some things happen only to those of us that lead small churches. there is simply no other arena for this type of diversion.
i am not kidding.
yesterday, before i was even finished with my warm up (for all the non-preachers out there, the “warm up” is the pre-sermon monologue that mixes a preview of the coming awesomeness with a little endearing humor), my narcoleptic friend began nodding.
i experienced a brief moment of panic (“am i really this tedious?”), so i did what all preachers do: i turned up the volume. i issued forth with passion, but my drowsy devotee continued to snooze.
i toyed briefly with the idea of having someone wake him up but then i thought, “let him sleep. maybe he was up all night with an emergency. or maybe i really am this tedious.”
as i was bringing my presentation to a close, i happened to glance back in the direction of my somnolent parishioner. he was comatose. his head was almost on his knees, and i was literally afraid he was going to fall face-forward out of his chair. the teenagers in his proximity were much more interested in him than me.
i immediately led the congregation in prayer so he would be less conspicuous.
regular readers of these irreverent ramblings will be proud to know that i as i was greeting mr. van winkle on his way out of the building, i fought off the urge to ask him how he liked the message.
at least he was there.