Nothing is nearly as powerful or more potentially beautiful than "quality of soul."
It was a Saturday morning almost twenty-five years ago, and I had officiated in the burial of two homeless men during the past week. In both cases, I felt, their lives had been meaningless and wasted. I was overwhelmed with the sadness and emptiness of the experience.
Combined with several nights of inadequate sleep, no recent spiritual refreshment, and lots of nonstop ministry activity, their deaths left me in a state of emotional overload.
When I came to the breakfast table that morning, I had no clue I was on the brink of a crisis. Life had not yet prepared me for the fact that everyone has a breaking point. There at the table my point came, triggered by one innocent comment.
"You haven't spent much time with the children lately," said my wife, Gail.
She was correct. I hadn't. She had kindly avoided noting that I hadn't spent adequate time with her, either. And I hadn't done any better with ...1