We were out visiting for the church, Brother Tommy and I, two Baptists prepared to “win the lost for Christ,” on a steamy summer Sunday afternoon in Fort Worth. Brother Tommy was church deacon, and I was a high school student, filled to the brim with evangelical zeal and adolescent idealism, both of which can kill you.
Bill LeonardWe grabbed some “prospect cards” and set out, arriving at a little house on Fort Worth’s south side. Brother Tommy knocked, and a young man answered the door.
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