Last Sunday I went to a potluck at my pastor’s place, where one cute old man sank back into his armchair and monologued his joy. He’d been a Catholic for most of his life, so all aspects of Christianity like obtaining salvation by grace not by works were all still new and amazing to him despite his age. It was quite something hearing a completely open and innocent profession of faith from someone you’d expect to be jaded about these concepts. And you wonder why I worry that any one of my Lynchburg girls could have recited this without a blink. Then he decided to go home so he stood up to leave, unfolding his long but fragile frame very carefully because he’d misplaced his cane, which he said he does a lot.
After the hurricane, this church was reduced to a congregation of fifteen people because of the number of members who had to relocate. Did that stop them from growing for a second? Who am I doubt him for a minute of my time?
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