A 15-year-old Amish boy and his father were visiting a mall outside their community.
They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny, silver walls that could move apart and then slide back together again.
The boy asked, “What is this, Father?”
The father, never having seen an elevator, responded, “Son, I have never seen anything like this in my life, I don’t know what it is.”
While the boy and his father were watching with amazement, a rotund old lady in a wheel chair moved up to the moving walls and pressed a button. The walls opened, and the lady rolled between them into a small room.
The walls closed, and the boy and his father watched the small numbers above the walls light up sequentially. They continued to watch until it reached the last number, and then the numbers began to light in the reverse order.
Finally the walls opened up again and a gorgeous 24-year-old blonde stepped out. The father, not taking his eyes off the young woman, said quietly to his son… “Go get your Mother.”
I was once asked to take three services, during a particular Minister’s summer holidays, when he would be absent from the Pulpit.
On my third Sunday, after parking the car, I noticed an elderly member of the Kirk struggling to negotiate the steep steps up to the building. I caught up with her about a quarter up the “stairway to heaven”, and offered to take her arm to help her up to the church.
After a moment or so, she asked me, “And who is conducting morning worship today, young man?”
“It’s Mr Strachan”, I replied.
She then turned to me, and said, “I wonder, then, if you would be so kind as to help me back down the steps”
The Meenister’s Log
When I was a divinity student, during University holidays, I would often take Sunday Services in Churches whose ministers had either left or retired – it’s known as “pulpit supply”
On one particular Sunday, I arrived at the steps of this Church at the same time as an elderly lady who was walking with a stick.
(I should point out that being a student, I wasn’t entitled to wear a clerical collar and instead was in mufti)
“May I help you up the steps?” I asked her.
“How kind, thank you”
Half way up, we stopped for a moment’s rest.
“Tell me, young man, who is the preacher today?”
“Why, it’s myself; I was here a couple of weeks ago, if you remember”
“I wonder,” she replied, “if you would help me back down the steps!”