Going to Golgotha

The twisted thorns were on his head; Pints of red blood were oozing out. You could hear him groan as the whips’ thongs coiled and lacerated his frail, suffering body Broken, He’d falter and fall and kneel and rise again as He dragged the wooden cross; laden with the people’s sins But they jeered on, …

Finding Purpose in Little Things: How a Congregation’s Need Was Met

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon.I sat musing over the complimentary remarks I received some moments earlier. It happened that I had a necessary stopover at a friend’s place the night before. Knowing that I wanted to attend church in the morning (before advancing on my journey), I asked what church my friend attended. He …