I converted to Christ from hippiedom in 1977, under a mesquite tree in an Arizona desert. At 27, I thought I was dying and wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to hell. That covered, I got baptized in the Holy Spirit, after dozing off in a women’s Bible study about Israel, where three men laid hands on me, and I shouted out in tongues and experienced the glory of God.
If that sounds crazy, it gets worse. Six years later, married, with two children, I was ordained and sent to plant a church in Toronto, Canada.
After two years and a handful of converts, and after burying my wife, Lynn, who died from cancer, I returned with two small children to my home church in Tucson. Three years later, I married Laurie, and with a family now of six, we packed up for Edmonton, Canada to plant another church, leaving it self-sustaining before leaving again to become missionaries to South Africa. Eight years later, while planting and pastoring two churches in South Africa, battling against a coup attempt to hijack our church fellowship into the “hyper-charismania” movement, and my family being held at gunpoint for four hours in a home invasion, we returned to Arizona, where I became an evangelist.
After 30 years of ministry and relationships, we were forced out of our church organization with twelve unsustainable charges. I became re-ordained with another Pentecostal organization, where their Pentecostalism was practiced exclusively on their website. After pastoring two small churches, that died long before I got there, where one of the deacons had been kicked out of his church in another city for marrying the young daughter of his best friend, and the church board voted to ditch their denominational organization, steal the church funds and building, and join the hyper-charismatics, I was denounced for the sins of changing the worship style and having communion after the preaching rather than before. Headquarters determined it would be best if my preaching credentials were rescinded and I was blacklisted as a “firebrand” (their words not mine). So, if I’m a little burnt out on churches, but not on Jesus, you know why.
And now I write novels; the first one features our missionary experiences with the Xhosa tribe in Zwide Township, Port Elizabdeth, South Africa (“When Elephants Fight”). My two other novels, “A Wife Worth Living” and its sequel, “The Blood of Champions” are time traveling romantic comedies about the power of the Blood. A third in the “Immortal Blood” series is in the works.