ROLL WITH IT

A family fav around our house—especially for a soup meal—are “cheesy biscuits.” I prepare biscuit dough, knead it well, and roll it out. Then, instead of cutting circles of dough for the baking pan, I go into “cinnamon roll” protocol. I roll the dough flatter, spread with margarine or butter, sprinkle on shredded cheese, roll up into a tube, then slice off inch-and-a-half sections for the baking sheet.

While doing this the other day, I thought along the lines of “if dough could talk.” Would the dough complain about being pushed and rolled flatter and flatter? Or would it better submit to the hard strokes of the rolling pin if it had a vision of the final project? In other words, “roll with it” in the process of becoming usable? Could there be a spiritual analogy.....

The English idiom "roll with it” means to adapt to a situation that comes with unexpected circumstances or challenges.” Our human tendency, however, is to want our own way, not to adapt, and say “no” to God's ways that might be harder, inconvenient, or just not “fun.”

Enter one of the Bible's poster children for “rolling with it,” the apostle Paul. When he left the reasonably cushy life of a respectable member of the Jewish hierarchy--laying it all aside to follow Jesus—his lifestyle changed drastically. No guaranteed income. No permanent home. His passion for Christ led to discomfort and danger. He was beaten and flogged, stoned, mobbed, reviled, jeered, endangered by robbers and enemies, nearly drowned at sea, fled for his life via a basket dropped over the city walls, had a besetting physical problem (some think poor eyesight), endured cold, hunger, inadequate clothes, and was constantly concerned for the fledgling churches.

Of all that, he essentially said, “Not to brag, but I had a rough time after deciding Jesus would be number one in my life.” But he also said that Jesus reminded him: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).  Paul responded that as hardship shaped him into the character of Christ, he came to be able to even delight in these difficult experiences. “For when I am weak, then I am strong” (v. 10).

Okay, the process of making “cheesy biscuits” seems a strange illustration for life's trials. But maybe such everyday symbols can also remind us of how the pound-push-pull-press of daily life experiences, including the heat of refinement, are inevitable parts of a growing walk with God.

(By the way, the biscuits are truly delectable with a dollop of jam on top.)

SAFE IN THE ARMS

If kittens could talk, this one might have quite a tale (notice I wrote tale, not tail). This winter some relatives noticed a stray cat shivering at their back patio sliders. Taking her to a vet, they learned she not only had a tapeworm but was pregnant. Before long she gave birth to a half dozen kittens, one deceased. Another, already dead, came later. (Poor Mama Cat!) We finally met the Meow Tribe a few months later when they'd been weaned and potty-box-trained (more or less) and would soon be adopted out.

I hadn't been around kittens for years. They are light as a feather and bounce around like autumn leaves on a blustery day. But they also will sit still for some lovin'--as in this photo I got of one that my husband held. I like this photo because is says “protected” and “safe” to me. It also reminds me of scriptures that express God's attributes to us in human terms.

Isaiah 41:10 portrays God's promise to help us in the image of his strong hand:

I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 63:3, expressing God's desire for His people to have a fresh, holy, and God-honoring reputation:

You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord's hand, a royal diadem in the hand of God.

In John 10:28-29, Jesus used the metaphor of God's hand to express eternal security for true believers:

I give them [His followers] eternal life and they shall never perish; no one can snatch them out of my hand; My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father's hand.

And of course, the Gospels give us the tender picture of Jesus welcoming children to His lap, laying His hands on them and blessing them (Mark 10:16).

Besides those scriptures, the tiny kitten in my husband's hands reminded me of a hymn of yesteryear with a poignant story behind it. The hymn is “Safe in the Arms of Jesus,”written in 1868 by Fanny Crosby, prolific hymn-lyric-writer who was blinded in infancy and lived to her 90s. One little-known fact of her life is that after she married another blind person (whom she met at her school for the blind), she became pregnant. But the child—reportedly a little girl—died shortly after birth. Fanny would carry that sorrow close to her heart for the rest of her life. But she also penned the words that would comfort untold numbers who needed to feel themselves wrapped in the arms of God:

Safe in the arms of Jesus, Safe on His gentle breast,

There by His love o'ershadowed, sweetly my soul shall rest.

