My daughter and her husband took their four kids to see the Vermont Lake Monsters play baseball. In the car on the way home, 6-year-old Will asked, “Hey Dad, how many crucified flies do you think there were tonight?”
Dad was about to get on his case for speaking inappropriately (there had been some discussion about bug torture by the boys recently).
But Mom, having figured out that Will was actually talking about the baseball game, said, “Um, Will, those are called sacrifice flies . . . ”
It was baseball with a gospel twist!
The minister was preoccupied with thoughts of how he was going to ask the congregation to give more than they were expecting for repairs on the church building. So he was annoyed to find that the regular organist was sick and a substitute had been brought in at the last minute. The substitute wanted to know what to play.
“Here’s a copy of the service,” the minister said impatiently. “But you’ll have to think of something to play after I make the announcement about the finances.”
During the service, the minister paused and said, “Brothers and sisters, we are in great difficulty. The roof repairs cost twice as much as we expected, and we need $4,000 more. Any of you who can pledge $100 or more, please stand up.”
Before anyone had time to think, the substitute organist launched into “O Canada.”
And that is how the substitute became the regular organist.
Then there was the predestinarian who fell down the stairs and walked away muttering, “Well! Thank goodness that’s over!”
The children in our church generally leave for Sunday school 15 to 20 minutes into the service. At the beginning of the service our daughter Melissa, who was 3-and-a-half at the time, asked me, “Mom, when is Sunday school?”
“Not yet,” I whispered.
Five minutes later she whispered again, “Mom, when is Sunday school?”
“After the Lord’s Supper,” I told her.
She looked up at me, deep in thought, and asked, “Is he having supper right now?”