Anyone who has ever pastored has some great stories of their time in ministry. Here’s one of mine back when I was called "the pastor."
24/7
As a new pastor in a small community, I was eager to help all of the members of our church, so I made sure everyone knew that I was on call twenty-four hours a day.
All Caught Up
I had already completed my sermon messages for Sunday, so on Friday evening we had some friends over for a BBQ. It was going to be a nice, quite, relaxing evening.
The Dreaded Phone Call
With my Kiss-The-Cook, barbecue apron on, I was grilling some nice juicy steaks. Then, the phone rang, and my wife soon came with the news that someone was requesting to speak with “the pastor.” So, I drug myself away from the BBQ-grill and our guests to take the call.
When I took the call, a woman on the line asked me if I would give the family of the deceased her condolences at the funeral I was conducting the following morning.
News To Me
I reeled in horror as I realized that I knew nothing of a funeral that I was to conduct the following morning. I had the same feeling in the pit of my stomach as I had multiple times years earlier when a teacher or a professor would spring a pop quiz on the class, and I had not adequately (or not at all) read the text!
Terror gripped me. Had I forgotten such an important appointment? A family in our church was grieving, and I was entertaining guests with a BBQ?
I could not even remember who died!
My mind was barraged with images of church members shaking their heads in utter disgust, of a funeral with no minister present, of me in the unemployment line. Was the previous two years of pastoring and building up a good rapport with the people being wiped away by one major absentminded and incredibly irresponsible mistake? By this time my heart was palpitating.
As the woman continued to talk, I carefully but anxiously clung to every word she spoke hoping to get a clue as to who had died so I could act as though I had been aware all along, but to no avail. I simply hadn’t a clue.
By now I had broken into a cold sweat; I was feeling lightheaded, and my knees went feeble on me.
Ah . . . Who Died?
Finally in utter anguish and desperation, not to mention my chagrin and humiliation, I did the only thing my dazed-and-confused mind could think of. I asked the woman this amazingly undiplomatic question: "Ah . . . who died?"
After a moment of silence—during which I could actually “feel” her disapproving judgment coming through the phone line—she uttered a name that I did not recognize.
Well, that was no help. It was now time for my moment of silence as I stood there puzzled trying to figure out what I should do or say next.
And, ah . . . who are you?
Then, as tactfully as possible (which was impossible by this point), I asked the woman on the phone, "And, ah . . . who are you?"
Another long, arduous, judgmental moment of silence. Then, another unfamiliar name.
And, who am I?
Having now reached the pinnacle of my bewilderment and confusion, I blurted out, "And who do you think that you are speaking with right now?"
She responded: "Why, Pastor So-and-so."
Whew! Another unfamiliar name.
It turned out that another pastor in town had a phone number that was very similar to mine, and the woman had simply misdialed.
As I hung up the phone, I had a renewed feeling of job security, and a good story for my dinner companions. But, before we had dinner that night, we prayed for the family who had lost their loved one.
(Please note that you will need to take out the spaces and hyphens before and after the @ sign . . . this is placed this way to avoid spam emails.)
