"He stepped aside and tried to make a few calls. Hugging his daughter and grabbing his head, you could tell he was heartbroken. This woman next to him at the front counter heard the whole thing."
"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....
"He had no problem with the idea of being persecuted for the Gospel. He knew what he believed and he was assured that if anything ever happened to him he was going to be alright."
One morning in college, I woke up, got ready and drove to a church to buy myself a purity ring. My heart ached a little bit at the thought of it because I had already had sex before marriage, and because even at that time, the last word that I would have used to define myself was “pure.”
"My parents were in there with us. My mom held me as I screamed my head off, crying my eyes out, and hyperventilating. Kenny was behind me and my dad was behind him holding him. We were all a complete wreck. I will never forget what I saw in that room that day."
"I got in the front and he put our baby in her seat. I have no memory of the rest of the night. Jake died that night. I lost my husband, and I became a widow at 18."
"We were thinking, 'We're good, normal people! Why are we the ones who have a sick baby? Why are we the ones whose baby died? Is this really happening?'"
