THE CHURCH ANTS (#8)

As together we stand and sing.

BP

POEM POWER (#4)

Saturday night 

Is always so fun 

Unless you're a Preacher

Who's sermon's not done.

Aliens and Cowboys?

Or Bibles and Pews?

Another decision,

That's so hard to choose.

Should I stay in

And study and pray?

Or go into town

Buy Goobers and play?

Which do I pick?

What should I do?

A movie or Church?
Popcorn or Ruth? 

Read my concordance

Thought of Harrison Ford

Wasn't he good

Way back in Star Wars?

Then out of the blue

My brain stops hurtin'.

A movie illustration

Might pep up my sermon.

So I pack up my Bible

Assured I can swing it. 

I'll go out tonight

Tomorrow I'll wing it.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE BLERMON CHALLENGE (#1)

Recently someone sent me this picture...

...and submitted the challenge that I wouldn't be able to BleachTM (blog-preach) a BlermonTM (blog-sermon) about it.  

This may come as a surprise to many of you, but I'm afraid they were right.  I CAN'T Bleach a BlermonTM about it.  I can BleachTM THREE.  I've already finished the titles for them:

1.) The Parable of the Mouthy Elder Fish.

2.) When Bad Things Happen To Ugly Fish.

3.) What Would Jesus Do With THESE?

I could also make a couple of pretty cool Bible Greeting Cards out of it too.

"Missed you at the last Pot Luck Dinner..."

"Day Old Fish, Day Older You.  Happy Birthday!" 

(insert Bible fish verse)

"Congratulations on getting baptized!  Some friends who were there wanted to say hi". 

I could also do a short video/documentary called: 

 

Fishers of MEN

 Smell Better.

I wish somebody could tell me how do I do it?    I'm amazing.  I'm a BlermonTM force of nature.  A BleachingTM Wonder.

Let's eat.  Red Lobster tonight, Gidget?

As together we stand and sing.

BP 

PS: New Movie idea:

"HE AIN'T AN UGLY, DEAD FISH...

HE'S MY BROTHER."

BP'S SERMON CHECKLIST

1.) WELCOME 
  - Visitors
  - Regular Members
  - Members who attend like Visitors.

2.) ANNOUNCEMENTS
  - The Summer Jell-o Salad Picnic is this Tuesday at noon.  We need more shaved carrots!  If you have shaved carrots or carrots that CAN be shaved, see Dottie.
  - Ladies Bible Class has been cancelled due to lack of Ladies who haven't read the book of Ruth in the last 20 years.
  -Dick and Doris Melanie have a new Lazy Boy recliner!  It is the kind with the drink holders and attachments for video games.  Dick sends thanks for all of your prayers over the years asking for the recliner.  Doris asks for your prayers for the coming years.

SERMON: 

Fish, Friends and Forgiveness

INTRODUCTION 
  a.) Funny farm story about a talking fish.
   b.) Scripture reading (TBD)
   c.) Power Point pic of me fishing in Montana (the weird hat one).

POINT #1 FRY A FISH
  a.) Sad story about a fish I killed.
  b.) Scripture of Jesus eating fish (TBD).
  c.) YouTube vid of guy frying fish and falling into the water.

POINT #2: FRY A FRIEND
  a.) Funny/scary story about a Friend I almost killed while fishing (in Idaho, not the Manitoba friend).
   b.) Make a reference to JAWS, friends, fish, people dying etc.
  c.) Show JAWS clip (long version) 
  d.) Buy new book on "How to Format A Sermon" (this is too hard).


POINT #3: FORGIVE, FORGET, FORECLOSE(ing).
  a.) Make some big point here.
  b.) Moment of silence
  c.) Tie everything together
  d.) Dog Poem: Why Dogs Make Me Cry And Fish Don't.


GIVE ALTAR CALL/INVITATION

Say...

As together we stand and sing.

BP 

ONE OF THOSE DAYS

Well, it happened.  

Yesterday was INDEED, one of THOSE days.

