December 11, 2014 (Thursday)
I begin today by quoting an anonymous story I recently read: “Jack was in front of me coming out of church one day, and the preacher was standing at the door as he always is to shake hands. The preacher grabbed Jack by the hand and pulled him aside. The Pastor said to him, ‘You need to join the Army of the Lord!’ Jack replied, ‘I’m already in the Army of the Lord, Pastor.’ Pastor questioned, ‘How come I don’t see you except at Christmas and Easter?’ He whispered back, ‘I’m in the secret service.’ ”
Maybe you prefer a real, true-to-life story from my experience. Okay, here goes. A man came up to me as I stood by the door at the end of a worship service. As he shook my hand, he said, “You know me, I’m sure.” “Sorry,” I said, can you give me a hint? His face fell, and his pleasant countenance became angry. “I go to your church!” he almost yelled. “I go every Easter!” True story.
Some pastors would have known the man’s name and would have been able to use it. Alas, my memory banks have been robbed.
Now that I am old, I still have a pretty good memory sometimes, but often it fails me by withholding words, names, etc. It’s always embarrassing, but I have learned to live with it. My brain has a sadistic sense of humor, holding back words at the proper times, then revealing them later when there’s no one to hear.
There he is.
He still looks the same.
Give me a minute
And I’ll tell you his name.
It’s Henry..no that will not do.
It’s Horace..no, that’s wrong too.
It’s Harold..no, that’s just not right.
Oh, look, he has me in sight.
Here he comes.
Oh, what is his name?
I know it, I know it..
And then he came.
“I’m Hadley,” he says,
“What is your name?”
Well, Hadley, old man,
It’s good that you came.
If you’ll give me a minute
I’ll tell you my name.