One of my earliest memories is looking down at
my black shoes tiptoeing on cobblestones on the way to church. I
accepted Jesus into my heart when I was 8. I taught at a Christian
college for 16 years. I taught Sunday school, counseled young people,
spoke at conferences and went abroad for missionary work. I believed
wholeheartedly what I taught. I knew the Bible and felt I could share
Scripture to encourage anyone on any issue.
All of that confidence was shredded when one of my best friends was murdered in her home.
I did what I had always done. I went to help and encourage. I listened to her daughter tell what had happened and helped her children pick out a dress for the funeral that “looked” like Janet. I sang It is Well With My Soul at her funeral, cried through the service and got lost on the way to the cemetery.
It was another five years before I found my direction.
During those five years someone suggested we only doubt when something bad happens. That wasn’t true for me.
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