You know the kind I'm talkin' about.

But no, it wasn't one of THOSE those days.

It wasn't one of those days where nothing goes right and everything goes wrong.  The kind where you put salt in the coffee and sugar on the potatoes; get a notice on that property tax bill you forgot about and lose your favorite pen down the toilet.  

What do you mean you've never  put salt in your coffee?  Just me?  Oh.  OK, Smartie Pants. Good for you.  Anyhow...

It wasn't one of THOSE days.

It also wasn't one of those days where nothing could go wrong.  The kind of day where you find yourself virtually in the zone, flawless, effortless, brilliant.  The kind of day where you wake up, look in the mirror and are astonished by just how dang handsome you are without even tryin'.  The kind of day where you win the lottery without even buying a ticket.


Nope.  It was not like that either. Yesterday was a different one of THOSE days.  But it was still the kind of day that you don't too quickly forget...if ever.

Yesterday was one of those days where you unexpectedly spend time laughing really hard in a pizza joint, in the middle of the day, with a good friend, who you love and admire beyond words, and hear them tell you how great life is for them right now, and how busy they are, and how creative they've been.  

And it feels so good to hear them tell you all about it, and to see the joy on their face, and you are so happy and grateful for that moment because it reminds you how good it can be.

And it was one of those days where a little later on, you see another friend who you love and admire, who's been struggling so hard and so bravely for so long just to survive, stand up on a stage, so weak and sick and frail,  in front of hundreds of other friends, and somehow, incredibly, miraculously do what he does better than anybody else in the world.  

And you can't believe your eyes, and you hold your breath, and you beat back the tears, and you try not to pass out, and when the song's over, you find yourself cheering louder than you ever have, but you can't hear yourself cheering because there are just too many others around you cheering too.

And it just kills you, because you're just so happy and grateful for that moment to see the joy on his face, and to feel the love in the room because it reminds you how good it can be. 

And it was one of those days where the phone rings and it's another friend, who you've loved and admired since you were a kid, who's gone through a really rough time lately.  So rough that you didn't think you'd ever have this conversation.  And your heart's been breaking for days as you've waited to hear if he made it or not, and if he'd be normal afterwards or not, and you can't quite believe you're actually hearing his voice.

So when you hear him say hello it just kills you, and you stutter for a moment while you try to force words, that are suddenly too big and too important, out of your mouth.  

So you fight back the tears, and you hold your breath, and you crack some jokes to try and lighten the mood, and then you both laugh a little.  But all you're thinking is how glad you are he's still around, and how great it is that he still thinks your dumb jokes are funny, and how relieved you are that what he so cruelly tried to do to himself didn't work, and that you hope with everything you've got that he knows now how many are out here still cheering for him, and still hoping for him, and still in awe of him, and still needing him and still loving him more than he will ever know.   

And when you hang up, you're just so happy and grateful for that moment because it reminds you  how good it IS.   

It was one of THOSE days yesterday.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THOUGHT OF THE DAY #8

Today's thought of the day, isn't mine originally, but since hearing it, I DO think it on a regular basis as if it were my own. Hopefully someday I'll forget who thought it first and I'll be able to claim it as my very own.  I love having something to look forward to.

So in some ways, this is sort of a Guest Thinker.  Eat your heart out, Joel Olsteen.

Here it is:

"What you ARE

Is what you have been.

What you'll BE

Is what you do NOW."

- Buddha 

Before you go, you may wanna re-read that one again.  It's good.  

As is my "Snoopy On Too Much Benadryl" picture below.

As together we stand and sing.

BP

MY TATTOO

Well, I guess I'm gonna have to break down and get a tattoo.

I really don't  want one.  All that pinching and poking is really something I can do without.  But it seems like all the cool, young Preachers have them these days, and let it never be said that Brother Preacher was remiss in the never-ending pursuit of cool.  As a public figure, it's sorta mandatory for me.  I have to relate to my audience at all times.  As I have tried to explain to my wife Gidget, "It's a work thing".

