In 1972 he was walking on the LDS Church-owned Brigham Young University campus, where he and other U. teaching fellows were attending a convocation. Suddenly, he was removed from the campus by security people "because I was inappropriately dressed (in jeans) and had long hair (an Afro) that covered my ears."

When he became a political activist, introducing legislative bills to declare a Martin Luther King Day and to change the name of 600 South to Martin Luther King Boulevard, critics literally shot up his office in the church, and he received a chunk of hate mail.

On the other hand, he has always cultivated a friendly relationship with the LDS Church and claims President James E. Faust, of the church's First Presidency, as "a personal friend" who assisted him in finding the land that the Calvary Church currently occupies. The Rev. Davis has also been asked to speak in several LDS sacrament meetings.

It is the pastor's opinion that Utah made civil-rights advances in the decade of the '70's but more recently has faltered. "Since then we have come to a standstill. There are too many housing problems left, too much mean-spiritedness in some political decision-making, too many people who are economically and educationally disadvantaged."

The reverend said he still calls on "the mayor of the capital city" and that together he and Rocky Anderson protested the death penalty several years ago.

The Rev. Davis dedicates much of his time to encouraging the five choirs that perform at Calvary Church and other venues around the valley. "I'm an advocate of music in the church. It's a tool for communication and to release inner emotions. It talks to people. It soothes the soul."

In spite of his tongue-in-cheek claim that he doesn't sing, the pastor often provides the lead voice for the choirs, and he sings with a powerful, mellow baritone voice, the same instrument he uses with gusto when preaching the gospel.

"Our music is energized, exciting, engaging. It requires that we sing with all we have."

In June 1980, Davis traveled back to his family homestead in rural Georgia, where he spent time cleaning and clearing the overgrown yard. One evening he tried to burn some trash, but it wouldn't catch fire. He used some kerosene but still couldn't get it to light. Finally, he used some gasoline that his brother gave him. Still no luck.

So he drove three miles to a gas station, got some fresh gasoline and returned. This time when he struck a match "the air exploded." Realizing he was badly burned, he rolled on the ground. Davis writes in his book, "I looked down at my arms and saw the skin hanging like wet spaghetti. My flesh was raw and white with particles of dirt clinging to the blood on my arms."

It also parched his head and ears and robbed his face of skin. He suffered pure misery for more than a year and had great difficulty keeping warm during that time. Davis managed to completely recover, and there is no obvious evidence of his injuries — until he shows a reporter the scars on his hands and arms.

The burning incident, he said in the interview, had an extraordinary effect on him, slowing him down, causing him to look harder at his "humanity and vulnerability." "More importantly, it was a healing experience. My face has healed, but my hands are still scarred. Going through the fire was a refining time.

"The fire was brought on by my own actions — but I believe it was used by God to bring me to another place."

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E-mail: dennis@desnews.com