Do you hear much talk about Jesus?” he asked me, as we ran up the stairs at the Soldiers and Sailors Monument in downtown Indianapolis. I can’t recall if they were from Kentucky, Ohio, Texas or some other place. I’d met these guys at one of the meals the day before, and we all agreed to go for a morning run for exercise. I didn’t know much about this guy except that he was attending a men’s conference at the Institute in Basic Life Principles’ facility in Indianapolis, a place where I lived for a couple of years as a teenager. IBLP wasn’t about a healthy, normal life.

With each step, I knew his statement was accurate. “But I don’t hear much talk about Jesus.” Lots of talk about authority,” he said, pausing for a breath.

“I’m not sure I want to be part of this organization.” “Well, honestly, I’m concerned,” said one man. “What do you think of IBLP so far?” I asked one of these newfound running mates. (PERSONAL ESSAY) In the faint light one morning in the early 1990s, my feet ran the pavement toward downtown Indianapolis as I bantered with other runners in that lilting conversation that happens in between strides.

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