The Pursuit of God

Introduction It was Sunday night in downtown Toronto many years ago. The preacher with a narrow mustache moved to the pulpit. He first flexed his bony shoulders, as always, and then started in. Down below I was stretched out on a hard, creaky pew between my mom and dad, and slept right through the sermon. As it turned out, that may have been the last time the mystic A. W. Tozer ever preached. He passed away shortly after that. Later on, I got to see his private upstairs study in his narrow little house, where he used to lie face down on the floor to pray, and place his nose on a handkerchief to protect his lungs from rug dust. I treasure the memory of a man who once lent me a big picture book of birds— cardinals in bold red, exquisite little bluebirds, Baltimore orioles flaunting their orange and black to the glory of God, and stunning yellow goldfinches—an extravagance of color, and a fascination the great man and a little boy happened to share. But ever since that night when I may have slept

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