Now that I think of it, tattoos are probably why Preachers don't preach in suits and ties anymore.  Can't show off your cool, new "dragon on a flaming motorcycle" tat in a suit and tie. Gotta go t-shirt for that.  Possibly tank top. 

I will admit it's very effective to see a "tatoo" Preacher in action.  They hold out their arms to make a point and BAM - there's that "electric skunk" tattoo on their forearm starin' right out at you.  Immediately it hits you, "Hey look! That dude has a SKUNK on his arm!" And then I completely forget what he was preachin' about.  Electric skunks will do that to ya.

The Tatoo Preacher also has a bit of dangerous mystique about him which I find very intriguing.  You take one look at that tattoo and start thinkin', "Wow.  This guy must have had some kind of WILD past!  Was it the war?  Prison?  I wonder which mall he got that skunk tattoo from?" 

Of course, once I get this tattoo idea past Gidget and my grumpy Elders, there are still gonna be 2 major problems that must be addressed: 

1.) The kind of tattoo.

2.) Tattoo Placement.



In my case, the KIND of tattoo I get will be key.  Like a lot of these cool Preachers, I TOO have a past, but it's not all that impressive.  I don't think a tattoo of my trip to the Yangton, South Dakota Bible Youth Camp will translate all that well.  So I've gotta think of something else.

Of course, people will EXPECT me to get a Bible or maybe a cross - but that's too predictable. A burning pulpit could be cool.  Or maybe some spinning communion trays on a skateboard.

I LOVE Winnie the Pooh and have always enjoyed his movie work.  Winnie the Pooh at a pulpit spinning communion trays could be cool,  but Gidget looks at me funny when I suggest it. I think it's because Pooh never wears pants.


I could get the bunch of lines tattoo.  There is a fantastic Chinese restaraunt we go to that has some pretty hip lookin' lines in the menu.  I just don't wanna walk around with Lunch Specials on my neck.

Perhaps a list of my 10 best sermon ideas, or the 5 steps of salvation would work.  A web address isn't a bad idea. Might as well get some advertising in while I'm being hip.

I don't care for the pictures of people tattoos.  They always end up lookin' like green zombies to me.  So that's out.

The Apostle Paul and Pooh reading a Bible on a motorcycle COULD be the answer.  I know I've never seen it before.  Lemme think on it.

Tattoo Placement is the other problem to consider - and when I really think of it, may be the deal breaker.  

You see, in my case, WHEREVER I decide to put a tattoo is going to be problematic in that the proposed spot on my body for pricking will require a fair amount of shaving and sit ups.  Neither of which interest me in the slightest. 

When old guys get tattoos I think they fail to consider this important fact.  When young guys get tattoos they fail to realize that what is today's firm and sexy will be tomorrow's loose and saggy.   

"Think Before You Ink"

BP, circa 1971

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE MATCH

Genesis 32: 24-30

 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.  

When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. 

Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”

   

 But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”

The man asked him, “What is your name?”

   

“Jacob,” he answered.

Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,^[f] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”

Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.”

   

But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there. 

 So Jacob called the place Peniel,^[g] saying, “It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.”

Hosea 12:4 - 

Yea, he wrestled with the Angel, and prevailed;

I've never wrestled an angel before.  I'm assuming they'd cheat.  I know I would, if I were an angel.

How could you not cheat?  It'd be too easy. Just being your regular, 'ole angel self would be an automatic and unfair advantage. 

Look, imagine you're angel.  You have a little thing called WINGS tacked to your back.  I'd use mine to swoop down on my opponent then slap his head with 'em till he saw feathers. 

Guess what?  You've got wings?  YOU WIN.

But wings are nothing compared to the angel's ability to glow in the dark.  If you were an angel and wrestled at night, you could "go dark" for the first part of the match, then suddenly pop on the glow feature, and BOOM - you've just created momentary blindness in your opponent.

Glow in the dark?  YOU WIN.

