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This is a true story. Only the names and locations have been changed.

The high-pitched roof of the sanctuary blocked the morning sun from the office windows, but by two in the afternoon, the light was streaming in and the office was growing warm. Russ pulled on the cord to adjust the blinds. He turned the slats upward to cut the glare on his computer screen.

His morning had been productive. Russ usually outlined his sermon on Tuesday. He researched the text and read commentaries on Wednesday. On Thursday he located the right illustrations and wrote the manuscript—if everything worked on schedule.

This week it had.

The fire of this message burned in his bones. He would review his notes several times over the next two days, then step up to the pulpit Sunday and deliver the word of the Lord with skill and passion. This would be a good one. He could feel it.

Russ hadn't thought of lunch; he wrote while the words flowed. Eileen's clatterings in the outer office hadn't bothered him this day. ...

March
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