the Reverend Bob Wing was known to thunder from his pulpit now and then. “Not since the civil rights movement of the sixties. Nobody lays down their life anymore, nobody throws themselves with all of their heart onto the picket line of justice. But here at Sands Gospel, we still feel it.” At that point, his fist would strike his black robe over his heart with a thud his microphone picked up. “Where there is racism, where there is injustice, where there is death that shouldn't be, we'll be there. We have a passion, all right, a passion for justice, for peace, for human rights.”The faces in the pews demonstrated his words, for they were young and old, black, brown, golden, and white and every shade in between. It billed itself as a liberal church— like the Unitarians—with no creed but with a wide-open welcome mat for Christians and Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Wiccans, atheists, agnostics, and anybody with a searching, doubting, crusading nature. It wasn't traditional or conventional, but then neither was he.The tall, young preacher was mesmerizing and handsome.