Better still, in the day time Angels can go completely invisible (except to donkeys), which as anyone knows who has seen certain 3 Stooges movies, always makes for a nice bit of carnage.

Invisible?  YOU WIN.

Of course, if the wings and invisibility and the glow feature don't get the job done, all the wrestling angel has to do is whip out the ever-present sword/harp/trumpet  gear and finish the job in short order.

Robe full of gadgets?  YOU WIN...again.

Angels don't lose wrestling matches.  They can't.

Which is why this story has always confounded me.  In THIS story, the angel DOES lose.  Or at best, DOESN'T win.

Here Jacob wrestles an angel (some translations call it "a man") all night.  In the passage it says that...

"When the man saw that he could not overcome Jacob..."

Huh?  Really?  The angel COULD NOT overcome Jacob?  REALLY?  Jacob was THAT tough?  REALLY?  That musta been some head lock.  Not bad for a guy who didn't like the outdoors, or have wings, or glow in the dark.

Not only could the angel not beat Jacob, but he resorts to cheating (what'd I tell ya) and smacks Jacob in the hip, injuring him in the process, and then demands that Jacob let him go.

Well, sorry, Mr. Angel.  Not gonna be that easy this time.  This is Jacob you're dealing with, not some run-of-the-mill, Sunday School Weenie.

Simply put: Jacob doesn't let go. Even after the angel tells him to. Jacob doesn't give in.  He doesn't stop fighting.  Instead, he continues to struggle, continues to fight, continues to wrestle against impossible odds.  Instead of giving in to the Angel's demands, Jacob digs in harder, and says,

"I will not let you go, unless you bless me." 

I don't care who you are - that's impressive.  That's mouthy.  That's tough.  To refuse to let the angel go shows a real truth about Jacob.  He was going to get his blessing, no matter what the angel wanted. 

The amazing thing is, 2 verses later, Jacob gets it.  He gets exactly what he wanted. 

Which was nothing unusual for Jacob.  He usually got what he wanted, even though he didn't always go about getting it in the "proper" way.  By this time in the story Jacob mouthing off to the angel doesn't surprise us at all.

He appears to have a been a headstrong, stubborn, crafty, risk-taking, conniving, rascal.  A rascal who, by the way, ALWAYS got what he wanted...eventually.  Which makes the meaning of his new name all the more understandable, 

"...you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome."

Not bad.  But also not anything like how we'd do it.

Jacob's way just seems so...impolite to us.  So pushy.  It's just not how  a "good" person should ask for things. For us it would go more like this:

"Let me Go."

"OK.  Sorry.  I hope I didn't come off too pushy.  I tend to get overly excited and...anyway...sorry.  Maybe we can talk about that blessing when you get some free time?" 

That's how WE do it.  But thankfully, that's NOT how Jacob did it.  Not by a long shot.  And it's good he didn't do it our way because if he HAD...he probably would've gone home empty handed.

We forget, Jacob wasn't condemned for his determined, stubborn, tough fighting style - on the contrary, he was rewarded for it.   

The angel hadn't come down and offer to bless him on the spot, free of charge. Jacob had to fight for it.  Struggle for it.  Demand it.  It was only THEN that he was given what he was asking for. 

But it is the end of the story that takes an even weirder turn and makes my head explode every time I read it.   The angel wasn't an angel, or a man.  It was God.

God.  The loving father.  The giver of all good things.  The one who will gladly supply all our needs.  THIS was who Jacob was fighting with?    THIS was who Jacob had to WRESTLE a blessing from?   

Um.  Yes.  Oh...yes.

And guess what?  After much struggle, and much sweat and much demanding, Jacob got what he wanted...from God.

Which is not normally how we think of the whole "God thing" either.  

For us it's much more civilized.  Easier.  Nicer.  More polite.  We ask, He gives.  We ask.  He doesn't give.  There is rarely any struggle to anything we do.   

"Let me go!"

