A Road Less Travelled?

I grew up in the Pentecostal church.

Met my bride there.

Married there.

Raised our kids there, right up through baptism.

Some of my dearest friends and family have served that church—pastors, teachers, faithful folks who just showed up and lived their faith loud and true.

There will always be a part of me rooted in that tradition—grateful for it, shaped by it. But I’ve also come to believe this: our denominations, however dear, should never become barriers to our shared faith. We may take different paths, but we’re all aiming for the same destination.

I still remember that Sunday night, nearly 55 years ago, in that little Pentecostal church. I was just a 17-year-old kid when the change came over me. I made a decision that night that instantly altered the course of my life. What I didn’t know then was that I’d just been handed a roadmap—one with a path already marked out for me.

Sure, I’ve tried to take detours. I’ve wandered now and then. Sometimes the straight road looked harder than turning right or left. But my destination? It’s never changed. That compass still points true.

These days, I find myself walking with another wonderful community of believers—different denomination, same heart. Same goal. Thank God our paths crossed. It feels like that was part of the plan all along.

Every day, we take one more step down that road toward home. And I believe this deeply: God made the map, but only we can take a wrong turn. You’ll know if you have—because you’ll lose sight of where you’re headed.

So hold your map gently, keep your eyes on the horizon, and be kind to fellow travelers—no matter what church they call home.

Like Roy Rogers used to sing,

“Happy trails to you, until we meet again.”

God bless.