Pardon Me ... I’ve Gotta Tell This Story
If things had played out the way they seemed headed, the fourth Sunday in July would’ve been the last day on Earth for three people I know personally—me, my wife Cynthia, and my stepson Larry. We should be dead. But I’m alive. I’m here. And I’m writing this one day later with a single, undeniable truth burned into my spirit: Almighty God— not circumstances, not coincidence—makes the final call on life and death. Let me explain. We were on our way to Sunday worship service—a quick 20-minute drive from home. The trip started out smooth, even quiet. About seven minutes in, a sense of peace came over me. And without warning or prompting, a few passages from Scripture began repeating in my mind: “The Lord is thy keeper… thy shade upon thy right hand .....” ...