The first time God spoke to me personally, I didn't know it was Him. I thought it was my mother. When I was five years old, she would tell everybody, "This is my little preacher!" It embarrassed me at the time. But looking back, it was God speaking to me through her. Fifty years in ministry, and I am still preaching. It's humbling. The Lord will often speak to us through the least likely people; it's part of our training before we can hear His voice for ourselves. As a new

Years ago, I dreamt I was the pastor of a small orphanage in Asia. The orphanage owned an old pickup truck that was in need of repair; I was lying on my side examining the undercarriage when, suddenly, soldiers pulled into our little compound and jumped out of their vehicles. They were looking for me, "the American missionary." If they found me, it meant I would be tortured and imprisoned. Since they hadn’t harmed any of the children or other workers, I felt my best recourse

I was reminded of the little joys of summer canning during my hibernation, whilst reading Wintering by Katherine May. “There’s an unspoken rule to our preserving; you shouldn’t have paid for the main ingredient. It should be part of a glut, otherwise unwanted or impossible to use, or should be foraged from the wild, where it would only decay without your intervention. You don't have to look back many generations to see how this was an essential supplement to scarce fresh prod