Same Kind Of Different As Me: A Modern-Day Slave, an International Art Dealer, and the Unlikely Woman Who Bound Them Together

By Ron Hall, Denver Moore, Lynn Vincent

Meet Denver, a guy raised below plantation-style slavery in Louisiana in the 1960s; a guy who escaped, hopping a educate to wander, homeless, for eighteen years at the streets of Dallas, Texas. now not a slave, Denver's lifestyles used to be nonetheless hopeless--until God moved. First got here a godly girl who prayed, listened, and obeyed. after which got here her husband, Ron, a world arts broker at domestic in a global of Armani-suited millionaires. after which all of them got here jointly.

yet slavery takes many varieties. Deborah discovers that she has melanoma. within the face of attainable loss of life, she fees her husband to rescue Denver. Who might be stored, and who should be misplaced? what's the destiny for those not going 3? what's God doing?

Same type of diverse As Me is the emotional story in their tale: a telling of soreness and laughter, doubt and tears, dug out among the bondages of this earth and the loose probability of heaven. No reader or listener will ever overlook it.

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I need to drift the Rio Grande and hike in giant Bend. ” Deborah beloved that and Carson agreed, so it was once made up our minds: desolate large Bend nationwide Park in some distance west Texas. in step with Deborah’s directions, we packed the automobile the day after the provider and have been actually strolling out the door whilst the telephone rang. It was once Don Shisler. “Ron, are you able to come all the way down to the challenge without delay? ” “Not quite. the children and that i have been simply leaving for per week in tremendous Bend. ” “But this can’t wait. are you able to remain by way of the telephone for a minute? I’m going to have Bob Crow name you correct again. ” Bob was once a challenge board member. I acknowledged I’d wait. inside of a minute, Bob was once at the cell explaining what he defined as “the strongest circulate of God within the 112 years of the Union Gospel project. ” Here’s what occurred: instantly after Deborah’s memorial carrier, a pair named John and Nancy Snyder approached Bob, asserting they desired to make an important present and help in elevating extra money to construct a brand new Union Gospel project. the present venture was once getting older and past fix, and it used to be Sister Bettie’s strong testimony and Denver’s tale of the way Deborah’s love for him had replaced his existence that had stirred their hearts. That information by myself shocked me, yet what Bob acknowledged subsequent made my knees wobble: “Ron, they need to construct a brand new chapel for the challenge and identify it the ‘Deborah corridor Memorial Chapel. ’” My throat closed and tears surged. i'll slightly squeeze out the phrases “We’ll speak it over in the course of our journey” ahead of striking up. Carson and Regan have been elated in regards to the presents for the recent undertaking, and we left for large Bend with excessive spirits mercifully buoying our heavy hearts. We debated the chapel-naming factor as we barreled down the line within the Suburban, loaded down with boots and backpacks. we all have been confident Deborah wouldn’t wish her identify emblazoned on something to any extent further than she’d sought after the crimson Rolls-Royce boasting from our driveway. If venture donors desired to identify the hot chapel after anyone, it's going to be Sister Bettie, all of us agreed before everything. Then from the backseat Carson threw in a monkey wrench. “Isn’t it always the folks writing the assessments who get to call where their funds goes to construct? ” We chewed on that for a minute, Regan staring out the window on the chaparral whipping through. “You recognize, Dad,” she acknowledged ultimately, “they didn’t ask us to call the chapel, simply to provide our blessing to the identify they already picked out. ” We tabled the topic at some point of the journey. At enormous Bend, the Rio Grande meanders in the course of the shimmering arroyos of the Chihuahuan wasteland, the jagged peaks of the Chisos Mountains towering above. We hiked the rimrocks and floated down the cold river via slim canyon cuts, sheer volcanic partitions hovering over our heads right into a vault of blue. It was once an easy get away, fresh and austere, a monastery of sky and stone. The week handed slowly, blessedly freed from the noise of residing. i assumed approximately Deborah, jumbled photos flashing randomly via my brain as if an individual had reshuffled our lives into a few type of anachronistic slide exhibit.

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