I’d rather be loved than be right
My dad baptized me on March 4, 1987. A few minutes later, he scribbled out a baptism certificate and handed it to me in his church office.
This is the date of my baptism.
But the day I was “born again” was a date that I can’t figure.
I know it was sometime in January or February of 1998. It was early on a weekday morning and I was vacuuming one of the wide hallways in the Jim Bill McInteer Bible Building at Harding University in Searcy, Arkansas.
I was in my fourth year of college. I earned spending money by vacuuming the Bible building every morning before the sun came up.
That morning, I was in deep distress.
A few days earlier, my mom and I had an argument about something in the Bible. I don’t remember exactly what, but it was one of those things that the Bible does not spell out in black and white. It was one of those things that people who read the Bible can read a lot of...