When I walked out of the office, a host of smiling church members greeted me. More than a decade later, I can only recall the words of one well-wisher, however—and the reason that I remember his words is because they came back to haunt me many times in the months that followed. The words came from an older man known as Buck who walked with a limp and spoke with a smile. “So glad to have you here, Brother Timothy,” he said as he gripped my hand. “I know, with that guitar of yours, you’re going to