The first time I saw April, we were going door to door in a shabby Hispanic neighborhood, telling people to “repent or burn,” “Jesus saves,” “get saved” and “come to church.” April made me nervous because her eyes had a crazy, buggy glaze. It didn’t help the matter that she was talking incoherently about stabbing someone and miming it out. When I ran into her again, eight years later, I was impressed by how much she had c...