in More Ways Than One Let us pause here for a brief moment of sacrilege. God, to me, is like Sherlock Holmes. I’ve read about Him. I’ve heard a lot of talk about Him. But I’ve never seen Him myself, and His existence I have to take on faith based on published reports. In Harper’s Weekly, say. Or the book of Genesis. At least with Holmes, I’ve met folks who knew the man personally. Jehovah, on the other hand…Well, while I’d never be so bold as to say the Man Upstairs isn’t home, I’ve also never known him to answer when any of my friends or family came around looking for help. I’ve always assumed Gustav shared my uncertainty on matters ecclesiastic. My brother neither hosannaed in the highest nor looked askance at those who do, and his problems he always chose to meet head-on without any bowing on bended knee. So you can imagine my dismay seeing him down on both knees before an altar, nodding tearfully as a preacher asked him if he repudiated Satan and accepted Jesus Christ as his lord and savior.
