My eyes fluttered open, and I was jolted awake. My heart
seemed as if it were pounding out of my chest. Where was I? Nothing looked familiar. Was I in a motel
room?
Then suddenly it dawned on me that I had bought new bedroom furniture, the first in 18 years of marriage. I was in my own room.
Glancing at the clock, I could see that it was 6:03 a.m. Slowly I made my way to the kitchen. The constant gnawing pain in my side was growing with each step I took.






Because of the music ministry with which God has blessed
me, I have had the privilege of worshiping in countless churches. I have
praised the Lord with people of numerous races and denominations. As a
result of my experiences, I have come to the conclusion that, regardless
of doctrinal differences, racial preferences and varying worship
styles, the body of Christ has more in common than it has differences.
John stood at our door arrayed in all his black leather
splendor. Safety pins ringed his ear lobes; jewelry pierced his nose and
lips. Tattoos covered his arms. Both sides of his head were shaved, the
hair on top spiked down the middle.



