Make Service Personalized

He sat on the right side of the pew a row up from me. Wearing noticeably expensive trousers, alligator shoes without socks and a new dress shirt, he looked like a wealthy man on holiday that, on a Sunday morning impulse, elected to stop by our quaint mountain church. When we stood up for the first hymn, he sang enthusiastically, like he was enjoying an old song he had not sung since his youth.

Then, I noticed the cuff of his neatly pressed light blue shirt. A three-letter monogram of his initi...