Thanks to you, we were able to buy a keyboard for the church (which you will hear in many of the videos), and -- after a rather miraculous experience at the dealership -- a Toyota truck for William, his family, and the community. I want to be careful not to be overly dramatic but within 48 hours of purchase, the truck was used to help save a mother and her baby's life. You can find that story and more in the links above.
To everyone who invested time, prayers and finances, our sincere thanks. You played a significant role which was made all the more apparent when the doctor walked out of surgery and told William, "You just saved that baby's life and probably saved the mother's life as well." It made for a beautiful, tender and laughter-filled day.
Houston we have made the conversion! Can I get a witness!!
If you own a Kindle,River Road is now available on Amazon Kindle. River Road is a compilation of stories from my childhood. As true as I can remember them. They comprise much of the story of how I became me. And give you insight into the voice behind me the writer, me the troublemaker and me the curious child of God. Some fun, a few embarrassing, often painful, all close to my heart.
I was compelled yesterday to stop my truck and film a response to all of you who responded so overwhelmingly to yesterday's email. I don't even know what to say -- which is obvious from this video. Please accept my sincere thanks. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, please go here.)
The other day Christy and I were sitting in the kitchen, talking about some stuff we've been actively praying over for a long time. Fifteen years. Maybe longer. On the surface, we’ve seen little change. If any. She’s tired. Worn down. Her Hope, capital ‘H’ and her Faith, capital ‘F,’ have been dinged. The look on her face spoke both frustration and hurt. “Why doesn’t God do something?” I get it. Part of me was tired, too.
But, when she said it, something in me got pretty irritated pretty quick. Not at her. I love her. She’s my precious, magnificent wife. Christy is not the problem. The problem is an unwanted guest that, over time, has crept into my house, into our language, our thinking. He is silent, insidious, crafty and evil. Pretty good at tip-toeing. He’s been whispering lies a long, long time. And he has a name. And when Christy spoke those ‘why-doesn’t-God-do-something-words,’ I heard his name.
He is face down. Nose to the stone. He's torn his clothes. Hasn't eaten in a week. By now, the whole town knows. David, the Great and Conquering King of Israel is a lying, scheming, conniving, backstabbing, murdering, adulterer. Some of his own men are calling for his head on a platter.
Next door, his wife presses the newborn to her bosom but he will not eat. Failure to thrive.
If you missed my book tour but wanted to hear me talk about "Water From My Heart," Gwinnett TV taped one of my events at Books For Less in Buford, Ga. Great bookstore. Lots of questions. Really fun audience.
I imagine he stunk. Clothes tattered. Hair matted. Beard stained. One shoe missing a sole. The other worn through. Personal hygiene out the window. Chin once high now drags his chest. His eyes scan the ground -- afraid to make eye contact lest he bump into a creditor. One front tooth is missing. Another is cracked. The chestful of gold chains are gone. Some sold. Most gambled. Or stolen. The ring his father once gave him was pawned weeks ago. He is now skinny, ribs showing. Hungry. And he's not just mildly entertaining the idea of what might be in the fridge. He is nauseas and can think of little else. The once lofty air has left the building.