Six sermons, six orders of service in a little over five weeks! That’s gotta be some sort of record. Yes, gentle readers, all my summer services are ready to go. But hold on, you say, weren’t you only going to preach four sermons in July with a possible fifth last week of June? Quite right, and that’s the way I explained it to my sister – my older, much wiser and by times annoyingly insightful sister, who, after learning there are five Sundays in July thought I should prepare six sermons in case my minister wanted me to preach all five Sundays and a possible sixth one last week of June.
“Naw,” I said with a certain smugness, “I’m sure it’s four plus one.”
“Um-hm,” she replied, “I’d check that out if I were you.”
So fine. On Sunday I asked my minister how many Sundays in July she wanted me in the pulpit.
“How many Sundays are there in July?” she asked.
“Five,” I replied.
“Then five,” she said.
“Oh,” I said.
Which goes to show you God put older, much wiser and by times annoyingly insightful sisters on this planet for a reason, and it’s not just so you can borrow their clothes and try to embarrass them in front of their boyfriends – not that I ever did either of those things.
