Steve wanted to go to church with me Saturday night. What are the chances the sermon would be about dealing with a cancer diagnosis (or something equally life altering)? We just looked at each other, both of us thinking the same thing. Should we stay or go? I figured I'd let him make the choice and follow, but he stayed in his seat.
I could see he was very uncomfortable. He had always enjoyed the music being loud. But the steroids made him anxious, loud music and so many people had him on edge. When the sermon started, I glanced over concerned. He whispered, "Maybe I'm supposed to be here." With that, I relaxed and let God worry about the rest.