Two Painful Truths About the American Church

The more this coffee disappears the faster I type.

There was a terrible thunderstorm outside. High gusts of wind snapping limbs outside of our secluded country house.

At an innocent six years old, I looked to my mother and said, “I think I want to be saved!” My mother, who was a preacher’s wife, understood exactly what was going on and led me through the sinner’s prayer.