One day after a service, I was sitting on the altar, when I was approached by a young preacher wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket. He said, “My church is next.” I asked, “Brother, where is your church?” He took me to a window and pointed to the top of a mountain. I said, “Oh, brother, I cannot go. I cannot climb that mountain.” He fell down on his knees and wept. He said, “You must go. They are very shy mountain people, and they will not come down here into the city.” I sat back down on the altar, and I slipped my shoes off. I said, “Touch the bottom of my feet.” When he did, his hands
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