Late one Saturday night, after a long and
difficult day of visiting hospitals, nursing homes and elderly members of the
congregation, a Southern Baptist preacher was making his weary way home. As he traveled
the hilly, curving country road, he overtook a car. The slow moving car was weaving from
one side of the road to the other in a most disturbing manner. Being familiar with most
residents of the area he recognized the car as belonging to a member of his congregation.
"Oh no," said the preacher to
himself, "Frank Johnson has fallen off the wagon again. The way that car is weaving,
he must be really plastered. I better pull up beside him and get him to stop before he
hurts himself."
Putting thought to action, the preacher
pulled along side Frank's car just in time for the next swerve to run him off the road.
Over the shoulder, down a steep bank, the preacher's car rolled over twice and came to
rest against a large pine tree. Not completely senseless to the world, Frank stopped his
car and staggered back to a point above the preacher's car.
Fortunately, the preacher had been using a
seat belt. That and the relatively slow speed had prevented any injury. When Frank saw
someone struggling out of the wrecked car, he yelled, "Who the hell are you?"
The preacher yelled back, "Frank
Johnson, don't you talk to me like that."
"My God preacher, that you?"
"Yes Frank, it is, and I'll thank you
not to take the Lord's name in vain. It's already bad enough that you're drunk."
"You OK preacher?"
"Yes Frank, fortunately the Lord was
with me."
"You better let him ride with me. Way
you drive, you gonna kill him."