Hark! 'tis the voice of angels, borne in a song to me,

Over the fields of glory, over the jasper sea.

The last verse ends:

Here let me wait with patience, wait till the night is o'er;

Wait till I see the morning break on the golden shore.

Sometime, somewhere, somehow, all our lives will be marked by times of difficult parting. Of letting go. Death, disappointments, lost opportunities, fading health—all enter this fragile place called “life.” But the end of the story will come, someday. We'll find ourselves gently spilled out of the rough earthly hands that cupped us, and led by a celestial hand as we walk wide-eyed into Heaven's royal banquet hall.

This YouTube chorus video with scenery and hymn text features Mrs Crosby's tender hymn:

Safe in the Arms of Jesus - Bing video

HOW LONG?

It wasn't COVID-19 that put the Bible's Job in the town dump, in utter physical and mental misery after losing his children, wealth and health. The Bible book bearing his name mentions painful sores from his feet to the top of his head. (Was it full-body shingles?) Devastated, miserable beyond words, he finally asks some friends a question of two penetrating words: How long.

Even common laborers, after working all day, get to sleep at night. But Job's pain keeps him awake. “The night drags on and I toss till dawn,” he says (Job 7:4), because of his unbearable suffering from this mystery disease. Then, in a more famous verse, he adds: “My days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle, and they come to an end without hope” (v. 6).

How long? I've heard those same words behind the conversations about the coronavirus. How long before a vaccine attacks the beastly virus? How long before normalcy returns to life, without required masks, social distancing, and constant hand-washing? How long before the shadow of death from this virulent illness passes?

Maybe it's worth considering that Bildad the Shuhite, one of Job's so-called “comforters,” turned “how long” into a rebuke:

How long will you say such things? Your words are a blustering wind. (8:2)

And Job rejects their so-called advice with other “how-longs” or similar defenses:

How long will you torment me and crush me with words? (19:1)

When we're up against something that is too big, too awful, and too hard, it's always good to submit to an attitude check. We don't always find the healing perspective in commiserating with other complainers and sufferers.

I grew up going to church and Sunday school, plus completed two years of “confirmation class.” And while I had some head knowledge about my faith, I realized how little I embraced when I got to college and had to take a required class in great literature.

Guess what: Job was in there along with other secular books like “The Prince” by Machiavelli. The college bookstore even sold Bibles for that class because that's where students could find “Job” in those pre-internet days! Well, I'd brought my old childhood Bible to campus, but never had tackled Job. I had a lot of learn. I still do.

I know now that after all the blaming and accusing dialogue between Job and his “friends,” the truth emerges when the voice of God enters the conversation. Just how that happened, I'll find out in Heaven. But Job caught a glimmer of hope almost exactly halfway through this inspired book of ancient poetry. When I read this passage, I also remember how it glistened as a vocal solo in Handel's oratorio The Messiah:

I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth; And though worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God. (Job 19:25-26)

The book of Job ends well: he's physically healed, his wealth restored, and more children born to him, including daughters who were the most beautiful of their times (42:15). I find that an interesting detail!

But I know I can't read Job as a prescription for my life. Suffering may come. I may even be a victim of this dreaded virus. I don't want to be, but I have to leave that to God. Because: I know my Redeemer lives—and someday I will see God.

In the meantime, I cherish scriptures like this one:

The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever—do not abandon the works of your hands.(Psalm 138:8 NIV)

Such a perspective changes the whiny “why me?” and “how long?” into a trust that God knows—and that should be enough.

Impossible to eat

I was a bit surprised in the last few weeks when an old folk song (think: early 1960s and Peter, Paul and Mary) started rattling around in my mind. The lyrics (original with Will Holt in the late 50s) compared the bitter fruit of the lemon tree with fickle young love. Now, I wasn’t thinking at all about teen crushes (and their crushing aftermaths). Instead, the Bible’s perspective on bitterness had occupied my study and thinking.

