“How’d that guy get in?”
an usher whispers to his partner
“Far end of third row right.”
Could be Jesus sitting there,
for all Sam knows;
but how did the man
get past the door?
Not very neat
pretty scrungy, truth to tell.
Later, while driving home,
Sam wondered what to do in future
about visitors “not of our kind.”
Bits from past sermons flashed
“Could that have been Jesus,
lonely hoping for reception;
maybe wondering (as I have done)
whether sermons actually bear fruit
to educated folks like us.
But, why come here?”
Middle of the night,
“On the other hand, why not here?”
Sam couldn’t sleep,
pondering when,
if ever,
the Lord might be acceptable
nowadays
in church
his very presence
interrupting service flow.
Maybe at the altar;
time of consecration;
distant from the congregation.
You know, when the pastor says,
“This is my body” and so forth.
Good try at imagining, Sam;
but, no; not up front either,
unless he first stopped
to vest ‘acceptably.’
Never in a pew
with that puzzled look
which might disturb the preacher!
“We’d better get a plan,
just to be sure next time;
otherwise well,
might get out of hand!”
Doug Vest
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