Writings
After listing the title for this sermon in Steeple Notes, I discovered I had preached the same text under the same title in the late nineties. On that occasion, I took an entirely different bent, slanting the sermon toward a discussion of exorcism. Truth be told, there are but a handful of lines from that prior effort recycled in this text.
One of my better friends in the ministry is an African-American colleague (about my age) who once served a congregation that took pride in being as social as it was spiritual. In other words, they knew how to pray. But they also knew how to party. And they invited my friend (their pastor) to many of their parties. But while they expected him to show, they didn’t expect him to stay. Nor did they want him to stay.
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, my nephew (or to be genealogically precise, the man who married my wife’s niece) was the 60th person in line at Wal-Mart at 5:15 in the morning. Unlike some men who wait until 5:15 on Christmas Eve, John wanted to get in early and get out cheap.
While waiting for a first appointment in the reception room of a new physician, I noticed the framed certificate which bore his full name. Convinced that I had heard it before, I racked my brain until I remembered that a tall, gawky kid with a similar-sounding name had been in my high school class, some 45 years ago. But upon being ushered into his office, I knew….just knew….I was wrong.
