konageezer
04-14-05, 11:00 AM
Okay.
It so happened that a big gospel revival was travelling through the small towns of the prairies. The trucks rolled into one town early one morning, and preparations were begun at once for the Revival meeting at 2 o'clock. Crews put up the big tent, leaflets were posted all around town, the choir practiced, all was made ready. At the appointed hour, the gospel choir swelled, and the preacher, clad in his magnificent white suit, swept magestically into the tent, only to find the place empty, save for one wizened old farmer sitting down front.
Crestfallen, the preacher put up his hand to silence the choir, and walked down off the stage to the farmer.
"Well, old-timer," the preacher began, "Looks like it's pretty much just you and me. Do you want to bother with this, or would you rather just forget it?"
The old farmer, as was his habit, thought carefully for a few moments. "Well, you know, I'm just an old farmer," he said slowly, "but it seems to me that if I took a load of hay out to the field, and only one cow showed up, I'd surely feed her."
The preacher, touched and inspired by this earthy wisdom, leapt back up onto the stage, and launched into his best hellfire-and-damnation sermon. It was two solid hours of bible-thumping, brow-mopping fury.
When he had finished, the preacher came back down and sat by the farmer. "What did you think of that, old-timer?" he asked, still slightly breathless.
Again the farmer thought for a few moments before speaking. "Well, you know, I'm just an old farmer," he said, "but it seems to me that if I took a load of hay out to the field, and only one cow showed up, I surely wouldn't give her the whole load."
It so happened that a big gospel revival was travelling through the small towns of the prairies. The trucks rolled into one town early one morning, and preparations were begun at once for the Revival meeting at 2 o'clock. Crews put up the big tent, leaflets were posted all around town, the choir practiced, all was made ready. At the appointed hour, the gospel choir swelled, and the preacher, clad in his magnificent white suit, swept magestically into the tent, only to find the place empty, save for one wizened old farmer sitting down front.
Crestfallen, the preacher put up his hand to silence the choir, and walked down off the stage to the farmer.
"Well, old-timer," the preacher began, "Looks like it's pretty much just you and me. Do you want to bother with this, or would you rather just forget it?"
The old farmer, as was his habit, thought carefully for a few moments. "Well, you know, I'm just an old farmer," he said slowly, "but it seems to me that if I took a load of hay out to the field, and only one cow showed up, I'd surely feed her."
The preacher, touched and inspired by this earthy wisdom, leapt back up onto the stage, and launched into his best hellfire-and-damnation sermon. It was two solid hours of bible-thumping, brow-mopping fury.
When he had finished, the preacher came back down and sat by the farmer. "What did you think of that, old-timer?" he asked, still slightly breathless.
Again the farmer thought for a few moments before speaking. "Well, you know, I'm just an old farmer," he said, "but it seems to me that if I took a load of hay out to the field, and only one cow showed up, I surely wouldn't give her the whole load."