Someone’s remark about realizing they had a problem with bitterness prompted me to review what the Bible says about it. The book of James, full of blunt counsel about religious pretention, didn’t spare a thing.  After characterizing “wisdom” as evidenced by a “good life, by deeds done in the humility,” he denounces its opposite:

…if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth.  Such “wisdom” does not come down from heaven but is earthly, unspiritual, of the devil.” (James 3:15 NIV)

The writer of Hebrews offered a similar warning:

Pursue peace with all people, and holiness, without which no one will ever see the Lord: looking carefully lest anyone fall short of the grace of God; lest any root of bitterness springing up cause trouble, and by this many become defiled.” (Hebrews 12:14-16 NKJV)

Like the weeds in my flower beds, bitterness will take over and choke out what’s good if it’s not dealt with. In the relational realm, bitterness can divide families, strangle what could be healthy relationships, and poison both mind and body.  

Bitterness slips in when we respond to suffering in wrong ways.  Everybody suffers. But we make the choice to be bitter—or better.

Ruth of the Old Testament showed the “better” choice. Death took her husband, her brother-in-law and father-in-law. Rather than slink back in the shadows of her pagan homeland (Moab), she chose the compassionate and courageous route. Despite knowing it would be a difficult and dangerous journey, she decided to accompany her sad and bitter mother-in-law back to her homeland (Bethlehem), even though living there might be just as bleak.  Naomi, in fact, had started to call herself “Mara,” meaning “bitter.”

Of course, the rest of the story was that God rewarded faith. In turning away from her “bitter roots” of paganism and blaming, she received a fresh start and was grafted (via her marriage to a compassionate “kinsman-redeemer,” Boaz) into the lineage of the coming Messiah.

Bitter or better? Remember the lemon. Its main characteristic is sour. And bitterness turns us into sour people.

Holding tight

When you hurt too deep for words, it’s possible that the very God-Words you need cannot get past the wall of pain.  I’ve been there, but not in the devastating way that internationally-known author and speaker Carol Kent has been.  I met Carol in the summer of 2000 as the national winner of an essay contest on women mentoring women—the topic of her then-current book.  She and her husband were extraordinarily gracious in hosting me and my teen daughter for the TLC award weekend that included “the works” at a day spa (woo-hoo) and award recognition in front of a huge crowd of the Heritage Keepers women’s conference.  But something seemed amiss as I watched her greet old friends with tearful hugs. Later I learned that just months earlier, unspeakable pain sliced into their lives. Their only child, a respected military officer, was arrested for the murder of his young stepdaughters’ father, whom the son suspected of sexually abusing them. The full story is told in the book's introduction.

As I have prayed for the Kents through the years, I remembered Psalm 34:18--that God promises to be close to the broken-hearted. There was so little I could do, but I knew God saw all their needs. When I learned that Carol had a new book out—this time a devotional titled He Holds My Hand—I knew I needed to order it.  She autographed my copy with this telling inscription: “He holds your hand and He won’t let go. Psalm 63:8.”

Subtitled “Experiencing God’s Presence and Protection,” the 365-entry devotion reflects Carol’s quest to read the Bible as God’s very personal love letter to her.  I’ve recently used Sarah Young devotional books, also “God speaking to you” in style, and know how much more personal it made scripture. But Carol’s book has a passion I’ve found in no other, of God reaching into torn and tender hearts and saying, “I know. Someday it will make sense.”  As such I thought of the world’s most famous sufferer, Job, who in the midst of off-target accusations that his suffering “must” be the result of sin, shoved all those ideas in the corner with a golden declaration of faith:

But he knows the way that I take; when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold. (Job  23:10)

The personal notes in my Bible next to that verse include these:

1. I will walk by faith. (v.11)

2. I will obey God (v. 12)

3. I will “eat” His Word (v. 13)

All of those things Carol has done in this devotional . Each day includes a thought-provoking quotation from a Christian leader. Then she explores what God has “messaged” through a certain text.  I read randomly through the book when I first received it, and each touched me in a tender place.

 The shelves at bookstores are full of devotional books, some fluffy, some thin in true life experience. This is one you will not want to miss.  Buy two copies, one for yourself and one for someone going through times so unsteady that he or she needs a Hand to grasp.

