On Being A Deacon...

A friend of mine wrote this hilarious tongue-in-cheek letter to some new, in-coming deacons at his church - I thought it was too priceless not to share:

At first, I hesitated to tell this story to a new deacon, but sometimes it is better to learn from the lessons of the past. It is the story of my first deacon meeting, back in the winter of 2000. We were at the old church and I remember that, as I made my lonely way from Benton through the driving snow, the excitement and anticipation was high. I was running a bit late after stopping to change a flat tire for an older couple who was stranded be the roadside and again to encourage several troubled teens at the Exxon station in Bryant.

Anyway, when I pulled up in the parking lot of the church, it was empty of other cars. Could I have been wrong? Was the meeting next week instead of today? I decided to wait for a few moments, so I sat with the car running, looking out through the snowfall. I had my well-worn Spurgeon devotional, Morning and Evening, and began to read using the dim light of the car cassette player which was playing a John MacArthur tape..James 1:1-2 part 12, as I recall. Maybe part 13, my memory is not as good as it once was.

THUMP! The sound was like that of a watermelon that had been dropped from the tree I was parked under onto the roof of my car. "What the.....?" I wondered. Suddenly my door was jerked open and I was roughly pulled from the car by three shadowy individuals wearing ski masks. I was flung face down into the snow and pinned with a heavy knee in my back. "zhutbgpffw!" I sputtered through a mouthful of snow.

"When did he post them?" hissed a voice that sounded vaguely familiar. Something one would expect to hear in the deep woods of South Louisiana.

"Post what?" I answered. Suddenly a rough boot pressed against my neck, pinning my head deeper in the snow.

"Don't get cute! When did he post them?"

My mind began to race. Post, post.. What did the voice mean? Post office? Letter? Post...... The 95! The 95 Theses!

"1517!" I cried. I felt the boot relax the pressure on my neck.

"And the P? What is the proof?" queried the voice.

I was beginning to understand. "Perseverance of the saints! John 10:28-30!"

The knee lifted from my back and hands pulled me out of the snow. I looked around to see, not three, but sixteen or seventeen men surrounding me, all wearing hoods. As I began to shake the snow from my clothes, one who was taller and thinner than the rest spoke:

"Do I hear a motion to approve the 2001 budget as submitted?"

I sang out, "I move we approve the 2001 budget as submitted!"

"Is there a second?" spoke the thin man.

"Second," grunted the deep South Louisiana voice.

"All in favor say Aye!"

The Ayes rang loud in the early morning light.

"All opposed?" The silence was unbroken.

"The ayes have it - meeting adjourned," said the thin man. He turned to me as the others melted away into the shadows. "Welcome to the club."

Man, those were the good old days!

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