At Gunpoint

Called into a tense standoff, the only weapons I had were listening and love.
At Gunpoint

We are counting down the top 40 articles from Leadership Journal’s 36 years, including this one first published in 2006.

"Mark, someone's at the door."

I rolled over. 1:00 a.m. "Are you sure you weren't dreaming?" I asked my wife. In response, she shoved me out of bed and told me to get going. I sighed, slipped on some pants and shoes, and made my way to the back door.

"Who's there?" I called out. Looking through the thick, wavy glass, I couldn't recognize the figure on the other side of the door.

"Sam,* town constable."

I opened the door and stepped outside. The humid Louisiana night made me feel like I was drowning. In truth, I'd been drowning for quite awhile. Six months earlier, seminary degree in hand, I had accepted a call to pastor a rural church. It was three "firsts." My first pastorate, my first time living in a rural setting, and the church's first seminary graduate. Everyone was still wary of the situation. ...

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