A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to Church
Steve W. Reeves
Some
of the funniest stories I have ever heard have to do with church. Having been a
preacher for almost forty years I have witnessed some hilarious incidents. Here
is a short selection of humorous things I have seen and heard.
THE
DAY A SQUIRREL WENT TO CHURCH
You
have probably heard the Ray Stevens song about the squirrel that “went bezerk
in the First Self-righteous Church, in that sleepy little town of Pascagoula.”
Well, my story is not quite so dramatic but I came close to witnessing a
similar experience when I preached in Newport, Arkansas. One Sunday morning as
I was preaching I suddenly noticed a brown squirrel running down the side aisle
of the auditorium. Instead of running down the pew where sat sister “Bertha
Better than You,” this little squirrel ran up on the stage and behind the
pulpit where it seemingly disappeared and was never seen or heard from again. I
later learned that it was not the first time something like this had happened.
Once, while famed evangelist Jimmy Allen was preaching one of his “hell fire
and brimstone” sermons a squirrel appeared on the ledge of the baptistry above
and behind the pulpit. It apparently sat there for some time looking at the
audience and listening to the sermon. Children were pointing fingers. Adults
were snickering and Allen was furious that people were not taking his sermon
seriously. It was only after the message concluded that he learned of the
squirrel. I never determined whether or not the critter responded to the
invitation.
On a
related note, one Sunday morning at the same church the nursery workers were startled
to find an opossum sleeping in one of the baby beds. I kept wating to hear
whether or not any of them confused it with a sleeping child but I didn’t dare
ask anyone!
AN
UNEXPECTED GUEST AT CHURCH
I was
preaching on a Sunday night from Hebrews 13:2, “Do not neglect to show
hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without
knowing it.” I had just quoted this passage when suddenly, as if on que, the
back door of the auditorium opened and a young man dressed in a “spandex”
exercise suit appeared and walked all the way down the aisle. In today’s
climate of violence such an occurrence would be unsettling to say the least. On
this occasion people were surprised bur not overly alarmed. The young man
walked up on the rostrum and reached out to shake my hand. I shook his hand and
said, “Hey man, how ya’ doing?” He nodded affirmatively and without saying a
word turned, walked back down the aisle and out the back door into the night. I
stopped preaching momentarily and asked, “Does anyone know who that guy was?”
To this day I’m sure some of the people who were in that audience suspect that
I pre-arranged the visit from our surprise guest. This was not the case. I
later learned that the young man had been doing this at other churches in town.
I heard that he had some type of mental problem but never did learn what
happened to him.
ARE
YOU A PREACHER?
This
story is not humorous but it has always intrigued me. When our children were
young we would occasionally take them to a nearby town that had a beautiful
park along the banks of the White river. The park had a wonderful playground
for the children and nice picnic facilities. One evening, at dusk, the children
were playing under the supervision of my wife as I put hot dogs on a grill. I
noticed a young man, I guessed to be in his early twenties, walking back and
forth along the river bank. He kept looking at me and edging closer and closer.
Finally, as if he had summoned up enough courage, he said, “Excuse me, sir. You
wouldn’t happen to be a preacher would you?” I knew he could not have surmised
this from my dress. I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. I replied, “As a matter
of fact, I am. Can I help you with something?” He replied, “I just wonder what
you would tell a man who was getting ready to kill himself?” I motioned to my
wife to come tend the hot dogs on the grill and took the young man to a nearby
bench where I asked him to tell me his story. He was an Gulf-war veteran who
had returned home without a job. Upon his return he learned that his girlfriend
had gone off with someone else. He had no family and no home. He was living
under a bridge and was hungry, tired, lonely and depressed. We talked for a
long time, shared our supper with him and I gave him information on some people
and agencies nearby who could help him secure a place to live and receive some
emotional and spiritual help. He assured me he was not going to do anything
rash and theb walked off into the darkness. Was it merely a coincidence that I
was there that night?
FROM
THE MOUTHS OF BABES
One
Easter Sunday I was relating the story of the crucifixion of Christ. In
dramatic fashion I was attempting to capture the scene of the crowd as Pilate
offered to free Jesus or Barabbas. I mentioned how the Jewish leaders stirred
up the crowd who began to cry out, “Barabbas! Barabbas! Give us Barabbas!” I
paused a moment for effect. Suddenly, from the audience there came a small child’s
voice, “A rabbit! A rabbit! Give us a rabbit!” Everyone roared with laughter,
including me.
At the
same church I was seated on the rostrum before the sermon as the song leader directed
the congregation in singing, “Hallelujah, Thine the Glory!” I noticed how
several rows of people near the back were grinning. Some were snickering and a
few were laughing outright. It was only after the service that I got the scoop on
what had happened. As we sang the chorus, “Hallelujah, Thine the Glory,” little
three year old Loghan was singing at the top of her voice, “Hallelujah, hide
the jewelry!” Over twenty five years later Tami and I still look at one another
and grin when we sing that wonderful song.
George
Goldtrap, a former preacher and TV weatherman in Nashville, Tennessee, tells
the story of a little boy who went by the preacher on his way out of church.
“Look, brother George, I’ve mashed my ‘darn’ finger.” George said he replied,
“Johnny, “darn’is not a good word for a little boy. I’ll give you fifty cents
if you promise me you won’t say it anymore.” The boy took the money. The next
Sunday he excitedly announced, “Brother George! Brother George! I’ve got a word
now that’s worth a dollar!”
