I spent my childhood in parsonages in Alberta and England, however
this poem is based on an incident from my husband’s youth…
| The Reverend was a country pastor preaching many years ago. He gazed over his congregation My! Oh how he loved them so. These folks were but frail humans full of weaknesses and vice. Why, one of his little congregation had just up and left his wife. A member was making moonshine it was called the Devil’s brew. The man’s wife was sipping secretly and his kids were sampling too. The pretty daughter of the treasurer with a young rascal just eloped. Her father wanted it annulled and was about to call the Pope. Two neighbors in the congregation quarreled where the fence should be. Now they sat on each side of the church for eye to eye they could not see. |
The Pastor saw their shortcomings and thought he’d set them straight. He preached on the first man’s vices yes, he preached with facts, not hate. The members of that fellowship under their breath replied ‘Amen’. They all nodded in full agreement for the man’s faults were clear to them. The people enjoyed the pointed sermons. They did, until it came their turn. Then they departed in a huff, said they never intended to return. The Pastor saw his church was shrinking then he had a change of heart. Started to tell of God’s love and mercy He’d let God do the changing part. The Reverend learned a valued lesson, some we learn when we’re dismayed. By building up, not tearing down, change results and bonds are seldom frayed. |
~ J.E. Dyrholm ~
Country Sermons[\audio]