I saw color, and his color made a difference. Rev. Don Wilson was my first pastor, or at least the first pastor I remember, and he is white. Why does that matter? I grew up in a small town in Mississippi in the late 60’s, a time when the fight for racial equality was (arguably) at its height. Medgar Evers was killed trying to integrate the University of Mississippi, which was 20 minutes from my hometown, two years before I was born. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was killed 45 minutes from my hometown just three years after I was born. So, racism was alive and well. To be true, good ole southern hospitality existed, and white and blacks were cordial and friendly to one another. But, we also kn
In her walk and her talk, my mother embodies the Sacred and was one of my greatest examples of what it means to be a healing force in the world. I am grateful and honor the important role she has played in my life and the life of so many others directly and indirectly through the lives that I touch. Excerpt from Chapter 10 of my book Sacred Intelligence: The Essence of Sacred, Selfish and Shared Relationships First, I go to my mother, who is approaching 90 years old, and my father, who was 86 when he died. My parents taught my nine siblings and me that we each had a purpose in life. My parents may not have known how the Sacred would ultimately use us or what our purposes in life might ulti
