Yuks from Yakima: Hand It Over!

Note: This is the fourth of a four-part series of true, church-related humor. These are true, unembellished stories that occurred while we were pastoring the Yakima, Washington Wesleyan Church.

Brother Curt Heath moved dirt - the old fashioned way with a team of horses and a scraper...sometimes called a fresno. It took a good man to drive the team and hold the scraper in the dirt, and when full, it went to a dirt pile or a low spot to be leveled, tripped and dumped. As I say, it took a good, strong man to operate a fresno day in and day out.

Brother Heath's business was to move dirt, even such big jobs as digging excavations for basements which required many days of backbreaking labor. Smaller jobs were used to fill in (pun intended) for the smaller, less lucrative ones.

Brother Curt got saved! really saved! and when he did - as is usual - he started to read the Bible. Buying a New Testament for a dollar, he learned to read from its pages during his lunch time. It was a struggle, but without any formal education, God helped him to learn to read from his New Testament. His face would shine as he would tell this story during church testimony times!

On a certain day, after sweating and toiling by both man and beasts, he was pleasantly contemplating what would be for dinner that evening when a neighbor man saw him and hollered at him. Stopping the team and waiting for the neighbor to come over, they exchanged pleasantries and then he asked Curt of he would have time to move a small mound of dirt sometime, and pointed in its direction.

"No time like the present," he said, and in an hour or so had it level and smooth. "How about $2.75?" That seemed about right for both men, and soon Curt was home, had the team fed and put way, and then a hot bath.

At the dinner table his wife, Carey asked him, "Curt, did you have any extra work today?"

When he remembered the small job for the neighbor, he told her that he had.

"How much did you make?", she asked.

He questionedly replied that it was two dollars and seventy-five cents.

"Hand it over" she said. "It's mine."

And he did...when he heard her story.

With him having a New Testament, she began to pray and ask God for a Bible that she saw in a downtown store window. The price was more than she had...$2.75! Exactly what was extra that day!

There are so many touching aspects to this true story. One is how God answers prayer...often to the penny. Another is how many Bibles most of us have. Another is the hunger that new converts (and those who truly love God) have for the Word. Another is how willing Brother Heath was to surrender his hard-earned money when he saw that God was in it.

More next week!

Yuks from Yakima: Preacher Retires at 32

Note: This is the third of a four-part series of true, church-related humor. These are true, unembellished stories that occurred while we were pastoring the Yakima, Washington Wesleyan Church.

Emory attended our church a while before starting one of his own. He was what the former pastor would call "a jack-leg preacher". (I do not know what the term means either, but you can ask Brother E. E. Meeks, and I do not think it was too positive!) He found it hard to take instructions, or even suggestions, from his pastor or anyone else. He thought his way was best (as this story will prove).

About the time I landed in Yakima, the Saturday evening church page informed us that Reverend Hemphill was "retiring" and heading back to Indiana. Quite unusual for a preacher in his thirties.

Pastor Ed Meeks tells of one of Emory's moving experiences (if not this one, another). Ed and his older brother, Bob, was helping Emory load his family's good on a top carrier, supported only by four, narrow, corded strips hooked to the car's roof channels.

Repeatedly one or both brothers warned Emory "that maybe he had on enough." His self-confident reply was that it would take a lot more, and kept stacking household goods higher and higher.

When he had 3 and a half to four feet of stuff on the carrier, he carefully tarped and lashed it with ropes, and then said, "Hop in boys, and let's try her out!".Warily Ed and Bob crawled in.

Emory headed down Third Avenue towards downtown cautiously increasing speed. All seemed to be well, so he bumped it up to faster speeds gaining confidence right along.

By that time they were nearly in the very center of downtown Yakima, and both boys allowed themselves to relax a bit. As they approached First and Yakima Avenues (the exact center of downtown Yakima), and without warning Emory says, "Let's see how she holds in a stop", and slams on the brakes. Those light straps snapped like string, and all that top carrier load slip off the roof, off from the hood, and all over the busiest intersection of Yakima!

It was one of those times when you could wish yourself invisible, but there was nothing to do but help this foolish preacher pick up all of his "stuff" and stuff it somewhere in the car.

I do not know what happened to Emory, but I hope he stayed "retired"!

Yuks from Yakima: Bathroom Brouhaha

Note: This is the second of a four-part series of true, church-related humor. These are true, unembellished stories that occurred while we were pastoring the Yakima, Washington Wesleyan Church.

It was Sunday morning and the service was just beginning with hearty singing and a good spirit.

Emmett Cameron was just introducing the third hymn when Grandma Harmon quietly slipped out of her usual pew and headed for the back of the church.

We all knew what that meant since the only two avenues to the restrooms were either through a door off from the platform, or out the front doors and around to the side for an outside entrance. Few traipsed across the platform in full view of everyone unless the weather outside was really raw.

Between verses of the song I could hear a hammering and a pounding coming through the closed platform door. I correctly guessed that only Brother Cameron and I could hear the racket (and I was not sure about him), so - after catching his eye - I arose and quietly went through the door.

