Who are you going to believe?

When you are laying on a cold prison floor after destroying everything one more time? What hope do you have? Nothing is more pitiful than limping through life on a religious crutch. I didn't need a crutch. Scouring the walls of the prison cell for something etched there that would provide solace, proved only that those who had gone before suffered from some degree of insanity. I now needed a stretcher. Dead in trespasses and sin I lay there on the floor needing to be picked up and carried through life from here on out. Who would ever believe it? God spoke into that broken prisoner's heart that day so many years ago and said, "I can work within this heart and life."

At the end of myself God begins the miracle of transformation of another prisoner of sin. God began to woo me into a place where I believed He was calling me to be an evangelist. Looking at seventy-five years in prison in multiple states for multiple offenses, that thought seemed to be an impossibility. To further complicate matters God did not mention His intentions to the parole board. In fact, many friends thought I needed some form of reality therapy. However, when God begins to carry you, you will not get the option to help in the ways you might think would expedite the call. Faith is the norm in His Kingdom.