Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were ev'ry stalk on earth a quill And ev'ry man a scribe by trade To write the love of God above; Would drain the ocean dry; Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Tho' stretched from sky to sky. #ThirdVerse

The pastor will be praying this week about ditching the screens and going back to hymnals. He has to. I put it on the prayer card.

Sorry. I’m Kung Fu fighting.

Did you hear that Simon and Garfunkel have a shortened version of their biggest hit? Abridged Over Troubled Water

Here’s Psalm 19, put to the tune of “How Great Thou Art.” We’ll be singing it this Sunday.

But food will not commend us to God; we are neither the worse if we do not eat, nor the better if we do eat. — 1 Corinthians 8:8

I hope they don’t see me in the third hour of a church business meeting.

Happy August. Usher Camp starts Monday. Two-a-days, full suits, otherwise known as H-E-double-hockey-sticks week. Bring hydration.

Preforeordestination is my kind of Calvinism.

Lot’s wife could have used this one.

You can have it when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

Doesn’t work if you worship Mexican hot chocolate, just saying.

Lobster Eel

In the TV ad, Timmy is blinking S-O-S in Morse Code.

Put your ice cream bowl in the dishwasher and go to bed, sinners.

They started padding the pews.

Good night, sinners. You can shrivel up more brain cells in the morning.