Me? A preacher?

Reverend Linda called yesterday.

"Could you pop over to the church this afternoon, Dale?" she asked. "There's something I want to discuss with you."

The church is only a few blocks away, Ms J, so I went. I met her in her office and we sat together a while, making small talk across the cluttered desk top. Soon she came to the point.

"I know I've asked you this before, Dale, but you've never committed to a firm answer. I'm asking you again now. When are you going to preach a sermon for us?"

Reverend Linda is a tall, slender woman. Just gone fifty. Handsome seems an appropriate word to describe her. She has beautifully expressive brown eyes and straight, brown hair. Her quick smile and school girl giggle belie her age and experience. And although Linda appears at times to be harried and overwhelmed, she has a knack for helping others to discover their own strengths. This is her fourth year with us and we like her very much.

"I don't know, Linda," I said. "Are you sure you want me to do this? Anyway, don't you have to be a bona fide preacher to preach?"

I heard Dan's teacher again in my head. "If you preach, preach, preach, you'll be a preacher."

I shook my head to dispel the notion. It was crazy. I mean you can't have just anyone standing up there behind the pulpit, can you? Don't you have to have a degree of some kind? Linda could see I was doing battle with my thoughts and she asked what I was thinking.

"Well, I'm not really a preacher, Linda. I don't even understand the Bible most of the time."

She handed me her Bible, opened to Matthew 14. "Read verses 23-33," she said, "and tell me what you think the message is. What do you think it means?"

I read through it and told her what it meant to me. It was the story of Jesus walking on water. Peter stepped out of a boat onto the stormy seas and walked on the water too, until he realised what he was doing and began to sink. He asked Jesus to help him and He did. "Oh ye of little faith," said Jesus. "Why did you doubt?"

"It's about trusting, I guess," I told the minister. "It's about stepping out of your comfort zone. About stepping out of your boat."

"You understand a lot more than you think, Dale," said Linda with a wide, I-told-you-so grin. "Do you think you could write a sermon based on that story?"

I felt my jaw fall slack.

"Write it? Holy shit ...!! Sorry, Linda. Holy cow! I thought I was just going to read it."

She laughed at my embarrassment and assured me she had lots of reference material that I could use.

"You love to read aloud," she smiled. "I know you do. You like doing the lay reading and the congregation always enjoys it too. And I've seen the articles you submit to our newsletter, so I know you like to write as well. Just say you'll do this, Dale. You'll be fine. Just fine."

I thought about it for another minute. She had said all the right things. She had offered all the right compliments in just the right measure. And the congregation enjoys hearing me read? Really? Well, I thought, ... what the hell.

"OK. I'll do it. When, though? I hope it's not too soon. It's going to take me a while to put this together you know."

Well, DUH! Of course, she knew, Ms J. She'd written a few sermons herself over the past twenty years. She leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. The pedestal fan turned its grated head just then and puffed a strand of Linda's hair around her wrist. It looked like a bracelet. When she answered, her voice was soft and sweet.

"You've got the whole month of July. You can do your sermon on August 7th. How's that?"

Her manner was calming and I felt myself beginning to relax again. I smiled then and with a simple nod of my head, the deal was sealed.

I've donned a few unfamiliar hats, lately Ms J. Cripple. Singer. And now preacher. What in the world can be next? You know, Ms Journal, you may think it mundane and ordinary, but my Life has been more exciting to me than the wildest midway ride. Sometimes, when I think of it, I'm so filled with joy and wonderment, that I nearly laugh out loud.

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