You'll have to forgive me. I was desperate. There I was six minutes into scrolling through the thread on my phone, just hoping no one peeked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse. But I couldn't stop. Not now. Not before I found out whether he was going to make it out of this one. Keep in mind things were not looking good. Everything was stacked against him. Foes on every side. Physical pain. And somewhere out there a grave that was going to get filled with something or somebody. So, I just kept on scrolling. Like everything else, I blame it on the pandemic right now. I can't remember the last time I succumbed to this weakness. Late high school? Maybe. I know it was really bad in junior high, enticed as I was by all the grit and glamour, all the spandex and sweat and grunting and flying bodies. Blame it on Hulkamania for sure. Blame it on the marketing geniuses who figured out a way to turn Rowdy Rowdy Piper and Mean Jean and Tattoo Lou into a
Correspondences from Pastor Wes on the Journey of Faith