I remember the time I came to the platform to officiate in a formal wedding. I had just come out of the bathroom and didn't realize until I was in front of all those people that stuck to my shoe and trailing behind was an eight-foot stream of toilet paper
I remember the time I looked down in the middle of my sermon and saw my pants were unzipped--and my shirt tail was sticking out like a flag.
I remember the time I put my hand on a casket at the front of the church and the flimsy stand it was sitting on gave way.
Then I remember that Easter morning baptismal service 25 years ago. The baptistery was high above the choir loft. My plan was to baptize at the beginning of the service then rush to the platform during the hymn so I could preach. That morning I wore my new waders--huge rubber boots which came up to my chest, held in place by suspenders. The last person I baptized was a portly woman. When I lowered her beneath the surface she displaced far more water than I anticipated. The overflow rushed into my waders--filling them to the brim. When the woman came up, the water went down--leaving me standing in 400 pounds of water-filled boots. I was rooted to the bottom of the baptistery and couldn't move. I finally had to lower my suspenders and crawl out of the boots in front of the entire Easter congregation--in my underwear!
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