Water from Home

Parched and hurting, I stood alone.

My son, Bennett, and I returned home about 8:30. With my wife and daughter out of town, Bennett and I decided to give away quarters at the mall. He calls it "going to the arcade."

We needed the time together, father and son, and I needed a break from thinking about church. After seven fairly smooth years, I had made an unpopular decision involving a popular staff member, and a group of church members, small but vocal, was calling for my head.

The evening was a good distraction and I had relaxed a bit, until we turned down our street. Under the streetlight in front of our house sat three men. I didn't like the looks of this. Even at a distance, I knew they were from the church.

"Go on upstairs, get your shower, and go to bed," I told Bennett. "I'll check on you later." And I walked toward the three men on the curb.

Dear Jezebel My wife, Liz, and I liked to say that we'd never had a bad day in the ministry. Oh, sure, sometimes things didn't go as we planned—the budget fluctuated or a service ...

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