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Articles by Jim Hefley

Found 3 Articles by Jim Hefley

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Her name was Dolly, a frail child-adult of about 15. I was 19 and the pastor of a small Baptist church in Northern Arkansas. I'd finished college, and could not enroll at New Orleans Seminary until after my 20th birthday. The associational missionary, Jack Lafferty, set me up with the church as an interim pastor until the fall term began. Dolly eased up to me after a morning service. "Brother Jimmy, I need a ride to church next Sunday. Can you help me out?" "Sure," I said without thinking of what people might say. "Tell me where you live."

She did and the next Sunday I was at her house back in the woods in plenty of time to pick her up for Sunday school. Dolly needed a ride regularly after that. Every Sunday morning I'd come motoring into the church parking lot, with Dolly beaming at my side.

One morning, after she had gone to her class, Deacon Dick Tucker caught up with me. "Preacher, I see you brought Dolly again." "Yes sir, she n...

Motoring down Highway 2 from Fairbanks, Alaska, your eyes are peeled for North Pole. You see the McDonald's arch first, then the red-and-white striped Santa Claus house and the sign, WELCOME TO NORTH POLE, ALASKA — WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE. Your tour bus driver swings down St. Nicholas Drive and pulls up beside a 20-foot Santa Claus. You pile out with your fellow passengers to buy souvenirs, then to photograph the reindeer cavorting in a pen behind the giant Santa. You hear an excited boy from another group hollering, "Which one is Rudolph? Where's the reindeer with the shiny nose?"

Fairbanks, Alaska. Three a.m. on a cool spring morning in the parsonage of Salacha Baptist Church, near Fairbanks. Pastor Richard Faught is awakened from a sound sleep by the ringing of his phone.

The cellular caller is an Alaskan state trooper. "Moose hit three miles south of the town of North Pole on Richardson Highway. Come and get it, preacher." Faught calls a layman from his congregation. "Moose down on Richardson. Go sit on it till we get a wrecker out there." He repeats the trooper's directions.

The layman calls a friend. They drive to the location where a 1600-pound bull moose has been hit by a pickup truck. The driver is telling the trooper the accident wasn't his fault. "That big booger ran right in front of me. Just look what he's done to my truck." Another pickup pulls to a stop. Two men jump out and trot over to the trooper. "Can we have a shoulder?"

The trooper points to the moose sitters. "So...