Monday, April 14, 2008

God Has a Sense of Humor


I have been a church going person all my life. It’s just been something we have always done. When I was young my mama would drag us to church – not only on Sunday morning but also Sunday night and Wednesday night. When I got married and started having kids of our own, we took up right where my parents left off. We dragged our kids to church. It wasn’t something we voted on either. It was just what we did.

I sacrificed a lot of major sporting events on Sunday nights over the years for the cause of church. And we couldn’t record the games back then either. I wonder if I will get special rewards for that one day?

I think I have heard every sermon that could possibly be preached. And every Bible lesson that could possibly be taught. I surely don’t mean to insinuate that I know it all. The older I get the more I realize how little I know. But the truth is I’ve heard a lot. More than most folks I'm sure.

Because of all the sermons and all the lessons, I really don’t feel bad at this point in my life if I have to miss a sermon or two, or even a lesson or two every now and then.

For example, I am a major golf fan. Master’s Sunday is a major day for me. I watched replays of the Masters on Thursday and Friday nights on television. And was glued to the television on Saturday afternoon. You can imagine I was ready to watch the final round on Sunday. I watch every shot. I want to hear all the commentary. I’ve been going to the Masters since I was 10 years old and I know the course like the back of my hand. For me it is as exciting as it gets as the leaders go through Amen Corner on Sunday. It just don’t get better than Masters Sunday in Augusta.

If you read this blog, you know we have couples come to our house on Sunday nights for our church home group meeting. They arrive about 5:30PM. Last night I knew that the group would arrive about the same time the leaders of the Masters would arrive at Amen corner. Although there would be several golf fans who would want to watch the Masters as much as I did last night, I set the DVR to record it so we could have our lesson.

When the meeting began last night, even though I was recording it, I just couldn’t make myself turn the big screen plasma TV off. Being the spiritual person I am I muted it though. I figured I could engage in the discussion and keep an eye on the tournament at the same time. I noticed a few other guys were also glad I left it on. I am sure some thought I should turn it off but since it was my house and I am twice their age, nobody said anything.

I was working hard at listening to what everyone was saying, engaging in the discussion and keeping an eye on the golf tournament. Since I have no problem doing such things as sending and receiving emails on a blackberry while driving down the road, I knew I would have no trouble attending “church” and watching the Masters at the same time.

It’s called multi-tasking. But sometimes multi-tasking doesn’t work too well.

Last night just as one of my friends told the others about a friend of his who was just diagnosed with cancer, to the shock of the other 19 or so folks in the room, I jumped up with clenched fist and yelled “YES!"

Wrong thing to yell. And definitely at the wrong time.

I had one eye on the TV and I thought the leader of the tournament had hit a hole in one. I quickly realized it was a replay from several years ago. My wife gave me a dirty look. I probably got many more dirty looks but since I had my head down at that point, I didn’t look to see.

We did finish the meeting and the lesson and after a few minutes everybody was gone. I settled in on the sofa to watch the final few holes of the Masters that I had missed but recorded. And to hear every word of the commentary.

I watched about five minutes and the recording stopped. Through some technical failure, the doggoned thing did not record.

God really has a sense of humor, doesn't He?

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

God understands.

Anonymous said...

I'm sure that God enjoys a good game of golf sometimes.