looking to be grounded, fighting fragmentation

People've been asking me how I'm adjusting, back to a life of affluence, excess, 'modernized' living.
Mostly I don't adjust. I think, rather, the point is maladjustment. I wonder what kind of sickness would cause us to want to adjust to a life that suffocates so many beautiful bodies beneath us?

Friends and family are perfect, and the environment--at the beach, and now home in the northwoods--is an oasis. The American church, the church in general, looks more screwed up than ever, and Americans more ignorant. It's my own small struggle to dig and find the amazing people and lessons within each.
Nate and friends and I run, skip, wrestle in the water and sand which scrape and clean us with playful bliss and contentment.

Saturday afternoon the pastor tells me there's been a mix-up and I'm not preaching tomorrow afterall. 5 minutes of sharing time, at the beginning of the service, instead. I kind of want to laugh for a long time and then throw him in the lake, but sometimes maladjustment has to take a form of quiet resistance, or it will become condescending. I have no particular right or desire to be pretentious.
I chuckle and think that this situation is much expected--just when I have the most to say, when I'm happy to say it even when most of my audience won't be able to hear it, I'm given 5 minutes. In Kenya introductions take 5 minutes. I swim, looking for a way to present context and theological grounding and meaning at once, and I really would rather not say anything at all. But this is America, and I best learn to say it in 5 minutes or nothing will ever change.

Who would ever want to adjust to this?
I feel prostituted.