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A MILE THAT SHOWED CONCERN
During the week he was a bus driver. On Sunday he taught our Sunday School class. At fifteen, like many youths, I became a Sunday School dropout. I assured myself, “No one will miss me.” How wrong I was. It took me by surprise when Mr. Tisdale knocked on the door of my home.Maybe it was the hurt look in his eyes; maybe it was the concern I saw in his face; perhaps it was the fact he had walked nearly a mile to impress upon me how much I was needed. Whatever it was, it worked miracles. Promises were made. The following Sunday I kept those promises. This happened nearly twenty-five years ago. Recently, on a Sunday morning, preparing to preach again, I felt a strong urge to write my first letter of appreciation to my old Sunday School teacher. I wrote, “Mr. Tisdale, had you not walked up my dusty road that day and placed your…