 Hardback, published by Tyndale/Momentum, $15.99

Meet Sweet (Potato) Adelaide

Whoa! That was my reaction when our garden-growing friend stopped by and rolled this monster sweet potato out of a plastic bag.  That’s a one-foot ruler next to it. Something this amazing needed a name. I decided on Adelaide, as in “Sweet Adelaide.” (The name is German for “noble, kind.”) A week or so later, I decided to bake it.  I’m glad I started early, as it took three hours at 350 degrees before I could easily poke a knife into it, telling me it was “done.” I wondered if it thought it was a turkey!

If sweet potatoes could talk, it probably would have said, “Ouch, this is hot!  Get me out of here! My original hardened condition can’t stand the heat!” And isn’t that how we react to spiritual fires?

Early in my Christian walk I struggled with James 1:2-4.  Being a Christian should shield you from all of life’s bad things, right?  Wrong.

Count it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.  Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

If we lived in a fairy-tale world, where dashing princes come and rescue beautiful captive lasses to take them off to marriage and a grand castle, we wouldn’t need this verse. But we live in a fallen world that is waiting for its Prince of Peace, who is preparing us for the ultimate joy of life forever with Him.  In the meantime, the sin nature needs some “cooking,” as it were, to break down the mean and demanding fibers of the sin-character that won’t work in His kingdom

James wasn’t the only one to share this advice:
Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the spirit of glory and of God rests on you. (1 Peter 4:13-14 emphasis added)
The words I bold-faced were a “wow” for me because they helped me recognize that Satan’s tools include negative talk or bullying from someone.  Count that joy? Yes, with Jesus, all things are possible.

In the meantime, anybody for a serving of tender Adelaide? Fully cooked, it’s a great source of healthy vitamins.

When senselessness strikes

Thursday's mass shootings at a college in Oregon have again shocked us. I wrote this piece after the 2012 shootings at an elementary school in Connecticut. Because my husband is a retired (and still subbing) teacher, those shootings at public schools hit us hard.  I think the principles here are worth republishing as we pray and try to make sense of this sick act.

 Not again, I groaned as I caught “breaking news” of another mass killing spree. Again, I grieved for innocent victims struck down in their offices, schools, places of worship, athletic events and other public places.

I also thought of those I know who survive such terrifying incidents. Some friends’ trip to a Portland, Ore., shopping mall ended with them huddling in a dressing room while a shooter went on his rampage. I once met a teen girl who nearly lost her arm in the first school shooting in 1996 in Washington state. She was sitting in math class; three died that day.

As a Christian, I can’t ignore these events. They remind me of the desperate consequences of sin. They also press me closer to God as I seek His perspective and hope. Here are some things I’ve found helpful when senselessness strikes. 

1. Limit media saturation. Excessive watching or reading of emerging news reports heighten focus on the evil event and the secular world view. Don’t let the world squeeze you into its thinking mold (Romans 12:2). Learn enough to know how to pray, and then do pray for the victims and those affected, including the media and emergency workers. Lift up those called on to convey God-honoring comfort and counsel, such as pastors and Christian counselors.

2. Remember history. Godless insanity and violence are nothing new. Old Testament history churns with wars and violence. Early Christians were persecuted and martyred. The greatest picture of evil came on a hill in Jerusalem, where three men were impaled on crosses to die. One was sinless, the Lord Jesus.   

 3. Rest in knowing that God knows. The Bible says the last days will see an “increase of wickedness” (Matthew 24:12). In His omniscience, God knows beforehand about every crime or killing. He sorrows over each, even as He knew ahead of time the unfathomable cost of His Son’s death: “He has not despised or disdained the suffering of the afflicted one” (Psalm 22:24).

4. Trust His love and wisdom. Christ’s death and resurrection put a stake in the ground: Satan is not the final victor. So when another heartbreaking incident of public violence happens, don’t let intense media coverage fuel a hopeless perspective.  God’s answer for us is the same He gave the Old Testament’s Job, when this good man was stripped of all by violent schemes and natural disasters: “Trust Me. Acknowledge My sovereignty.”

