seat of your government no less, to fish for souls.' He grinned into the cameras. 'So with nothing more than four hundred dollars and a suitcase full of hick clothes I learned the meaning of what it is to be a fool for Christ. When I stepped off that bus in Washington
DC I literally did not know which way to turn. Everywhere I looked there was traffic and hostile faces, and I thought: man, you've lost your mind, this is crazy; this isn't an act of faith, it's an act of stupidity.' Bobby stopped abruptly and stared out at the sea of admirers. The air crackled with expectation. He continued in hushed, dramatic tones: 'And after I'd walked the streets for an hour or so I wandered into a poor black neighbourhood. There were kids on the corners dealing drugs, prostitutes giving me the eye, guys in bandannas who looked as if they'd shoot you down for a nickel. And I'll be honest, folks, I was afraid - I'd never been to no big city before. I tried to retrace my steps but I just got more and more lost and desperate. I was scurrying along a sidewalk that was all covered with trash and broken needles and I turned a corner and ran slap-bam into a group of bums outside a liquor store smoking what I took to be marijuana. There was four of them, all gang tattoos and gold teeth - you know the kind. Well, they took their time looking me up and down in my western boots and my cowboy hat, and then the biggest of 'em stepped toward me. I was so frightened I couldn't even run; tell the truth, I could hardly breathe. Then this fella says, "Sir, you look like a man who's lost his way. May I be of any assistance?" And in this squeaky little voice I said, "Sure. Can you point me the way to downtown?" And this fella smiled like I'll never forget: a cross between a great white shark and Charles Manson. Then guess what, folks?' Bobby smiled. 'He pulled a gun, robbed my money and took my best hat.'
The crowd roared and, watching Bobby's smiling face on the big screen, Jenny couldn't help sharing their elation.
'You see the moral of the story is, not even Almighty God can protect us from our foolishness.'
Amens and more laughter rang around the auditorium till Bobby raised his hands to call for silence.
'Four years in college and a solid upbringing, I shoulda known better,' he trumpeted, stamping the heel of his boot on the stage. 'I shoulda known that God gives us the tools and it's down to us to use 'em the very best we can. Well, fortunately, he gave me a second chance. When I'd done calling my mama and getting an ear full of I-told-you-sos, I volunteered myself at Mount Zion Church. Three weeks later I was promoted to a salaried position as an outreach worker and street pastor. My job was to pick street drunks and junkies out of the gutter and feed soup to the homeless. I worked hard and lived simple, but I'll be honest with you, my friends, it was tough, thankless toil and my faith was sorely tested. Two unbroken years of service in the Lord later, I was sent out to take over a run-down old church in a neighbourhood so wild even the rats were scared to go out at night. How I longed for green fields the day I set eyes on that place. I swear, if I could've raised the fare I'd have jumped right on the Greyhound back to Oakville. But I didn't have a penny. There was nowhere to run. Well, that beat-up heap of rubble was so filthy and depressing I decided the only thing I could do was to name it in such a way as to give me hope, because to be honest, people, right then I had none in my heart.' Bobby turned his gaze to the floor and lowered his voice to a whisper. 'I named it the Mission Church of God.'
A profound silence descended over the congregation, broken only by a single 'Praise be' from a lone female voice deep in their midst.
'That was exactly twelve years ago next Tuesday. Friends, I'll make a confession. Even a pastor forgets to read his scripture sometimes. There I was in a crime-ridden slum pining for the forests and creeks of my carefree youth