When I was in seminary, I was privileged to be part of a tight-knit group of about eight buddies who all worked for the same company to help support our young families while we were in school. Of course groups like that often have nicknames for each of its constituent members. Mine was “Fang.” Another guy (from Nebraska, naturally) was “Husker Breath.” Then there was “the Bull,” and so on.
From time to time, we really picked on each other–in a spirit of fun and great brotherly love, of course. At one time or another it was dished out pretty heavily on each of us. But one guy in the group held a “trump card.” Continue reading