Summary: We all need to live each day fully for Him.
LETTER FROM A PASTOR To My Dear Friend, Pastor Phil Blowhorn,
I sure hope attendance at your church was better than my church. Mercy, pastoring ain’t always easy, now is it? We had us a bunch of sick folk, and them added to all the shut- ins made for a whole lot uh’ pew cushion to look at from the pulpit. I got to admit, I was feeling’ somewhat put out, but I went ahead and preached anyhow. Only thing was, with all them people missing’, the echo in the church gave me a hoot of a headache. My wife said I needed to get out and ride a bit ’cause the fresh air would make me feel better. Well, she took to driving’ and I took to riding and sure ’enough, she was right. Not only did my head clear up, but what I saw renewed my faith in the Good Lord. I tell you, Brother, I seen miracle after miracle!
My Sunday School superintendent, Hank Weaselbaum had called to tell me that he was so deathly sick; he wouldn’t make it to church. But there he was, driving’ down the road with his favorite fishing’ pole sticking’ out the window. I tell you, only a miracle could have snatched him out of the jaws of death that way! Then there was my head deacon, Wilbur Snooch. He had done left a message on my answering machine that his back was so jerked out of line that he thought he might have to have surgery. But I want you to know that when we drove past the golf course, there he was, hitting’ golf balls on the driving’ range. Hallelujah, our prayers worked! Edna Brump sent word with her sister that she wouldn’t make it ’cause her stomach was all upset and she didn’t want to take a chance on having’ a mishap in the church. But glory! There she was, standing’ in line at the Feeding’ Trough Smorgasbord. Another healing’! All told, we saw that 20 of our sick folk had taken’ a turn for the better and were up and about. Not only that, but I just couldn’t help from rejoicing’ over all our shut-ins that got themselves healed too. There was Sam Burply, who don’t attend church much causing’ of him being allergic to crowds, and he was in line to buy a ticket at the ball park.
Margaret Guffhunker, who’s been feeling’ all poor and sickly that she’s done missed the last eight Sundays, she was coming’ out of the mall with both arms full of packages. And then there was Horace Dweedle, who ain’t been to church in six months cause of his bum knee; he was playing’ basketball down at the park.
Seeing’ all these mighty miracles and healings got me so worked up, I started singing’ the Doxology! Yes, sir, Brother Blowhorn, I’m excited! I just know we’ll be having’ us a packed house next Sunday, what with all the sick and shut-ins revived by such a touch from Heaven. I look forward to giving’ you right nice report.
Your good friend, Pastor William Robert
Seven Steps to Forgiving Yourself
Take a moment to imagine the worst thing you’ve ever done in your life. When was it? Did you do something you’ll never forget and always regret? Does the incident still cause your face to flush or stomach to churn?