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The skies over the high plains were hushed, as if heaven itself had bowed its head. Before a crowd of mourners stretching beyond the horizon — and millions watching across the world — Donnie Swaggart, now 70, stepped slowly toward the casket of his friend, Graham Greene.“Go to God, my friend.”

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“40 Years Later… They Didn’t Just Sing—They Stopped Time Itself.” When Alphaville lifted their voices to “Forever Young,” it wasn’t nostalgia—it was a spell. The very first notes shimmered through the night air, and suddenly thousands were no longer concertgoers but dreamers, clasped in a single heartbeat that stretched across generations. Young faces lit by cell phones, older ones lit by memory, all sang as though the anthem was written just for them.

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“Decades Later… He Didn’t Just Sing—He Preached Resurrection in Every Note.” Guy Penrod’s live rendering of “Then Came the Morning” was not merely a performance—it was a sunrise breaking open the night.

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The night felt like a page torn from history. Before thousands gathered under a sea of lights, two cousins — bound by blood, faith, and music — stepped forward one last time. Jimmy Swaggart, his Bible resting on the piano, raised his eyes to heaven. Beside him, in a wheelchair, sat Jerry Lee Lewis, frail but fierce, his hands still itching for the keys that had carried him through a lifetime.

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Guy Penrod’s appearance at the funeral of Graham Greene, the Oscar-nominated actor for Dances with Wolves, who died aged 73, left the hall in stunned silence. Guy Penrod stepped forward, his silver hair catching the soft glow of candlelight, dressed simply in black.

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The skies over the high plains were hushed, as if heaven itself had bowed its head. Before a crowd of mourners stretching beyond the horizon — and millions watching across the world — Donnie Swaggart, now 70, stepped slowly toward the casket of his friend, Graham Greene.“Go to God, my friend.”

admin
News

“40 Years Later… They Didn’t Just Sing—They Stopped Time Itself.” When Alphaville lifted their voices to “Forever Young,” it wasn’t nostalgia—it was a spell. The very first notes shimmered through the night air, and suddenly thousands were no longer concertgoers but dreamers, clasped in a single heartbeat that stretched across generations. Young faces lit by cell phones, older ones lit by memory, all sang as though the anthem was written just for them.

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The skies over the high plains were hushed, as if heaven itself had bowed its head. Before a crowd of mourners stretching beyond the horizon — and millions watching across the world — Donnie Swaggart, now 70, stepped slowly toward the casket of his friend, Graham Greene.“Go to God, my friend.”

News

“40 Years Later… They Didn’t Just Sing—They Stopped Time Itself.” When Alphaville lifted their voices to “Forever Young,” it wasn’t nostalgia—it was a spell. The very first notes shimmered through the night air, and suddenly thousands were no longer concertgoers but dreamers, clasped in a single heartbeat that stretched across generations. Young faces lit by cell phones, older ones lit by memory, all sang as though the anthem was written just for them.

News

“Decades Later… He Didn’t Just Sing—He Preached Resurrection in Every Note.” Guy Penrod’s live rendering of “Then Came the Morning” was not merely a performance—it was a sunrise breaking open the night.

News

The night felt like a page torn from history. Before thousands gathered under a sea of lights, two cousins — bound by blood, faith, and music — stepped forward one last time. Jimmy Swaggart, his Bible resting on the piano, raised his eyes to heaven. Beside him, in a wheelchair, sat Jerry Lee Lewis, frail but fierce, his hands still itching for the keys that had carried him through a lifetime.