At the AM/PM gas station last night: I gave a Gospel tract to some guy filling his car. He looked me straight in the eye and told me that he got one of these before—then threw it right in the trash as he looked at me. Today at lunch: A woman heard our conversation and
“I love the idea of God, but it’s not stylisticaly in keeping with the way I function. I would describe myself as an enthusiastic agnostic who would be happy to be shown that there is a God.” “I can see that people who believe in God are happier. My brother is. My dad is too.
I need volunteers to help hand out free water to the minions at the “Fiesta Hermosa” this weekend. We have made special labels that ask the million-dollar question, give the full Gospel, church times and contact info. We purchased 3,000 bottles! One problem: There are not enough volunteers to help on Sunday and Monday and
My friend, Jerry Zell sent me this picture of his 86-year-old mother Doris, handing a million-dollar bill Gospel tract to her nurse. When you get to be of a certain age—you just don’t give a darn! Good job, Mom!
“Why don’t you just get outta here?” said a snotty teen at Starbucks last week when I asked her the million-dollar question. How rude! Poor girl. What kind of parents didn’t raise her. At another Starbucks next to Redondo Beach high school, two teen girls were hugging and kissing on each other’s lips in a