You wanna piece of me? Bring it, Babycakes! (Imagine Kenau Reeves facing Hugo Weaving in the waning moments of The Matrix.) This shit is bananas!
I've put in over 70 ministry hours in each of the last three weeks. I'm tired, worn out and extremely irritable.
That being said, I got a phone call last night from the daughter of a perpetually whiny, chronically anxious, learnedly dependent and feignedly helpless parishoner who is having ELECTIVE surgery in TWO weeks. (Said daughter is a non-churchgoer). "Why didn't I mention that (her) mother is having surgery in two weeks at prayer time?"
Lessee ... Both of your parents were in church yesterday. Why didn't your mother (who is not afraid to speak out during a worship service) mention something about it? Or better yet, why not your father - he was sitting right there beside her? Or even better: If you are so concerned, why weren't YOU in church, lifting her up to the throne of grace?
Could it be perhaps I was blown away when another faithful daughter of God announced that she had terminal cancer and asked to be supported in prayer by her church family? Could it be that your mother - who loves to be the center of attention - thought she couldn't place a trump card on that news?
Or, how about the other 50 people who assault me before worship saying, "Would you announce ... ?" And the 20 others who say, "I know you're busy, but could you do this for me?"
And the folks who wait until the end of the service to dump on me.
Please, give me a break!
Bring it, Chickie. This shit is bananas.