It may not be hitting the fan, but stuff is sure hitting the Internet these days.

In case you don't follow YouTube, I'm substituting a polite word for an expletive. In other words, I'm not talking about just any "stuff." Although the other word has a rich place in scripture (take a look at translations of Philippians 3:8), it's impolite.

But naughtiness is creating a stir these days. These viral videos are everywhere. Search "stuff (fill in the blank) people say" on Google, and you'll find millions of videos parodying things bicyclists, women, men, teenagers, rabbis, and people of all races and religions say. Many of these are funny and not explicit at all.

One of my favorites is called "Stuff Presbyterian Seminary Students Say." It's clean, in case you were wondering. Presbyterians may curse on occasion, but we prefer to not air our potty mouths in public. It pokes fun of seminary-speak by prying the lid off insider gibberish.

All of this got me thinking about stuff people say to pastors. Pastors have the unique privilege of listening to people. Unlike doctors, we don't have insurance companies mandating how many people we can talk with in a day. Pastors are also portable. We make house calls, and can set up shop at Starbucks. We come to listen, to pray and to be with those who have stuff on their minds.

I count this as a privilege. We start talking about baseball or movies, but sooner or later the conversation turns toward the spiritual. They bring the stuff of their lives to see if "there is a Word from the Lord," sharing concerns such as:

• I don't know how to pray. In my experience, this is hinted at more than it is clearly stated. A family is going through a difficult time, or a protracted illness. The person feels detached from their spiritual moorings, isolated, exhausted, lonely. Their experience of God has gone stale, and yet, they still long for God's presence. Like the voices of the lament Psalms, they articulate a sense of spiritual pain, while still believing. Often, it is enough for them to know that others are praying for them. They come in search of encouragement, some sign that they are not alone.

• I'm angry at God. It is surprising to me how many folks need permission to be angry at God. Scripture is filled with examples of people who felt as though God gave them the raw deal. Again, I often remind folks that lament is a type of prayer. Anger is healthy, but too often we let emotions boil over into destructive rage. Letting God know we are angry sometimes clears the air and leads to a deeper experience of faith.

• I'm dying. Nothing in life prepares us for our own death. My wife, who is a hospice chaplain, remarks that we go to classes to prepare for childbirth, but often do not spend a moment preparing for the other certainty in life. While these conversations are ringed with sadness, they are filled with hope and even laughter. It is humbling to be part of such a candid talk.

• I'm broke. Years ago, we had dinner with church members who owned a car dealership. The dealership was tanking, yet somehow the husband had not found the courage to share this bit of news with his wife. For whatever reason, he chose to disclose this fact over dinner with the pastor. It was heartbreaking, yet it prompted a conversation about rebuilding family life after financial collapse.

• I'm gay. In the 90s, this conversation was sometimes accompanied with "and I have HIV/AIDs." Back then, I remember the pain of a church member who disclosed that her son had AIDs. I asked if we could put him on the prayer concern list. She shook her head, and began to cry, "None of our friends would accept him." More and more young people are coming out an earlier age, and so I pray that I can embody the grace of Jesus Christ in these moments.

• I'm having an affair. Frankly, this is the most troubling. Someone comes in confidence, not wanting to engage their spouse in conversations. Pastors run the risk of being put in a triangled relationship. In most cases, I'm glad to listen but quickly point out marriage counselors are better equipped for these situations.

• I've been thinking about coming back to church. Life can be hard, and sometimes people take sabbaticals from participating in church. In my experience, some people who might be willing to start coming back are embarrassed, or worried that someone will call attention to them. They imagine well-intentioned greeters loudly exclaiming, "Well, look whose here!" Or maybe someone, even the pastor, did something to hurt you. If this keeps you from coming to church, arrange a private chat with your pastor. The sooner, the better.

He or she will be glad to listen to the stuff on your mind.