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The following is a true story from an LCMS teacher.

While assisting the communion distribution one cold, DRY winter Sunday many years ago, I hustled from one end of the chancel to the other to welcome the next table of the godly. As I approached the first person kneeling at the communion rail, one of my former students now in high school, I moved the host (body of Christ) toward her mouth. Everything A-Okay. One inch to go. ZOT!!! A bolt of static electricity from my index finger to her upper lip knocked her a foot backwards and me for a loop! We tried again, this time without incident. Our eyes met for a moment; humor in hers, repentance in mine. I was always lousy in science. From that moment on, I touched something metal prior to each table distribution, to rid myself of the electrons.

Chasing the cheese wheel . . . .

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The following is a true story.

In one of the congregations I served we had a year of worship celebrations for the 130th anniversary of the founding of the congregation. During one of the celebrations we had a communion service with a distinguished guest speaker. Everything went just fine. The hymns for the occasion were perfect. The sermon proclaimed Christ. Everyone was giving thanks to God for giving his grace to our congregation for so many years.

But something happened that caused me to chuckle. It was a rather large church, and the communion rail was long and heavy. It usually takes two ushers to carry it, but for some reason one of the ushers on this day decided to move it without any help. He positioned himself in the middle of the rail, to balance its weight and length. But instead of turning his body to move the rail in the direction he wanted to go, he picked it up and turned the whole rail, spinning it in a counter-clockwise direction. Another usher standing near him had to duck to avoid being beaned by the rail. For just an instant an episode of the Three Stooges flashed through my mind (you know, the one where they’re painting a room and Curly picks up a ladder and swings it around several times, and Moe and Larry have to keep ducking). It was one of those things that most people in the congregation probably didn’t notice, but since I was serving at the altar I couldn’t help but see it.

Chasing the cheese wheel . . .

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The following is a true story.

When I was an undergrad student (the institution shall remain nameless) I attended a Lutheran campus ministry (nameless). It was a great place to meet friends and fellowship in Christ. One Lenten season the Pastor (anonymous) prepared a series of sermons on specific characters from the passion narratives in the Gospels, Pontius Pilate, Peter, the slave whose ear was cut off in the garden, etc. Some of the students volunteered to dress in costumes and say a few lines. One student had the brilliant idea that flowing from beneath his sheet (he was supposed to be a ghost, remember) there would be billows of fog, to set the ambiance for his “other-worldly” appearance.

How to do this was the problem. So he came up with the plan to put dry ice in a bag of water suspended from his waist. A rubber tube would deliver the fog from the bag to the outside of the sheet. Well, a few of us knew ahead of time what he was planning (of course the Pastor was completely in the dark), and we waited for the ghost’s dramatic appearance with eager anticipation. When the big moment arrived there were only tiny, almost unnoticeable little whisps of fog, and a huge distracting noise coming from beneath the sheet, as the plastic bag rattled around rubbing against the “ghost’s” body. It didn’t work.

Chasing the cheese wheel . . .

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