I used to think I was crazy. Not walked into a room and forgot what you came for crazy. Not “Where are my keys? Oh, they’re in my hand,” crazy. I mean certifiably insane. Like belongs-in-an-institution insane.
Can I just talk to you for a while? Will you allow me to paint pictures in your mind before they fade out of mine? Can I share with you the thoughts swirling in my head that I don't quite know how to put into words?
I know personally men and women who have put themselves in harms way to preach the gospel. I've heard their stories of foreign jail cells and gunfire. Instead of quitting and going home they went back.
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