An old hymn came to mind the other day, and as I listened to the words, I couldn’t help but be transported back in time. There I was in my grandpa’s church; everyone was there. Grandma was at the piano playing the song as only she could; Grandpa was standing on the platform singing away as the song leader waved his hand with the tempo of Fanny Crosby’s “To the Work.” My aunts and uncles and cousins were there, along with my own family. During the chorus I can hear the echo of grandp...

My Grandpa, Jerry Osborne, faithfully served the Lord for 46 years as a pastor committed to the Gospel of Jesus Christ. After he passed away, his sermon notes and preaching Bible were stored away in a large old-fashioned trunk in the garage where they remained undisturbed and quiet for nearly 20 years. Then, as providence would have it, on the night of July 4^th (one of Jerry’s favorite holidays), 2015, that garage was set ablaze by the embers of illegal fireworks. I had always intended to s...