Remembering the Days of His Youth

I recently had the privilege of sitting down across the table with my dad to begin what I will hope to be the start of a biography of his life. There are some stories that must be told.  There will likely be reflections along the writing process that will be more touching to the writer than any of the readers, but this is the privilege of the writer.

This is the story of a man captured by grace who had nothing of himself that a Holy God needed and called by his Redeemer to preach His gospel.

This is what the moment looked like as the sun was setting in the west of a man directed of God to go west.


Pierce Street Baptist Church, Amarillo, Texas, August of 1954… My dad shared the story, I’ve heard it many times before, but it’s best when it comes from him. His older sister picked him up from the YMCA and before going home she stopped at Pierce Street Baptist Church because she had been invited to attend revival meetings. My dad didn’t want to go in so he stayed in the car. While waiting for her; “I eventually went in and sat as far back as I could. Everything that he preached was like he knew me, of course he didn’t, it was the Holy Spirit convicting me…”

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