"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
In churches across America, a quiet but consequential conversation is unfolding. It often begins with a question—sometimes whispered, sometimes posted publicly on social media....
“Jesus take the wheel,
Take it from my hands,
Cause I can’t do this on my own,
I’m letting go,
So give me one more chance,
Save me from this road I’m on,
Jesus take the wheel”
"I took a closer look around me and noticed we stood among the dead. Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands, of the dead... the stench hit me. Vultures descended. And as the wind kicked up, my eyes watered from the smell."