From that point, Emmett, our excellent song leader, was on his own, and got the workout of his life - somewhat of a mix of an unscheduled concert and a marathon. He chose, and led, song after song while I worked to rescue Grandma Harmon from the ladies restroom.

Some of you have seen those old door with two little brass buttons just below the lock. Grandma saw them, and - of course - pushed one - the one that locked the door.

So here we were, pastor and Grandma Harmon, trying to communicate through the locked door while the congregation sallied forth with copious praises in song. She tried every suggestion I gave her, but only became more and more frustrated.

I finally told her that we would have to removed the door from its hinges, but that I would have to go over to the parsonage and get some tools and a ladder, and pass them through the outside window to her. Obviously, this all took some time, and the small window was the kind that remained just partially open to keep it from breaking or hurting someone. She just could not get the hang of how to take the window out, even with my instructions, so here I was, suited preacher on a step ladder, looking in to the ladies restroom and holding conversation with someone there.

After getting a hammer and screwdriver to her from a half opened window, it was then a matter of giving her much encouragement on how to get the pins from the two hinges lavished with a few coats of paint! She would say that she couldn't do it, and I would say that she could... and all the while Emmett was bravely carrying on in the sanctuary with a couple of dozen songs... to the accompaniment of muted voices from the bathroom, mingled with hammer and screwdriver sounds.

Finally...success! and I re-entered the platform door to the eminent relief of Emmett, and, sure enough, after a bit Grandma came in the back door, sat down, and we both acted like it was something we did each service!

Yuks from Yakima: Lost in the Outhouse

Note: This is the first of a four-part series of true, church-related humor. These are true, unembellished stories that occurred while we were pastoring the Yakima, Washington Wesleyan Church.

It was time to make a pastoral call on two of "the colorful" in our congregation - Bernath and Malcom - (that is how they insisted we address them), who were retired, maiden-lady schoolteachers. To describe their frugal lifestyle as "tighter than the bark on a tree" would probably be an understatement. This true story will persuade you, I think.

I saw one of their cars in the driveway, but could not rouse anyone in the house, so I went around to the back where you could generally find them in the garden or flowers calling, "Bernath! Malcom! Anyone home?" Way off in the distance (I thought) I heard a muffled voice saying, "Over here! Help me! I can't get out!"

When I determined the source of the voice, it was coming from an old outhouse at the very back of the garden. As I approached, identifying myself, Malcolm (by then I knew which woman it was) kept yelling, "I need help. I can't get out by myself".

How would you feel and act in such a dilemma? A suited preacher going to an outhouse to rescue a very vocal damsel in distress?

The door was standing open, and as I came in view of the inside, all I could see was the top of Malcom's head sticking up from where the seat boards had been, and her blouse carefully laid on the ripped up boards.

"Well", she said, "Come and pull me out." Just like we did this every day before breakfast. "I'm just in my bra," she said. "I didn't want to get my blouse dirty. Here, take this screwdriver", she said triumphantly. "I lost the fiddling thing down the hole, and wasn't about to leave it there".

After pulling her out, and telling her that I would come back when Bernath was there too, I expeditously left, not offering to help her on with her blouse.

No Baby's Cry (Part 3 of 3 parts)

When Jesus left the church and stated that He would be taking "a far journey", He never told us how far, or for how long. We are still looking and waiting for His return nearly two thousand years later.

In view of this long waiting period, anyone can imagine the strain this would place upon the duty of watchfulness. It would become natural to become disbelieving and disenchanted and disillusioned. The longer the time lapse, the easier it would be to discount the possibility of any return at all, and the harder it would be to maintain a state of alertness. It seems accurate to state that, from this conclusion alone, that is, the long time span of Jesus' absence, the church would have disbanded and disintegrated long ago if there were not something living and vital in the Christian faith!

Something unearthly beats in the breasts of the saints. Something active fills their minds. Something as new and fresh as the morning sun brings hope and assurance. An inner voice softly repeats, "He is coming back...and it may be today." Watching for His imminent return in no way turns on a nearly 2,000 year promise alone. It rests upon a hope as fresh as a new breath of air. It results from a confidence as new as each sunrise. It stands upon a living conviction that throbs and pulsates with every exposure to its truth.

Active watchfulness without this repletion, this recurring infusion of advent vitality, would be an utter impossibility. The point is that any time the church hears the voice of the Holy Spirit, He speaks of Jesus' soon return. So the saints of 2009 are not predicating their state of alertness on 2,000 year old information alone. Every time we tune in to heaven's throne room, the message and atmosphere is that "He is coming back...and soon!"

Somebody suggested that when Jesus does come from heaven with a shout (SEE 1 Thessalonians 4:16) that His shout would be just one word..."ENOUGH!" This is just one person's speculation, but it is worth our consideration. "Enough" heartache, pain and sorrow. "Enough" broken things: broken hearts and broken homes and broken marriages. "Enough" rejection and lonliness. "Enough" deception and lying and false accusations. "Enough" temptation. "Enough" crying and misery. "Enough" misunderstandings. "Enough" disappointments and broken dreams. "Enough" discouragement. "Enough" sickness and suffering and death.

"Even so, Come, Lord Jesus!"