When I preached, I tended to spit. I almost always got the first two rows easily. It was embarrassing. But even more embarrassing would be not to preach. I didn’t have any other skills, though my congregation was quick to point out that, with my oratory skills, I could go into radio broadcasting. But all I could imagine was a microphone slimed with saliva.

No, I told them. I’d better stick with preaching.

Oh, they groaned.

But to their credit, I did take their advice and visit a dentist to ask her if there was something that could be done about my spitting.
She told me to pray. And then she laughed at her own joke. She spit on me a little bit, while she was doing it.