Last Sunday in church, I got up and shared my meager testimony with the rest of my Mormon ward. Nothing bad happened. It could have. After all, we’re talking about me.
I blathered something about the need to be aware of the suffering of those who tend to become invisible in the Mormon rush to conform.
As I approached the lectern, I heard the bishop say to his counselors, “We may have to shut off the mic for this one.”
Even if he’d been serious, I wouldn’t have been offended. I was still aware that I had unwittingly said something inappropriate when I spoke several weeks before.