"Oh, OK, sorry.  So, I guess we can talk about that whole blessing thing later I guess?"

Which is why we are so rarely touched by God.  So rarely smacked.  Never surprised.  Never confused.  Our hips are fine.  We never do anything that would cause them to be otherwise.

But at the same time, we aren't REALLY blessed by Him either, aren't really challenged by our faith, aren't moved in our churches, aren't prompted by injustice, aren't fulfilled in our walk, aren't wrapped up in passionate, creative works, aren't joyfully swept up by life.

How could we be?


So polite.

So good.

So civil. 

Meanwhile Jacob asks...and God asks...

Wrestled any angels lately?


As together we stand and sing.


BP

MARY

 Listen, I've had my fill.  And so, I have employed the help of my very good friend, Greg Lee to guest BleachTM for me today.  He's a nice guy - but no promises.  He may stink.  I really don't care.  I'll be at the beach.  See you tomorrow.  BP

When I recently returned home from a long trip, there was a message on my ancient answering machine.  It was the voice of a slightly depressed, older woman.  It sounded like she’d really been through it.

She said, “Well, hi there, Greg.  This is Mary Sizener.  How’s that for a blast from the past?  Anyhow, just wanted to let you know that Richard is going in for his surgery next week, and it’s been terrible trying to get the doctors to just sit down and talk with us about it.  But it looks like it’s gonna be stints.  Just like we figured.

“Anyhow, I thought who knows more about stints than you?  Except of course, a cardiologist.”

She laughed, then sighed.

“Anyway, I thought I’d call and get your opinion on it all.  So, give us a call when you can – and NO you don’t have to worry about running into DOREY!  She’s finally out of our life for good. So good riddance, I say!”

Then she gave her number, and hung up.

When I finished listening to the message I realized four things:

1.) I had no idea who Mary was.

2.) I had no idea who Richard was.

3.) I had no idea what a STINT was!  And…

4.) I never liked Dorey anyway so…good riddance.

Then I felt a weird tingle go up my back. 

Who was this lady? Had I been an expert on stints all this time and just never knew it?  Was I at that moment being watched from across the street by a crazed stalker?

I called my Mom and had her listen to the message.  Maybe she could recognize the name or voice.  When it finished playing I said,

“Well?”

She said, “That is so, SO…CREEPY.”

I thanked her profusely for putting me at ease, then hung up, cried a little, and went to bed with a bat underneath the covers and all the lights on.

The next day, I felt I should probably call this lady and explain that she had the wrong guy.  Or, at least offer up all I knew about stints.   It was the least I could do.

When I called the number, Mary wasn't there.   She was with her husband Richard who was at the hospital.

"Probably a stint, is my conjecture."

The above conjectuer-er wasn't Dorey of course -because she's out of our lives for good, thank goodness, but instead - Jerry.

"Well, that's what Mary told ME it was too," I replied, manufactured concern dripping from my voice.  

"Well that must be it then," said Jerry.  “Stints.  Oh man - that ain’t never good.  Not...not good.”

"Yeah, well - I can’t say I’ve ever known a stint to be good,” I said, still not exactly sure what it was we were talking about.

"Yep," said Jerry, "That's probably it.  Stints.  Not...not good."

There was then a short pause as Jerry and I contemplated what this surgery might mean to poor ‘ole Richard, and the fact that I had NO idea who Jerry was.

And Jerry clearly had no idea who I was.  Which surprised me, considering the kind of relationship we both shared with Mary. Needless to say I was a little hurt.

I wondered why Mary had never mentioned me to Jerry.  Had Dorey somehow scared her into keeping quite about me?  Maybe Jerry was RICHARD’S friend, an old Army buddy, the one Mary never really liked.  Who later became one of Dorey’s renegade boyfriends and stayed in the basement after Dorey left, and now spends his days drinkin’ beer, playin’ Doobie Brothers records and eatin’ cold pizza.

