When I was in sixth grade we moved from Michigan to Texas.
The one thing we left behind was our black and white TV. I’m talking no color. All the the pictures were black and white with shades of grey in between.
My five siblings and I desperately missed our shows. The Little Rascals. The Lone Ranger. Bugs Bunny. Stuff like that.
Dad’s answer to our despondency was radio. Every evening he turned on one particular station. It was a Christian format with lots of kids programs.
I think that Dad hoped that his “bait-and-switch” tactic would not only enhance our faith but take away our lust for what he called the “boob” tube.
Now, don’t get your knickers in a knot. Back then, the phrase “boob” was not what it means today. It referred to someone who was more of a goof. Lacking common sense.
After no TV for a couple of months, the radio chatter grew more and more interesting. After years of cartoons I actually looked forward to the reading of a book. On the radio. Imagine that.
The title of the book was Through Gates of Splendor. It sounds more like a theme of the 2012 London Olympic ceremonies. Rock Stars. Fire Works. Fancy lights.
But, we are not talking about glamour here. Thick make up. Expensive cars. Lavish dancing.
It’s the sort of splendor that five young men experienced. Far from home. An experience that shocked the entire world. Listening to their story changed the way I viewed eternity. And I was barely 12 years old.
I think it’s a story you deserve to hear.
Tomorrow, I’ll tell you all about it.