God's Fingerprints . . .

Life sometimes just doesn't seem to make much sense. As I drove over to the office this morning listening to "In The Wee Small Hours" by Frank Sinatra I began to reminisce about my teenage years (along with my early 20's) and ponder where and when God was most at work in my life.

Consider the following . . .

1. An angry (and we never really knew why) young man reaches a point of no return with his dad and moves in with his mom (whom he had never lived with) for his Junior and Senior years of high school and changes his name as a symbol of this new lease on life.
2. This angry young man hears the preaching of Johnny Hunt at First Baptist Woodstock and hears afresh the gospel call and begins to reorient his life to God
3. This angry young man excels in the arts, meets a friend, John, who would be his partner in music) and at least attempts athletics and then receives a scholarship to Young Harris College to study music.
4. This angry young man meets Rev. Frederic J. Whitley at Young Harris, serves as his assistant and one night during a thunderstorm receives an unmistakable call to ministry.

And at this point this angry young man begins to pick up God's trail . . . or were his eyes opened to the fact that God was there all along? More to come tomorrow . . . . Js