There once lived a couple (a man and his wife) in a small house in the city. One day the man noticed that a tree, a sapling really, was starting to grow through the living room floor. He thought about mentioning it to his wife. But he didn’t, lest he appear foolish. For who had ever heard of a tree growing through the living room floor? His wife noticed the tree also, but didn’t say anything either. With each passing day, the tree grew larger. It grew taller and its trunk, thicker. Pretty soon it was no longer a sapling, but a sturdy young tree. The man and his wife watched the tree grow. But they never mentioned it, for who had ever heard of a tree growing through the living room floor?

William Shakespeare suggested that sermons could be found in stones. And Annie Dillard once wrote an entire book under the title, Teaching a Stone to Talk. Both ideas are figures of speech. Stones do not talk. Neither do they preach. You may hold opinions to the contrary. But in this season where the spirit of charity is supposed to overwhelm us, I trust that you will keep them to yourself.

There are endless variations on the old story about the revival preacher, out making his rounds, who happened upon a farmer abusing his mule with a shovel. Apparently, the mule wouldn’t go….or wouldn’t go right. So the farmer got out of the wagon, grabbed his spade, and gave the mule a couple of blows upside the head. Leading the preacher to admonish the farmer (albeit in tones slathered in the syrup of humble piety) that the mule was one of God’s creatures, too….and that he would surely proceed as directed, if addressed with words befitting a Christian. To which the farmer replied:  “Well preacher, that’s what I’m afixin’ to do….once I get his attention.”