While on vacation from Alberta, visiting my mother at Raybrook Manor in Grand Rapids, Mich., my sister and I went with Mom to a Sunday-evening worship service at the chapel. The preacher was The Banner’s own Jacob Eppinga, and we were treated to a finely crafted and engagingly delivered sermon on what heaven will be like. Afterward, I was moved to say, “I don’t think I’ll be preaching that well when I’m in my late 80s.”
To which my sister responded, “I don’t think you’re preaching that well now!”
—Pastor Fred Bultman
On the last day of school, the children brought gifts for their teacher. The florist’s son brought the teacher a bouquet of flowers. The candy-store owner’s daughter gave the teacher a pretty box of candy. The liquor-store owner’s son brought a big, heavy box. The teacher lifted it up and noticed that it was leaking a bit. She touched a drop of the liquid with her finger and tasted it.
“Is it wine?” she guessed.
“No,” the boy replied.
She tasted another drop and asked, “Champagne?”
“No,” said the little boy. “It’s a puppy!”
—George Vander Weit
A little boy asked his grand-father if he could make a noise like a frog. “I suppose I could,” Grandpa said, “but why would
you want me to do that?” The
boy replied, “Daddy says that when you croak we’re going to Disneyland.”
—Ray De Vries
Our granddaughter was very young when she got in
the car after church and asked, “Does anybody else notice that the preacher talks an awful lot about God?”
Later when she was with us a guest minister in our church remarked that older married women worry about losing their husbands—who will do the taxes and take care of the car? On the way home she remarked, “Grandma already does the taxes and takes care of her car.” Then with a big sigh she added, “It’s as if she’s lost him already.”
My young grandson Jake, age 8 at the time, was sitting with me in church. It was Communion Sunday, and when the elements were passed he wondered when he could participate. I told him he had to know he loved Jesus and would try to live like him. He said, “When I call Ben names, I feel bad in my heart, and I tell him I’m sorry.” I said, “That’s a start.” He thought a minute then said, “Grandma, I think I’ll wait till I’m 10.” Guess he wants to call his brother names a little longer.
One Sunday morning we were having breakfast as a family. Our church service had been canceled due to a blizzard, and we were talking about having our own service at home. The kids were trying to decide who should give the message. They decided that Dad should because most ministers are men. Our 5-year-old stated, “I think men like to be ministers so they only have to work one day a week!”
—Duane and Lori Hinken
I had recently begun my ministry at Lebanon (Iowa) Christian Reformed Church. There were five or six tall stumps on the property line between the church and the Christian school.
One evening at dinner part of the conversation went like this:
Five-year-old David: “Daddy, what are those big posts by the school?”
“Those are stumps, Dave.”
“What’s stump, Daddy?”
“A stump is what’s left after
you cut down a tree. Sometimes they’re tall, mostly they’re short.”
“Who cut down those trees, Daddy?”
“The school board, I guess.”
David was silent. I assumed the conversation had ended until he brought the house down with his next question: “Daddy, was that board sharp?”
Around our table we often sing a prayer before we eat. Recently our children have been taking the initiative to pray in some unique ways. Our 2-and-a-half-year-old son was eager to begin eating, and I told him we needed to pray to God first. Immediately he sang with gusto, “God keep our land, glorious and free, O Canada we stand on guard for thee!” A few days later I gave our 4-year-old daughter a snack of crackers and cheese, and she looked up to heaven and called out, just like Jesus would have at the feeding of the 5,000: “Blessed art Thou, King of the Universe, who brings forth bread from the earth!”