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Now, where did I put it? Oh, hello. I wasn't expecting any readers yet, but, come on in; just be careful, the ink is
still wet. You'll have to excuse me, I'm in the middle of looking for something I've misplaced.
Why is it, when you
don't need something it's always right in your face? Then, when it's needed, it's nowhere to be found.
I have lost
something very important to me and I need it like, yesterday. If I didn't need it, I would be stumbling all over it. But now,
it is nowhere to be found, and I have looked everywhere.
Have you ever noticed that when you are looking for something,
it is always in the last place you look? Why is that?
I really should look in the last place first and save myself
all this aggravation. If I only could remember where the last place was I would look there, you can be sure.
What I'm
looking for is my sermon notes for this coming Sunday. I know they were here yesterday. I'm pretty sure of that . . . I think.
I
need those notes to prepare for my Sunday pulpit work. It is essential I find them. I would not mind so much losing those
notes, but I cannot remember what my sermon is or even the title.
If I knew I was going to lose it, I might have paid
a little more attention, but on a minister's salary, it is hard to pay for anything.
I'm in the habit of losing everything
and anything. If it can be lost, I'm your man - if you can find me.
I remember that period in the '60s where I was
anxious to find myself. Some people question as to whether I really did find myself or someone that looks a lot like me.
Frankly,
if my head were not bolted to my neck I would lose the bolts. A preacher can well afford to lose his mind (and many have)
but he can never afford to lose his sermon notes.
The truth is, many years ago I did lose my mind. Fortunately, I have
never had the occasion to use it so I have not missed it. My motto is, why confuse issues with thinking?
The last time
I used my mind I got into serious trouble with the Mistress of the Parsonage. All I said was, "I think you're wrong on this
matter."
Not only was I wrong to think it, I was doubly wrong in saying what I thought aloud, where people, especially
my wife, could hear me.
I should have listened to what the Bible says on this subject. "Even a fool, when he holdeth
his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding." (Proverbs 17:28 KJV.)
I
need to practice being a, Proverbs 17:28, man of understanding.
Where do things go when they are lost? Is there some
cyber terminal where "lost things" gather while they are indulging in their lostness?
What do they do while they are
there? What sinister plots are they hatching? Or, do they just amuse themselves watching me go crazy looking for them?
Take
socks for example, mine in particular. Where do they go and why don't they travel in pairs?
I buy them in pairs but
when they hit my sock drawer, something happens. In my sock drawer I have more divorced socks then anyone I know.
I
have made inquiries into this, but to no avail. I appealed to the SEC (Sox Exchange Complaint) department, but somehow my
letter went to the wrong SEC. How was I to know there was a Sex Exploration Campaign department? I still do not understand
their reply to my letter.
The places I have found stray socks is amazing. For example: I was preaching along one Sunday
and just as I was getting into a religious lather about something, I felt a sneeze tugging at the back of my nose.
Knowing
the inevitable was about to happen, I began looking for a good spot in my sermon to sneeze. Contrary to popular opinion, there
are no good places in any sermon to sneeze. Trust me on this one.
As a rule, I always wear a silk handkerchief in my
suit coat pocket not only for looks but also for the inevitable sermon-sneeze. You never know when a silk handkerchief will
come in handy.
When the sneeze came, I instinctively reached for my silk handkerchief to soften the blow. The next
thing I knew, everything went black.
When I awoke, I discovered the reason for passing out. Somehow, and I still don't
know how it happened, an old sock found it's way into my coat pocket, replacing my silk handkerchief.
My misplaced
socks can put any nose out of joint.
It reminds me of a story Jesus told about a father who lost his son. I can't think
of anything more tragic than losing a son. The anguish of that father must have been terrific.
I have always wondered
what was going through his mind as he watched his son walk out into a world of sin. The good news was the son eventually came
to himself and returned to his father.
When he found his son the father said, "For this my son was dead, and is alive
again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry." (Luke 15:24 KJV.)
Losing things like sermon notes and
socks may be inconvenient, but there is something worse.
Jesus made a significant observation that needs careful examination.
Very simply, Jesus said, "For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?" (Mark
8:36 KJV.)
Ah, here are my sermon notes.
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