FCFI
November 24, 2024
The story goes how one Sunday morning as a husband and wife were getting ready for church, the husband decided he didn’t want to go after all. But his wife was very adamant about him going. After several unsuccessful attempts to convince him he needed to get ready, she finally said, “Listen, I can give you two good reasons why you should go to church today. One, it is Sunday, that means it’s the Lord’s Day, and God wants you in church. And, two, there’s going to be a lot of disappointed people if you don’t show up – seeing as you’re the preacher.”
I figure there are basically two kinds of people in the world – those who get where they are going early, and those who get there late. The funny thing is that most of the time those two are married to each other.
I’m an early bird. One time, on the way to church I ran into a delay. I came upon a farmer in need of help getting his cattle in. The heifers had rubbed the gate open and were joyously romping on the road when I arrived at the scene. My first instinct was to give a friendly wave and hurry on by, after all, I am the pastor and the pastor can’t be late for church, that just wouldn’t be right. But then scenes of the Good Samaritan story began to flood my mind and I didn’t want to fall into the category of the first two guys who came on the scene of a man in need and then sanctimoniously went on by, pretending to be too busy to help. And besides, my neighbor needed help. So I stopped and we chased cattle through tall ditch weeds and wet grass. My Sunday shoes and socks were soaked as were my pant legs up to the knees. I had those little, white dandelion seeds that float through the air and look like snow stuck all over me from head to toe. But we got the cattle in, the farmer secured his gate, and I was off down the road, none the worse for the wear. Eventually my pant legs dried out but the socks remained sloshy the whole morning. Now the whole experience is just one happy memory.
There was another incident, only this time it didn’t involve Sunday morning or church. It was when my wife and I lived in Arizona and decided to drive across the desert to San Diego, California. It’s a seven hour drive and it’s all barren desert, except for an oasis in Yuma, Arizona and another a little further west in El Centro, California. On this particular trip the wind was blowing hard from north to south blowing sand across the highway like snow here in the midwest. It was making drifts about a foot or so high. The car bumped and jumped its way across them. Sand drifts are brutal.
At one point, I felt the right rear tire begin to thump and I knew we had a flat. It “just so happened” there was an exit right there, so we took it. At the stop sign, there was a gas station to the right that looked to be abandoned, but upon further review, it wasn’t abandoned at all. There were two older gentlemen sitting in rocking chairs under the shade of the overhang of the building, out of the wind, with their hats pulled down over their eyes. Each had a long stem of grass protruding from his mouth. I pulled up and drove over the air hose laying across the driveway, causing a bell to ring, which alerted them. I jumped out and said “hello”. They responded “no es panol.” I only know one word of Spanish which is Hola. So I said that, then pointed to my tire that had air hissing out a nail hole. One of the men nodded and nonchalantly trudged into his shop and retrieved a jack and a tin can full of tire repair stuff. He jacked up the car where it sat, plugged the hole, aired up the tire, held up five fingers communicating the price, which I produced, waved, and we were off. What at first looked like an emergency, actually had become a blessing and a fun story to tell. I’ve sinced prayed for those two guys a few times.
I officiated at a wedding several years ago, where the bride and groom were notorious for being late to any and every event they ever attended. Their wedding was no different. It was a hot and humid August day in Martintown. The church was packed to standing-room only. The wedding time arrived. But there was no bride or groom to be found. They sent word for us to hang on because they were on their way. Finally, and I do mean finally, an hour after the planned time, the bride arrived and 30 minutes later the groom showed up. For those keeping track at home, that’s a total late time of 90 minutes. After that the ceremony went with only one hitch and the couple have been happily married for over 20 years now. They do miss a lot of events though.
One thing we can be sure of and that is that God is never early, He is never late, but He is always right on time in human affairs – in the circumstances of our lives. We don’t have to fret.
(Kevin Cernek is Lead Pastor of Martintown Community Church in Martintown, Wisconsin).