October, 1987. I'm standing on a sidewalk on the tough edge of
downtown Dallas--desperately looking for the address the woman had
given me on the phone. All the words you would use to describe a
place like this: seedy, gritty, crime-infested (and the more
politically correct "transitional") all seemed to line up and
describe this spot. Right before noon a crazy grab-bag of humanity
began to make their way down a dirt alley between two boarded up
storefronts. That alley looked incredibly dangerous but I took a
deep breath and followed them. What I found there was something I
had been looking for my whole life and hadn't even known how to ask
for. I was born on a Sunday and was in church the next Sunday. I
had been taught and trained at two Christian universities and a
seminary. I was 34 years old and the Sr. Pastor for one of the
largest churches of my denomination in the world. I witnessed
"church" that day for the first time in my life. These were the
people who would save my life, re-write my theology, and change me
forever. My life was about to turn upside down and go to places I
could never have imagined.
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