Retracing some steps this week unlocked a remarkable memory.
Elaine and I were visiting our friends James and Libby, who pastor a church in northern Indiana I have preached in from time to time.
James’ dad was a fine Christian gentleman who used to take me out for breakfast when I visited. His first name was Moses, but his brothers had teased him over it so he went by his middle name, which I always thought was Jay. In reality it was simply J. He had been born Amish and that’s how his birth certificate (if he had one) came out.