What with sermon preparations and anxiety,
the new preacher had gotten very little sleep the week before he was to address his flock
for the first time; so by Sunday morning, he was both exhausted and extremely nervous.
Nevertheless, he managed to make it up the few steps onto the platform and into the
pulpit.
However, he had barely begun his
presentation when everything he had planned to say flew right out of his mind. In fact,
his mind went totally blank. Then he remembered that in seminary they had taught him what
to do if a situation like this ever arose: repeat your last point, and let it remind you
of what's coming next. Figuring this advice couldn't hurt, he recalled the very last thing
he'd said, and repeated it: "Behold," he quoted, "I come quickly."
Still his mind was blank. He thought he'd
better try it again: "Behold, I come quickly." Still nothing.
He tried it one more time -- but in his
panic, he pronounced the words with such force that he lost his balance, fell forward,
knocked the pulpit to one side, tripped over a flower arrangement, and fell into the lap
of a little old lady in the front row.
Flustered and embarrassed, he picked
himself up, apologized profusely, and started to explain what had just happened.
"That's all right, young man,"
said the little old lady kindly. "It was my fault, really. You told me three times
you were on your way down here. I should have just gotten out of your way!"