Amid unspeakable loss and pain in our times, He is still there. His hands are those of rescue workers, medical people, counselors and friends. He also uses believers to pray rather than fret over news of violence. Psalm 22:27 shows the other side, when senselessness will finally make sense: “All the ends of the earth will remember and turn to the LORD, and all the families of the nations will bow down before him.”

Firestorm!

The temperature had reached 108 degrees F. that afternoon of June 28, so I watched smoke clouds on the horizon with concern.  We live in an arid area, prone to wildfires. I hoped firefighters could knock it down quickly. They couldn’t. Erratic winds pushed a firestorm several miles over parched lands, into the edge of my town.  By early evening,, the radio was broadcasting emergency evacuation alerts affecting thousands. Seeing the encroaching orange glow, I quickly filled two boxes with “must-keep” documents and address books.  I slipped in my Bible. Should I take my violin? It was my father’s. I decided not to.  I handed my husband an overnight bag for a few changes of clothes and filled another for myself.  Would we have to flee in minutes? The border for “Level 2 evacuation” (“be ready to leave on a moment’s notice”) was about one-fourth mile away.  Would it soon change to Level 3 (“get out immediately”) and include us?  I looked around our small, cozy home of 34 years.  We decided to wait and listen to radio-announced evacuations.

 

By morning, we were still in our home. But from the end of our  block we could see blackened hillsides less than half a mile away. We’d later learn that 28 homes were destroyed.  We knew some of their owners, two of them retired teachers who'd taught our now-adult children. A mile away the other direction, flying embers had ignited industrial buildings related to the valley’s fruit processing industry. Acrid smoke boiled for a day.

Living through a “natural disaster” (and emerging unscathed except for the physical letdown when it’s over) made me think again about the big questions of suffering.  This nugget from the Old Testament prophetic book called “Lamentations” (so appropriately named) came to mind: “It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.  They are new every morning: great is his faithfulness”  (Lamentations 3:22). The author of this book (possibly Jeremiah) had watched enemies press in on his native land.  Eventually they’d come to the bloody “last call” of foreign invasion. Did God know? Didn’t He care?  Of course He does. His compassions fail not.

 I pray for that assurance for the stunned fire victims.  I pray it for people I care about who are going through some of life’s spiritual “firestorms.” The day a doctor sits down after tests and says, “I wish I had better news.” Those caring for a loved one they’re losing to dementia or Alzheimer’s.  Dying parents.  Overwhelmed adult children. Wayward adult children.  The devastation of drug addiction or arrest for crime.

The morning after the firestorm, a rainstorm helped wash away the smoke-laden valley air.  As I watched the ten-minute downpour, I remembered, “New every morning.”  It doesn’t say, “Everything is made okay every morning.” It says God’s compassions are new every morning. They’re ours to claim as we walk through the ashes of life, holding His hand.

Sound (grrr)-bite

It happened here....
So much for healthy habits, like walking three-quarters of a mile to the nearest grocery store to buy fresh green beans. Half a block from the store, as I passed a group of apartments with dead grass and junk outside, I remember thinking, What a messy yard. Just then, a resident opened a door and his dog zoomed out, zipped through the hedge, and headed straight for my legs. In seconds the dog had bitten both my calves before his owner grabbed him. When I lifted my pant legs and saw the blood, I knew I had a problem. I remember saying, “I need to wash my wounds.” The residents offered me the garden hose. Eventually, because I pressed the point, they brought out dish soap, some tissue and a bandage. And then I walked home, with lots of time those eight or so blocks to think! I had done nothing to provoke the attack (my thoughts about the unkempt yard never left my brain). I was walking on the public sidewalk at a normal pace. Yet it happened.

Sometimes life is like that. We’re doing what we should, then kaboom, we’re attacked spiritually, emotionally or physically. Even back in the apostle Peter’s time, people were wrestling with this age-old question of why suffering was part of their lives. If they were following Christ, shouldn’t they get a break from life’s tough stuff? The answer is simple: No, because we live in a fallen world.

“Be self-controlled and alert,” Peter counseled the Christians. “Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8). I’d paraphrase that now: Your enemy the devil is like a vicious dog that specializes in surprise attacks on your calves!

