“Nothin’ like the good ol’ city o’ Bluffton to make you feel like you’re part of a family. I remember when I grew up here as a little boy, I used to sit and watch the missionaries come and talk and say to myself, ‘Why can’t I do that?’” I’m blowing it. I’m gonna puke. Oh, I’m gonna puke.
“I love how the, uh, the power of Christ can do that to a….a, uh, a childhood dream. He can make your dreams come true.” No powerpoint, no attention getter, no dramatics, and no elderly. No elderly is what’s killing us. It’s still my awful turn.
“Whenever we, uh, tell anybody that we are, uh, missionaries to the United Kingdom, they usually give us a funny look. They think that missionaries are supposed to be goin’ to third world countries, and….. uh…. such. But the truth of the matter is that the word of Christ is needed everywhere. Even in our own town of Bluffton.” I shouldn’t have said that. They all know it’s not true. Every damn citizen here is a believer. They don’t need missionaries. I look to Sharon to speak.