youngest, unmarried, was teaching bilingual mathematics in high school. | had waited several years for this occasion.. The meeting took place in a large, gray, unmarked warehouse building that was crowded in back with high stacks of storage cartons. The large, cement floored, open space in front of the storage boxes was occupied by rows of metal folding chairs. They faced an unadorned, elevated wooden platform upon which was a lectern and microphone. Behind the lectern stood a casual array of a dozen or so young people, singing hymns and playing a variety of instruments. These included piano, two or three guitars and upright bass, tenor saxophone, trombone, trumpet, mouth organ and two snare drums. Sounding a bit like a Salivation Army Band, they played and sang, “They cast their nets in Galilee just off the hills of brown; such happy simple fisher folk, before the Lord came down...the peace of God, it is no peace, but strife closed in the sod. Yet let us pray for but one thing, the marvelous peace of God.” The building, used for commercial storage, packaging and mass mailings during the week and a Charismatic Christian word church on Sunday, was located at the rear of an unfinished strip mall. A new and well-polished yellow Cadillac Deville was the only vehicle parked in the no parking zone immediately in front of the entrance to the warehouse. My youngest explained that the car belonged to Carl Austin, the self-discovered and declared pastor, who spontaneously rose up to lead without academic religious training or a conventional ordination. The bright yellow car was explained as evidence of the power of God. Paraphrasing Mark, my son told me “...he who does not doubt in his heart and believes that those things he says will come to pass, he will have whatever he says...whatever things you ask for when you pray, believe that you receive them, and you will have them.” The car served as a glorious instantiation of the church’s major promise of the rewards of faith.