Maybe Mary feared that Jerry was just hanging around, hoping something terrible would happen to Richard and the stints and then swoop in on Mary and have the whole estate to himself.  I hate to say it, but I wouldn’t put it past him.  Jerry’s always been like that.  Creep.

Anyway, I didn’t feel like I could get into the whole “I’m not who they think I am, and who the heck are you” thing with JERRY, of all people.  So, I left a message for Mary to call me, and Jerry promised to mention to Mary that I was very sorry to hear about the whole stint thing with Richard.  Because by THEN, I kinda WAS.  Especially after all Mary and Richard been through with Dorey and the unhelpful doctors and this Jerry guy just hangin’ around waitin’ for Richard to croak.  Creep.

When we hung up I immediately registered for a gun, and a bodyguard, and thought, “You know, Dorey’s probably the reason 'ole Richard had to get stints in the first place.  She was always so selfish.  And whiny.   Always expecting others to clean up her messes.  And those FRIENDS of hers, and stupid Jerry.  Don’t get me started.”

The next night the phone rang.  I picked it up.  It was Mary.

I had forgotten that ‘ole Mary had a way of beginning a conversation and then continuing it all on her own.  I really didn't need to be there.  It was like a radio show, with no callers.  All I said was, "Hi, Mary."  Then she took it from there, for almost 5 solid minutes.  She had a LOT to fill me in on too.  I tried to find an opening.  There wasn’t one.

She said Jerry had told her that I called, and she wanted to keep me up to date on the latest.

"Oh, great," I said.  Then looked out my window, scanning the buildings across the street for snipers.

Mary rattled on.  She told me how Richard was feeling after the operation, and about how frustrating it had been to get information from doctors, and how that they had to just practically MAKE them sit down and discuss Richard's options.

"Which WAS the stints.  But I'm not telling YOU anything.  I'm sure you know ALL about it!" she said.

"Yep, “ I said, “And I know getting information from doctors can sometimes be very frustrating.” 

“I’ll bet you do!” she said and laughed big. 

She had that crazy/cigarette smoker/wicked witch/sniper laugh that can chill you to the bone and make a middle-aged man sleep with a bat underneath the covers with all the lights on.

I tried to laugh too but could only muster a terrified whimper.

Then some dogs barked.

"Oh!  Those are our DOGS!" she screamed with delight.

"Oh, right," I said, trying not to cry. 

"We love 'em, you know," she said.

“I know,” I lied.

Just then, my dog barked.  Mary seemed both surprised and overly excited by this.

"Oh!  What was THAT?!" she said.

"Oh, that's MY dog." 

"Oh!!  YOU have a DOG?  I don’t believe it!  He sounds SO CUTE!  What kind is he?" she screeched.

Apparently after all these years, I had finally broke down and realized the joys of dog ownership - something Richard and Mary had been touting for some time. 

"Beagle-terrier.” I said.

"Really?  How long have you had HIM?"

"Oh, about 7 years."

There was a frosty pause.  Apparently Mary remembered things differently.  Since when had I started liking dogs?  This wasn’t the guy she knew.  Had I been lying to her all these years about liking dogs?  Maybe DOREY had gotten to me? 

"Oh, well that's…um…great," she said, clearly miffed, but not up to unraveling my secret, double life, dog obsession, lies right then.  After all, there were stints to discuss.  I was doomed.

Then the dogs barked again, creating another SLIGHTLY long-ish pause.  It was my first chance in 10 minutes.  I took it.

"So Mary," I began, "When was the last time we actually saw each other, would you say?"

"Oh, I guess it'd HAVE to be...what...5 years ago?"

I was glad she didn’t say "Oh, I guess around the time Dorey flipped out and killed all those puppies on TV." 

"About 5 years?" I said.

"Yeah, about that."

"And where was that, Mary?"

"Oh right here, in San Mateo.

Which is a town I have never been to.  I DID NOT KNOW THIS WOMAN .

