• church planting,  faith,  family,  father

    Planting a Church like My Father

    Thirty three years ago, my father landed on John F. Kennedy airport with a phone number, a crisp Andrew Jackson bill, and an America-sized dream. He was a parachuting church planter, a green beret. A year later, my mother came, with three boys in tote (7, 5, and 3 yrs old). We lived in a roach-infested apartment for 5 years, mother punched the cash-register for longer. We rode old automobiles that got sick frequently, vomiting oil and other dark liquids. I wore hand-me down clothes that hung large on my bony shoulders making me look like a scare-crow. And I loved it! I did not know any better (or perhaps…