It was a powerful moment filled with emotion, memory and hope. I had not heard my dad’s voice in more than 20 years since his death in 1975. Even in the last years of his life, his voice was faint, his words often unintelligible because of Parkinson’s disease.
Then someone sent me a tape of my dad leading Bible studies with a group of pastors in 1956. With a mixture of anticipation and foreboding, I sat down alone to listen. I heard my dad’s clear, strong reading of Scripture and the word’s obvious life-giving power for him, in him and through him. Tears began to flow down my cheeks. They were tears of sadness but also of gratitude for my dad’s love and clear witness to the faith.
Perhaps you remember a particular voice that moved you this way in a moment of singular clarity. Was it the first word of a toddler? Is it the tenderness in the voice that your truest friend uses to comfort you?
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