A Psalm for Backsliders, Bones, and the Breath of God
It was the Lord’s Day.
The pews were half full. The hearts maybe less.
A breeze stirred through the cracked window beside the pulpit, rustling a hymnal someone hadn’t opened in weeks.
I stood up to preach, Bible in hand, but the real sermon had already been written. It wasn’t mine. It was Psalm 106.
And i…