The Grace To Tell The Story...
The sky filtering from brilliant blue to softest pink as we make the two hour drive home from Grandma’s house, just me and the kids. My thirteen year old is sitting up front and we are telling God stories, and he asks me to tell my best God story again, the one about how I got adopted into the family of the Great King. It is a great story. And I can’t resist telling it. I love to tell it. It was the best day of my whole life. The day Jesus rescued me, it was dramatic, and I tell again how my two friends Deb and Rach had been reaching out to me in all my darkness, loving me when I was so unlovable. How they loved me when no one else did and I knew there are was something different in their lives, some kind of love that I desperately needed. Love that I didn’t get from partying, relationships, or New Age spirituality. Love that only Jesus could give. I tell how that Friday morning, on the way to class at co...