Sometimes, I wish I was much older. Old enough to realize that my best, most influential, and productive days are behind me so that I could speak completely and openly about my life, my triumphs, and most of all, my struggles.
It's coming. Can you feel it? It's creeping up on us like a quiet predator. It's hiding behind the Christmas trees and stockings hung with care. It's getting ready to strike.
I'm afraid of dying. I am a Christian and I am horribly afraid of falling bridges, crashing planes, turned over cars and anything else that you can think of that would include my body being mangled into a mess of bones and flesh.
If you’ve been in church long enough, you might have seen the worst of someone’s unrepentant sin get them kicked out, cast out, excommunicated or “handed over to Satan so their flesh might die and their soul might live.”