
Like a therapist, I invite God to sit on the couch in front of me. I flip open my notepad, pen in hand. Now tell me, in your own words, what happened that night. It was a friendship, wasn't it? I hate to open old wounds, but invite me in to all those years ago, before the...

Like a therapist, I invite God to sit on the couch in front of me. I flip open my notepad, pen in hand. Now tell me, in your own words, what happened that night. It was a friendship, wasn't it? I hate to open old wounds, but invite me in to all those years ago, before the...

Like a therapist, I invite God to sit on the couch in front of me. I flip open my notepad, pen in hand. Now tell me, in your own words, what happened that night. It was a friendship, wasn't it? I hate to open old wounds, but invite me in to all those years ago, before the...


Like a therapist, I invite God to sit on the couch in front of me. I flip open my notepad, pen in hand. Now tell me, in your own words, what happened that night. It was a friendship, wasn't it? I hate to open old wounds, but invite me in to all those years ago, before the world...