The story is usually for Sunday morning. But tonight–Sunday night-there will be certain national story displayed in the Church of ABC, and it was pretty special because it started here in Detroit, with a drop of rain water.
As the years passed, the rain started rotting roof. The ceiling grows chocolate. Plaster peeled and fell.
One morning, the pastor of this church–big, smiling, heavyset man, Henry Covington–see the rain has been rotting hole through the ceiling. It gets bigger. And bigger. As soon as the hole is nearly 20 meters high, and water came pouring, splashing in the congested as congregants prayed.
In other churches, elsewhere, they began a drive to raise funds for repairs. But in this church, in the city, there is no money. Congregants are poor. Some of them homeless. And Pastor Henry and an obedient once that, in giving his life to God, and bring life to bad left behind nothing.
So in the shortness of the Church, a few years ago, I sat down with Henry-five minutes after meeting her–and we see that hole, and we are talking about improving it, but first he said he had been drug dealers, a thief and an addict, jailed. He told me it was because he wanted to be honest. There is a Spirit in the air, and we became friends.