In this modern age of perpetual consumption—news, entertainment, food, and endless digital stimulation—the idea of voluntarily going without feels almost...radical. Yet for the earliest...
"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....
“I work at a place where if I’m led to pray for someone, I’m able to do that and I’ll do it right on the spot. People need prayer, encouragement, and love. That’s what we try to do here.”
"Her eyes weren’t even open. So I tore the bag, that she was in. It was like a garbage bag, her head was in the bottom of the bag. And her legs were hanging out the front of the bag. And she wasn’t breathing."
I’m no trauma expert. In fact, I’m not even close to scratching the surface of all there is to know. But I do know it’s messy, it’s hard, and it’s very unpredictable.
"I could hardly make out anyone or anything through the tears. People were eating fast food around me, laughing, texting. I on the other hand was a wreck. I kept my face down, my face was drenched in tears. I kept telling and giving myself every reason to go through with this even though I did not believe in it."
"I know I'm doing it for Jesus. I know that he's real," said Landon. "I know that angels are there. I know that there's a heaven. I'm not doing it for someone I don't know or that I've never seen. I've seen Jesus. I know he's there. He's asked me to do this and this is what I'm doing."
