A man I know saw a homeless guy mumbling to himself while shopping at a local Farmer’s Market. Noticing that a vendor was clearly disgusted with the very shabbily dressed “crazy,” (who was making himself at home right next to her display), the man thought about encouraging “the bum” to move to another area so
“You’d burn me at the stake!” the woman exclaimed, pulling open the collar of her shirt to reveal a Wicca medallion. She interrupted the conversation I was having with two Starbucks employees after overhearing my question to them: “If God judged you by the Ten Commandments would be found guilty or innocent?” The conversation almost
I was parking my car at 11:30 in the morning when an obviously sloshed middle-aged man walked past me. Well, he wasn’t really walking; he was kind of teetering forward like a sawed tree ready to fall over. I pulled out my trusty Million-dollar bill Gospel tract, jumped out of the car, and asked, “Did
The LA Times called asking me if I was satisfied with the service I was receiving and if I’d like to take advantage of the special deal they were offering. I politely said, “No,” and then asked the saleslady a question: “Do you ever think about what happens when you die?” “Oh, yes. I’m going
Art was a little reticent about handing out a million-dollar bill Gospel tract on his first foray to the Redondo Beach Pier with the evangelism team. A group of twenty invaded the area with the intention of sharing the Gospel verbally or with tracts, but Art hung off to the side, waiting, waiting… for the