I knew then it had to end - even if I was wrong and was going to hurt the feelings of a possible life-long, yet unremembered, family friend in the middle of a crisis, her husband languishing in the hospital, and me, their only hope for comfort and stint info.  I was about to ruin it all with the news I HAD to share.  Still, I pushed ahead.

"Mary, I have to be honest with you, I'm not sure we know each other."

Silence.

“Mary?”

“Yes?”

“You there?”

“Yes.”

Well, THIS was gonna be fun. 

I said, "Mary, I kept thinking the light was gonna go on, and I'd remember where we know each other from, but I just don't think we know each other."

"You mean...you may NOT be the Greg Lee I know?"

"I don't think so, Mary.  But just to be sure: what does the Greg Lee you know do for a living?"

"Well, he's a cardiologist at San Francisco University Hospital."

I had always fantasized about working in the medical field.  And for a moment, I must confess, as I sat there listening to Mary, I entertained the thought of actually becoming this renowned, easy-to-talk-to, brilliant, handsome, Korean cardiologist from San Francisco University Hospital. And it would only take a second - and there would be no bothersome biology quiz to worry about either.  I could do worse.  Heck, I HAVE done worse.  MUCH worse.

I was tempted.  Ten years ago I would have done it without a second thought.  But right when I thought I’d launch into my new persona, I thought of poor old Richard lyin’ alone in some cold, hospital bed, trying to eat apple sauce with all those stints stickin’ all out of his arm or whatever, while creepy Jerry sat back at his house waiting for him to die, as his wife was trying to get dog and medical advice from ME.  It was all too much. As bad as it was going to be to tell her the truth, I knew I had to come clean.

I said, "Mary, I have to tell you, if that’s the case, then I’m afraid you could not have picked a more WRONG Greg Lee."

"What?” she said.  “Well, I…I...what…ah…"

“I know nothing about stints.  Or hearts.  Or even first aid.  You wouldn’t want me anywhere near your husband.  Or your money.  Or your food for that matter.  These are just not my areas of expertise.”

Now MARY couldn't talk.  I charged in.

"I'm so sorry.  I wasn't trying to lead you on.  I just kept thinking that you might be an old family friend that I couldn’t place - so I kept waiting for the light to go on but it never did.

"Well, I…I just feel…I feel so bad having bothered you."

"Not at all, Mary.  I really thought I’d eventually figure out where I knew you from, but in the process, I have to say...I kinda started becoming concerned for Richard.”

Thankfully, she laughed.  I laughed.

" I was worried about him!  I mean, he seems like a nice guy, you know?”

She laughed again.

"Well, he IS a nice guy," she said.

"See, I thought so.  I ALWAYS knew that!"

Really WEIRD pause.

"Well,” she said, for once having no idea of how to proceed.

"Anyway, “ I said, “It's been nice talking to you Mary, and I'm sure glad Richard’s doing better.”

“Well, thank you, Greg.  Thanks a lot.  I am too.”

“And please tell Jerry thanks for letting you know I called."

“Who?”

“She’s GOT to be kiddin’,” I thought.

“Jerry.” I said.  “You know…Jerry?  The guy in your basement?”

“Oh, JERRY!  Right!   Yes, I will.  I’ll tell him.  Um...well.  Thank you, Greg."

Dogs barked.

"Not at all, Mary.  And the best to you and Richard.”

“OK.  Thank you.”

“And please don't hesitate to call again if you ever need any more made-up medical advice from a stranger."

She laughed.  I laughed.

"God bless ya, Mary.”

"You too, Greg.

We hung up.

It was then I realized things between me and Mary and Richard and Jerry would always be good.

Dorey, was another story.

Good riddance.

 As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE CHURCH ANTS (#7)

As together we stand and sing.


BP

THE CHURCH ANTS (#6)

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE CHURCH ANTS (#5)

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE CHURCH ANTS (#4)

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE CHURCH ANTS (#3)

THE CHURCH ANTS (#2)

As together we stand and sing.

BP

THE CHURCH ANTS (#1)

As together we stand and sing.

