When I was a 19-year-old kid-preacher, I was trying to preach my first revival in a small, north Missouri town. It was an eight-day revival, and I had literally worked for months trying to get the ten required sermons together. God had wonderfully blessed the series, crowds came (perhaps because there was nothing else much doing in the town and also because they had never seen a 19-year-old preacher, particularly of the "girl" type), decisions were made for Christ, and a lot of people were inspired. The pastor asked, then, that the revival continue for the second week. That was fine, but I told him I had already preached all the sermons I had (and, I suspected, all the sermons there WERE in the Bible), but I consented to stay on. I committed myself to the second week because the pastor bli…