A young preacher was conducting his first funeral service. While delivering the eulogy, he pointed to the body in the casket and said, “What we have here is only a shell. The nut is already gone.”
President George W. Bush died and went to heaven and found it a wonderful place. The people were friendly, the food was great, and the gold streets were magnificent. But to the president’s consternation, there was one man who simply wouldn’t speak to him.
After a time, the president decided to fix the relational problem. He went over to the man and said, “Sir, my name is George Bush, and I hope I haven’t done something to offend you. I know I’m a Republican, but political differences shouldn’t matter here.”
“No, that isn’t the problem,” the man said. “My name is Moses, and the last time I talked to a Bush it cost me 40 years in the wilderness.”
A Sunday school teacher was telling her class the story of the Good Samaritan, in which a man gets beaten, robbed, and left for dead. She described the situation in vivid detail so her students would appreciate the drama.
She asked the class, “If you saw a person lying on the roadside, brutally wounded and bleeding, what would you do?”
A thoughtful little girl broke the hushed silence. “I think I’d throw up.”
—Marcia Van’t Land
Little Tommy was walking down the street with a long, sad face. Art asked him what was wrong. Tommy replied, “My dog died.” Art said, “Well, he went to heaven.” Tommy asked, “What’s God gonna do with a dead dog?”
A CRC member, planning a trip to the Holy Land, was aghast when he found it would cost $50 an hour to rent a boat on the Sea of Galilee. “Back home that wouldn’t have been more than $20,” he complained.
“That might be true,” said the travel agent, “but you have to take into account that this is water on which our Lord himself walked.”
“Well, at $50 an hour for a boat,” said the man, “it’s no wonder he walked!”
—Gene Potoka (adapted from Mikey’s Funnies)
During my December visit with my son’s family, an after-dinner discussion about various details of the Christmas story ensued. I asked 6-year-old Madeleine whether Joseph or God was Jesus’ real father. Thinking intently for a moment, Madeliene replied, “God is Jesus’ real father . . . but I think Mary did most of the work”!
A visitor to a church that was quite formal in its style of worship was very interested in the service. He noticed that the congregation was quite quiet during this time. However, as the pastor launched into the sermon, the visitor became so moved by the message he could not resist calling out, “Praise the Lord!”
One of the ushers came up to him and kindly but rather firmly said, “We don’t do that here.”
—Kenneth R. Slager
One Sunday morning in February, my husband was called to assist with a difficult calving at a neighbor’s farm, so the kids and I went to church without him. Since my husband is the usual peppermint provider for our kids during the worship service, I was quite pleased with myself for remembering to bring along some candy—in this case Valentine hearts with little sayings printed on them. I was so pleased I decided to give each of the kids one candy just before the service started. The two boys quickly read their hearts, then each other’s. In unison they turned to me, glaring. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” the eldest accused. Wondering, I read their candies. “BE GOOD,” warned the first, while the second one echoed, “YOU TOO.”
My grandfather told me of a conversation between his stepfather and him when the former found out his stepson was soon to be married. My great-grandfather, a thrifty man, observed, “So, you’re going to get married?”
“I suppose I should give you a wedding present.”
“I suppose so.”
“Well, you know that load of manure you owe me for?”
“We’ll call it square.”