I just received a call from Bob the Baptist. He sounded a little dazed and confused. Due, I'm sure, to the spiritual elation of doing holy work, although it sounds like the intoxication of the unredeemed.
He tells me that, after he left our late-night prayer evening about 8.30 yesterday, he felt a calling to evangelize the lost at the Weatherspoons in Leicester. There seems to have been some confusion involved, and he ended up spending the night in the cells. After a discussion with the constabulary this morning, he has been let out, but the suggestion was made that he leave the country as soon as possible. He is therefore heading to Gatwick as I write.
In so many ways this reminds me of the story of Paul! Constantly emerging victorious from prison, shaking the dust off his feet and moving on in his pilgrimage.
So I was going to take Bob on a trip round the landfill sites of Rutland today, prior to his preaching a farewell sermon tomorrow. But instead I shall weed the leek patch, throw Mrs Collins' cat over the fence one more time, and then get down to the emergency writing of tomorrow's sermon.
Little wonder, Mr Parslow, that Miss Tilney doesn't like your sermons!
ReplyDelete