My. Own. Words. THAT’S the problem.
Lately, words fail me.
Recently, my Youth Director — from when I was a kid growing up in the Baptist Church — emailed me, out of the blue, after he’d bumped into an old friend and got my contact info. I wrote him back; here’s a portion of my reply:
My, my … as I live and breathe.
It is so good to hear from you. You made such a difference in my life — one that cannot be, specifically, pin-pointed. You were there for me. I have spoken of you often, all these many years. (I realize this sounds overly-dramatic … but, hey, it’s the truth.) Were you not there then, I’m positive I would not be here (struggling in Christ) now …
There are people, one-hand countable types, in my life … your position there is solid.
Thanks so much for the note!
I covet your prayers.
in Christ …
Anyway, though a sinner, I’m not such a megalomaniac as to believe my words will be there for someone else. But, judging by some notes that have come my way in the past couple years, my words in some books have served as a help to others.
Maybe We Came, We Saw, We Converted – The Lighter Side of Orthodoxy in America will prove, for some, to be such a book.
My mother — MY MOTHER of all people — is on Facebook and she’s been hawking copies of We Came, We Saw, We Converted to her Protestant friends.
You may want to re-read the above sentence.
I said, “Mom! What are all those Baptists gonna think of all that Orthodox stuff?”
She said, “Awe, as long as it draws them closer to the Lord — it’s a good thing.”
Thus it was that, just recently, before Conciliar Press moved their warehouse, I tried to order about 100 of the books for a book signing … AND THEY DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH COPIES ON HAND.
Baptists. Baptists! in North Carolina. Buyin’ an Orthodox book.
BTW, warehouse now moved, fresh copies now available.