For years in the pulpit
his hope was that he
would give those who
sat in the pews some-
thing sufficiently,
spiritually tasty and
nutritious to last
them longer than the
coffee hour following
worship. Sometimes
he prepared and deliver-
ed a four-course meal
for chewing upon and
digesting at
least through Thursday.
But sometimes the
really spicy Spirit
crept into the ingred-
ients in spite of the
cook and gave the
folks indigestion
before the twenty-
minute delivery was
done. He knew he
would get no dessert
that day at the door
when he shook their
hands. He saw the
stares from those who
dished out the
lemon meringue pie
at coffee hour. When
he got home he told
his wife that they were
on the menu for Sunday
dinner. His parishioners
would be chewing on
Pastor Tartare and his
lovely wife Pasta Al
Dente and their delightful
teenaged, if a bit ram-
bunctious, twin daughters
Sautéed Shrimp.
The pastor’s stomach
started to churn and he
made a beeline for the
bathroom while his wife
reached for the Tums.
Bob, I thought the point of sermons was to make people think and learn something….I suspect spicy sermons brought forth people’s weakness and hypocrisy and smacked them upside the head and heart! Good for you! Peace, Alan
been there…….once a man using a hearing device jerked the wire out of the plug in the middle of a fine sermon on love and integration.