Little
Sally brought home her report card consisting of three D’s and one F. Her
father took one look at it and demanded, “Young lady, how do you explain these
grades?” She said, “Well one thing about it pops. You know I’m not cheating!”
A
little boy was inquisitive about church. He wanted to know what everything meant.
When they bowed their heads he asked, “What does this mean?” His mother
replied, “It means we’re going to pray.” When they picked up their song books
he asked, “What does this mean?” She replied, “It means we’re going to sing.”
When the preacher stood up to speak he asked, “What does this mean?” She said,
“Brother Steve is going to preach.” When the preacher looked at his watch the
little tike asked, “What does that mean?” His mother replied, “Absolutely
nothing!”
Some
of the sweetest gifts I have received have been the hand drawn and colored pictures
made by children in Sunday school. I’ve received dozens of these through the
years but never one as meaningful as little Angel gave me many years ago in a
small, rural Arkansas church. It had been carefully folded into a booklet.
Every page was meticulously crafted and colored. The book was entitled, “Things
I Like About Going to Church.” Each page had a different thing she liked. “I
like to sing songs.” “I like to read the Bible.” “I like to hear the preacher
preach.” The last page requires some explanation. Several weeks earlier I had told a story about an old bum who knocked
on a lady’s door looking for a handout. She told him to get lost or she would
call her husband to run him off. I told how the bum replied with something that
startled the woman and made her change her life. I then announced I would tell
everyone next week what the bum said. By the way, the bum said, “I know your
husband isn’t home because no one could stand to live in the same house with
someone as mean as you.” Preachers often
tell stories like that and they go in one ear and out the other. Little Angel
remembered, however, and on the last page of the little book she wrote, “I like
to hear what the bum said.” Several
years later I baptized that young lady and several years after that I performed
her wedding ceremony.
THE
NIGHT THE LIGHTS WENT OUT
We
take lighting and electricity for granted. I have had several occasions when
the power went out while I was preaching. Fortunately, I knew my notes well
enough that I was able to continue on in the dark.
One
night I was preaching in the country of Guyana. The little church was no bigger
than a utility shed in someone’s back yard. There were people standing
everywhere inside and out. Small children sat at the front. The only source of
light came from a small bulb the reminded me of a dome light in a car. It was
attached to a battery. As I was preaching the children began pointing at me. I
looked down on my shirt and saw the biggest, ugliest blue, black and red bug
with pinchers crawling up my sleeve. Some folks would have accused me of being
Pentecostal given the wild gyrations I exhibited to get that big ugly bug off
of me. On another night the lights went completely out. We finished the service
by the light of a kerosene lantern.
Perhaps
my most bizarre experience with lights occurred just a few years ago. A partial
power outage caused the electronic control to our auditorium lights to go nuts.
It started turning lights on and off. A New York disco never had a better light
show than the one we had that morning. I just kept on preaching. Do you suppose
the people felt “enlightened?”
ANONYMOUS
NOTES
Through
the years I’ve received several anonymous letters. None of them were complimentary.
Each time I have received one I was reminded of the preacher who kept getting
anonymous notes that were very ugly. One morning he found a piece of paper
under his door. The only thing it said was, “FOOL.” That was enough! He
announced from the pulpit that morning, “For months I’ve been getting ugly notes
from someone who refused to sign their name. This morning they signed their
name but forgot to write the note!”
THE
PREACHER SEZ
An old
preacher was known for his knowledge of the Bible. Many Sundays he would simply
let his Bible fall open to a passage and preach extemporaneously from that
text. Some young boys caught on to what he was doing so they glued two pages
together. The old man got up to preach and opened to that page. He began to
read, “And Noah took unto himself a wife and she was . . . three hundred cubits
long and fifty cubits wide.” He stopped and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever read
this passage before but it sounds to me like this must be the introduction of
dietary laws in the Bible.”
One
man in the beginning of my preaching years said, “Have you been preaching
long?” When I replied, “no sir,” he simply said, “I didn’t think so” and walked
off. Another man walked behind me one Sunday morning and raised up my coat. I
turned and said, “What are you doing?” He said, “I’m looking for the volume
control and the timer.”
A
drunk wondered into a church building one night while the preacher was
preaching. “How long has he been preaching?” he asked the usher. “I believe
about twenty years,” the usher replied. “Well, I think I’ll stay. He ought to
be wrapping it up soon,” the drunk said.
One
man told the preacher, “Seems to me you can preach without even thinking.”
Another
preacher was asked to substitute for a well-known speaker who had taken ill. He
began with an apology. “I know you have come expecting to hear brother so and
so. I must say that I feel like a piece of cardboard that has been put in a
window in place of a broken pane of glass.” After the service a little old lady
came up and said, “Brother, don’t worry about it. You’re every bit as much of a
pane as he is.”
AND SO
IT GOES
I have
spent my life as a preacher. I don’t plan to stop anytime soon. I have been blessed
to work with some fine churches composed of wonderful people. I had a dear
friend named Paul Rogers who used to say, “It’s great to be a preacher!” I
agree. I have been treated far better than I have deserved and been blessed far
beyond my wildest expectations! It is indeed, “great to be a preacher!”