The venerable Bible teacher William MacDonald noted that Satan has different poses. Sometimes he’s on the destructive offensive, like a roaring lion. Having a drinking driver smash into your car (what my family lived through in 1997) is lion-stuff. Other times he’s sneaky as a snake, luring people into negative lifestyle choices like financial irresponsibility or immorality. He also disguises himself as an “angel of light,” who tries to deceive people spiritually. He enjoys hearing people whine, “I deserve better. God isn’t fair to me.” Excuse me? Who isn’t fair? Peter’s advice: “Resist him, standing firm in the faith.” The reason? You’re not the only one under spiritual attack around the world. In some parts of the globe today, it’s bad, really bad for believers.

As for my encounter with an out-of-control dog, I dutifully reported the incident to the Humane Society and had my bites checked at a walk-in clinic. They seem to be healing and so far I’m not foaming at the mouth from rabies. But trust me, I’ve altered my walking route to the grocery store. Hopefully, the opposite side of the street will be safer!

Signature additions

When we’re pushed aside by an illness, accident or circumstance, we’re apt to whine, Why me, why now, why this? We identify with the losses of the Old Testament’s Job. Like Job, we have no easy answer to the why’s of suffering, except that God is sovereign in what happens “down here.”

Yes, it can get rough. I have a friend who was diagnosed a year ago with a cancer that she has fought with determination and grit. In a recent note I wrote her, this phrase came to mind: “Infirmities are a platform through which God displays Himself.” I had just read in John 9 about Jesus healing the blind man. Jesus dismissed the speculation that he was blind because of his or his parents’ sin. Instead, Jesus said, this happened “so that the work of God might be displayed in his life” (John 9:3).

Few of us want to be a display board for God. Quadriplegic author/artist Joni Eareckson Tada isn’t all that fond of her wheelchair. My creative, compassionate friend Shirley, whose life was ended by cancer, similarly spent most of her life on “wheels” after breaking her neck. But I looked to her (as I do the writings of Joni) for encouragement to trust God in the rough places.

I’ve been reading biographies of Scotsman Eric Liddell in preparation for a writing assignment. Liddell took a gold medal in the 1924 Olympics for the 400-meter race after refusing to run his best event, the 100-meter, because it took place on a Sunday. His talent and convictions were brought to movie fame in Chariots of Fire.

Instead of becoming a professional sports person, Liddell set a course to become a missionary to China. Sally Magnusson’s biography, The Flying Scotsman, recounts how the newly-ordained Liddell was asked by a friend to sign a guest book. With a laugh, Liddell signed his new “Reverend” title and then added some Chinese characters. Asked what those meant, he explained, “Keep smiling.” He often used that phrase.

The friend told Liddell of a woman who often used the same phrase. Her name was Bella, and five years earlier she was scalped in an accident, losing one eye and badly damaging the other. She endured painful skin grafts, unbearable headaches, and was nearly deaf and blind. Every month the painful, ingrown eyelashes of her remaining eye had to be pulled out. Yet, according to the friend, the woman remained cheerful, telling people to “keep smiling.”

When he told Liddell that the woman greatly admired him, Liddell asked if he could visit her. The friend arranged it, and Liddell and Bella had an hour together. As she held his hand, she remarked that she worked for God, too. Her sufferings weren’t as bad as some face, she said, but when people complained over little things, she was able to remind them of how blessed they really were.
The next morning, as Liddell hurried to board a train, someone handed him a letter from Bella. He pushed it in his pocket to read later. The letter simply expressed how happy his visit made her.

The man sharing his train compartment was obviously miserable, holding his head in his hands and refusing to look up. Liddell tried to cheer him, and eventually the man started telling his story. He complained he felt like a failure. He did poorly at school, couldn’t keep a job, had conflicts with his parents, and had no friends. Feeling life wasn’t worth living, he was going to kill himself.
Wondering how to respond, Liddell remembered Bella’s letter in his pocket and asked the young man to read it. Liddell explained the woman’s severe handicaps and added that she took care of four people.

Ashamed of his attitude, the young man brightened, realizing he was wrong to lose faith in God and himself. He left the train a different man.

The story prompted me to ask what slogan I’m unconsciously signing after my name. How about you? :)