It was on the side of the road, outside Phenix City. The small crowd of folks crawled out of their cars, wearing their Sunday best, walking toward a small pond. It was a curious sight, to see vehicles lined up on the shoulder in the middle of nowhere.
My buddy said the whole church came to these events. Which wasn't saying much—there weren't many members.
No sooner had I stepped out of the truck, than a woman in a frilly hat shushed me, whispering, “Y'all almost missed it, you're just in time.”
Lucky us.
Three men waded into shallow brown water while the small crowd sang a song
I didn't recognize. My friend knew it by heart, something to do with the River Jordan.
One man stood in the water wearing rubber chest waders, the kind meant for fishing. The boy beside him wore tennis shoes, a bathing suit, and a long white T-shirt.
"Purpose," said the man in waders. "God has a purpose for this boy."
The man went on to explain that one week prior, the boy, had survived a motorcycle wreck. Somehow, the boy walked away from the accident without breaking a bone or sustaining a single…