apostle Paul

Thursday evening the phone rang. “Is R. there?” “No,” I chuckled, “he’s in prison.” “What?” a startled voice replied. I always have fun with these calls—‘cause it’s true. On various Thursday nights my husband R. goes to a nearby correctional facility to teach a non-denominational Bible study. Later that evening R. excitedly told me of the wonderful fellowship the guys had that night, and how D.—an inmate with great musical talent—played guitar and led some vibrant singing. As the men’s voices rose in glorious praise to God, R. glanced out the open window to the courtyard below and caught two…