HouseofJudah
Member
- Joined
- Dec 7, 2005
- Messages
- 160
When a new child visited our Sunday school, the teacher greeted him and asked his age. The little boy held up four fingers.
"Oh, you're 4," said the teacher. "And when will you be 5?"
The child stared at her and after a few seconds replied, "When I hold up the other finger.
Our family had just joined a new church. My husband has trouble remembering names, so he often called our new minister "the preacher." We were relaxing at home one afternoon when the doorbell rang. Our 4-year-old daughter, Molly, ran to get the door.
"Who is it?" I called out from the kitchen.
"It's the creature!" she exclaimed.
"What?" I said, heading for the living room.
"The creature," she shouted. "It's the creature that lives at church!"
Our red-faced pastor stood on the threshold, "I've been called a lot of things, but this tops them all," he chuckled.
It was one of those Sundays when our friends hoped to make a quick escape from the crowded church parking lot. They had positioned themselves on one of the back pews. Holding their 3-year-old daughter, Jennifer, they made a dash for the exit just as the congregation bowed for the final prayer. But just as they made it to the door, little Jennifer, who seemed to like the preacher, loudly called, "Good-bye, man!" to the pastor. Busted in the act, the two guilty-faced parents stood frozen in the aisle, their heads bowed, till the minister gave the final "amen."
My 4-year-old great niece, Runa, was delighted with the story of the Resurrection, which she asked her mom to repeat over and over. A few days before Easter, she was searching the house for her older brother. Finally, she went into his room, calling his name. Receiving no response, she raised her arms and shouted, "Yahoo, he is not here. He is risen!"
"Oh, you're 4," said the teacher. "And when will you be 5?"
The child stared at her and after a few seconds replied, "When I hold up the other finger.
Our family had just joined a new church. My husband has trouble remembering names, so he often called our new minister "the preacher." We were relaxing at home one afternoon when the doorbell rang. Our 4-year-old daughter, Molly, ran to get the door.
"Who is it?" I called out from the kitchen.
"It's the creature!" she exclaimed.
"What?" I said, heading for the living room.
"The creature," she shouted. "It's the creature that lives at church!"
Our red-faced pastor stood on the threshold, "I've been called a lot of things, but this tops them all," he chuckled.
It was one of those Sundays when our friends hoped to make a quick escape from the crowded church parking lot. They had positioned themselves on one of the back pews. Holding their 3-year-old daughter, Jennifer, they made a dash for the exit just as the congregation bowed for the final prayer. But just as they made it to the door, little Jennifer, who seemed to like the preacher, loudly called, "Good-bye, man!" to the pastor. Busted in the act, the two guilty-faced parents stood frozen in the aisle, their heads bowed, till the minister gave the final "amen."
My 4-year-old great niece, Runa, was delighted with the story of the Resurrection, which she asked her mom to repeat over and over. A few days before Easter, she was searching the house for her older brother. Finally, she went into his room, calling his name. Receiving no response, she raised her arms and shouted, "Yahoo, he is not here. He is risen!"
:rainbow: :rose:
