Before I began this memoir, I would have said, if asked, that my work was my life. Having finished, it now seems to me that, in fact, my life was my work: a work assigned to the author by his Author, the work of journeying to a true faith. As I wrote the scenes of my biography, I was startled—stunned sometimes—to discover how often God had been openly present in those scenes and yet invisible to the man he was beckoning, guiding, and guarding. It was a story I didn’t know I was telling until I told it. I was grateful to God before. I’m doubly grateful now.
There was another aspect of the story I did understand from the beginning. If this memoir sometimes reads like a love letter to my wife, Ellen, it’s because it is. For nearly forty years, she has been my muse, my song, my soul, my only-ever love. I could not have survived the troubles detailed here, nor have experienced the joys, without her.
And I could not have written this book. The first draft was a sloppy monster, twice as long as this. I’d never attempted a long-form non-fiction work before, and I guess I threw in everything I could think of. My wife, always my first reader and editor, went through it and told me, “Half of this is the best book you’ve ever written.” She then took nearly two weeks out of her busy life to show me, page by page, how to cut it down to its present size. In doing this, she made the book half as long and twice as good. And yes, I noticed she didn’t cut out any of the encomia to herself, but what would have been the point? I only would have put them back again.
My thanks to her, as always.
My thanks also to Webster Younce, my editor at HarperCollins, who patiently talked the book through with me before I began writing, helped me as I worked along the way, and then edited the final version. I should also thank HarperCollins Christian Fiction publisher Daisy Hutton, who listened to my story over dinner one evening and said, “You should tell that story to Webster.” I’m glad I did.
Thank you, too, to Don Fehr, my non-fiction agent at Trident Media, for taking on a stranger from the fiction department and representing him so well.
Thank you to my son, Spencer, for reading a draft, discussing some of the ideas with me, and guiding me on matters of Greek translation and culture.
And finally to my friend Father Douglas Ousley, rector of the Church of the Incarnation in Manhattan: thank you for some timely enlightenment on Christian doctrine. And for the baptism.