"Who I am is not important," thoughtfully replies the Sage when asked his name.  "What is important, though," he softly and clearly affirms, "is His holy, wonderful and oh so sweet name--the name of Jesus."

Some people call them holy men.  Others refer to them as mystics or ascetics. The Sage rejects any and all titles and simply claims to be an unknown and undeserving servant who doesn't even deserve to wash the feet of his loving Savior.  His words come slowly, pensively, and sparingly.  He humbly feels like he has little to say, and he is even notably slow to say that. However, many who have panned for gold in the rivers of the Sage's life have walked away much richer men and women.

Because the Sage so easily and perpetually practices the presence of God, it can sometimes be confusing to figure out if he is talking to you or to God.  Even when there are only two of you present, it's as if there are actually three there. There is nothing even remotely religious or pious or extraordinary about this at all, but it entirely seems so natural and familiar and right and, well, the way it should be.

Often the Sage, with an engaging little chuckle, tenderly refers to His Lord as "my Magnificent Obsession."  And then he will slowly close his eyes and softly begin to hum.