Steven K. Gjerde on the Gift of Living in a Parsonage
It is early evening, and my family has just said the table prayer. I am starting to relax after a day of visiting the homebound, and my son eagerly tells me about his latest adventures at preschool. Suddenly, the doorbell rings.
“Oh, Pastor! I’m glad you’re home,” says the harried parishioner on our porch step. “I forgot to pick up my Sunday-school materials last Sunday, and the church is locked, so I was wondering if—oh, I’m sorry. Were you eating?”
Yes, we were eating, but soon enough I will trot across the gravel road and unlock the church as asked. When I return home, my wife will frown at me, my son . . .
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