While I was visiting her school, my granddaughter Chloe introduced me to a new boy in her class.
“Hi,” I said to the boy. “Where did you move from?”
“Up South,” he replied.
The secret of a good sermon is to have a good beginning and a good ending, and to have the two as close together as possible.
My cousin is a pastor in a rural church in Michigan. During one of her sermons, she was waxing poetic about the harvest season. Thinking she had used the word “harvest” one too many times, she said, “It is so thrilling to see the large concubines working in the fields.”
A silent pause ensued, and then a roar of laughter erupted in the church.
She looked at the choir director seated to her left for an explanation.
“Wrong word,” he said, laughing. “It’s supposed to be combines.”
It didn’t end there.
At coffee hour after the service, a 93-year-old parishioner said to her, “I sure would like to see those large concubines!”
No matter how much you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationery.
—H. De Boer
I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island. But it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.
While visiting an elderly woman in his congregation, the pastor advised her that she should be thinking more and more about the hereafter.
“Oh, but I already do,” she replied. “I walk into a room and I say to myself, ‘What am I here after?’”
Sign on a fence:
“Salespeople welcome. Dog food is expensive.”
Standing in line for fast food, my son asked his 7-year-old daughter what she wanted to drink. “I’ll have a hic, please.” Not understanding, he asked again. She still wanted a hic. The person at the counter said, “I can help with that. It happens all the time. She wants a Hi-C.”
Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other, “You stay here. I’ll go on a head.”