Born 1925 on a ranch, 50 miles S.E. of Tombstone, AZ., my work can best be described by referring you to an O.T. Prophet; Amos, a hills of Judea. The Northern Kingdom was enjoying an unprecedented time of prosperity. The expansion of trade and commerce resulted in a steady drift of people to the city. Overcrowding brought violence, wanton and luxurious living. The rich, instead of relieving the economic distress between the workingman, seemed bent on devising new means of depriving him of his property.

There was danger of invasion from the east and north and an unprecedented degree of corruption in public life. Called by God, Amos thundered a grim warning to the people. Accused of sedition, he was ordered, unsuccessfully, to get out of town!

In saying that he was not linked to a prophetic or political order, Amos stated, “I’m not a prophet, neither was I a prophet’s son. I’m just a herdsman (sleep herder) and a gatherer of sycamore fruit (figs).”

Like Amos, I too have a warning for my countrymen. Unless we repent and renew our spiritual relationship with God, we will likewise fall victim to “the sword”, the consuming fire and lose this land.

During Amos’ time, men in watchtowers peered over city walls into the night – ready to warn a sleeping city of approaching danger.

If a watchman went to sleep or failed to do his job, the blood of the slain would be on his hands.

For over 50 years, my warnings have fallen on deaf ears. Now the enemy is in the city. My hands are free of your blood, but my heart is sad.