BP

DEVO DOODLES (#5)

"What has been will be again,  

What has been done will be done again;  

There is nothing new under the sun."

- PROVERBS 1:9

As together we stand and sing.

BP

EAT THE STRAWBERRY

There's an old story told about a Man walking through a field one day.

It was a gorgeous day.  Birds were singin, the Sun was shinin', and he was just walkin'.

"La, la, tee, la, tee, dah, la, la, tee, dah" thought the man.

Suddenly, the Man saw that on the other side of the field was a big, hungry, mean-looking Tiger headed in his direction.

So the Man, being a very wise man, turned and began to run in the opposite direction.

"AHHHHHHHHH!" said the Man as he ran.

Finally, the Man came to the edge of a huge cliff at the other end of the field.  As he looked behind him, he noticed that the Tiger was still in hot pursuit. 

The Birds were still singin' and the Sun was still shinin' too, but the Man didn't notice.  All he  saw was the Tiger.

Then the Man noticed that hangin' off the  side of the cliff was a huge bunch of dried grass.  

And the Birds were singin', and the Sun was shinin', and the Tiger kept comin' closer.

So being a very wise man, the Man grabbed a hold of the grass, jumped off the side of the cliff and just hung there in the air.

And as he hung there off the side of the cliff, holding onto the clump of dried grass, he looked up and saw the Tiger, who was now looking down at him, licking his chops.

And the Birds were singin', and the Sun was shinin', and the Tiger was lickin', and the Man was just hangin' there.

Then the Man noticed that the cliff wasn't as high up as he had first thought it was.  And so he began to look down for a safe place to land.  But as he looked down, he noticed that there was...another Tiger...looking up at him, licking his chops.

And the Sun was shinin', the Birds were singin', and the two Tigers were slurpin' and the Man was just hangin' there in the air.

Then the Man noticed, at the top of the clump of grass that he was holding onto, there was a little Black Mouse, and a little White Mouse, who were both slowly chewing away at either end the clump of grass.

And the Sun was shinin', and the Birds were singin', and the Tigers were slurpin' and the Mice were chompin', and the Man was just...hangin' there in the air.

And as he hung there off the side of the cliff, the Man noticed that coming out of the side of the cliff, right in front of him, was one, huge, shiny, juicy, red strawberry.

And the Sun was shinin', and the Birds were singin' and the Tigers were growlin' and the Mice were snackin', and the Man was hangin', and the strawberry was just there...just...right...THERE.

So being a very wise man, the Man reached out, plucked the strawberry, popped it in his mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed it down.

And then he said, "That was a pretty good strawberry."

The End.

"Preacher, that was weird." you say.

OK.  But watch this.  First the BAD news:


Whether we like it or not, every single one of us is the man hangin' off the side of the cliff. 

Sorry.  But it's true.

There are many different opinions out there in the world as to what happens AFTER  the Mice finish their lunch and the Tigers finish theirs.  There are many, long, detailed, fascinating discussions you can have with people as to what happens after that.

But the ONE thing most people will agree on is that there WILL come a time when the Mice and the Tigers WILL finish their "lunch".  For many people, this is a fact of life they'd rather not think too much about. 

Some would rather pretend that there are no Tigers, no Mice, and no cliff at all.  

And so they hang there off the side of the cliff, pretending not to notice the reality of the situation.  Some try to drink this fact away, others eat it away, some work it away, some read it away, some play it away.  Still others cleverly spend all their time day-dreaming it away, preferring to think of a "wonderful world to come" when everything will be perfect and as it should have been here, and in the process never really experience the world they are a part of now.

But whatever people do to try to escape it, it doesn't change the fact that there will come a day when this precious, one of a kind, moment we share, spent suspended in THIS air, off THIS cliff, will end.  

That's just how it works.

The GOOD news is:

As you hang there waiting for the Tigers and the Mice to finish their lunch...

You can eat the strawberry or not...it's totally up to you.

As together we stand and sing.


BP