I quit.

I used to say that when I was younger … more than I like to remember. Wrong coach. Wrong teacher. Wrong boss.

Of course, I’ve quit some things that were well worth quitting.

I quit the violin in fourth grade, because I could barely manage to make it sound like anything less than two love-starvedCarpathian Marmots in the throes of passion.

I was a horrible boy scout, inasmuch as I thought sleeping outdoors in a cotton/poly-blend sack on the hard cold ground a fool thing to do. Moreover, I don’t even like properly heated Chef Boyardee, let alone the gelatinous squares glopped from between the jagged edges of a can opened with the little used implement on a $7 Swiss Army knife knock-off.

Continue reading at True Grit: Why Congregations Need to Know When to Quit — [D]mergent.