The day I walked out of the Southern Baptist Convention

Curtis Honeycutt does an unusually good job of explaining what he did the day he walked out of the Southern Baptist Convention.

First:

I didn’t want to be part of a group who was known for what they were against; I wanted people to know me for what I was for . . . although I didn’t know exactly what that was yet. All I knew is that I couldn’t leave the parking garage fast enough to head back to the intern house at 23rd and Broadway in Indy. I grew frustrated at myself, as I had forgotten my umbrella, and the rain fell on the protestors and me alike, without playing favorites.

What to do next answered itself:

I answered the door. A rain-soaked man stood on the other side, homeless. He introduced himself as Percy, a guy who had fallen on some bad luck. I decided to let him in, and he asked me if I had any dry clothes he could change into. I ran upstairs and found a pair of brown cargo shorts, a pair of socks, and a Pacers shirt to give him. These weren’t exactly clothes that were in the Goodwill pile; they were some of my favorite shorts and a shirt I recently got at a Pacers’ playoff game. He said he liked basketball, so I gave it to him. Now, dressed like a college student, he asked me to help him find a place to stay. That didn’t sound like too big of a request for me, so we got in my car and drove.

We recommend you read both posts[1, 2] in their entirety. [H/T: Bruce Gourley at BaptistLife.Com]