​Tears of Healing

Doubt is not just for those who are not baptized.


Mud, the new accessory.

Glop, glop. I step out of the car; now I’m stuck. The grimy mud attempts to invade my stubborn boots. Luckily, I’m prepared. My feet are dry, I escape, and best of all, they’re kissing Kenyan soil. Pinch me: this has to be a dream.

We made a three-hour journey from Nairobi, Kenya, to get here, a small village near the Aberdare Mountains.

People sit on benches by little buildings while the pastor speaks at the rickety pulpit he must’ve built for the occasion: a two-week evangelistic series.

My friend leads me to an empty bench, and I sit for a moment, …

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