Bless me, but we all enjoyed a wonderful time at our St. Francis’s Day Dynamite Fishing Party. Unfortunately we didn’t get to catch any fish, since Evangelical Eric accidentally exploded the bait while getting it out of his car. Fortunately this only blew off his foot, so it’s not as if anyone was actually hurt – the lad can hop, after all. Even so, Consuella rightly pointed out there’s no sense in the parish paying for an expensive medical insurance plan if we don’t claim on it (especially as we'd negotiated some wonderful under-the-counter kick-backs with a local hospital - yet another reason why Obama's evil plan for fair and equitable health care must not succeed) and she ensured the wayward semi-limb was packed in ice and called the paramedics.
You’ll be delighted to learn that microsurgeons have subsequently reconnected the boy and his podiatry, although I was disappointed they failed to heed my advice and put it on backwards. I’ve always said evangelicals don’t know which way they’re heading, and this would have made for a wonderful illustration of my point.
Still, the greatest disaster was the loss of my notepad, which had been on the back seat of what was once Evangelical Eric’s car. I’d been intending to live-blog the festivities. since a parish dynamite-fishing day is almost as explosive as General Convention, and there are no boring speeches. Consequently I’m now a little handicapped when it comes to keeping up with the latest developments in the glorious world-wide schism, and even worse my important socio-theological research must once again depend on whatever our local newsagent chooses to stock on that ‘special’ shelf at the rear of his shop. Yet thanks to Evangelical Eric’s compensation payout he’ll be getting more than enough money to buy me new top-of-the-line lap-top, so you’ll all be relieved to know my inconvenience is only temporary.
Meanwhile I’m most grateful to The Lead for alerting my attention to a parish of fine Los Angeles property thieves who trashed the Church they’d been unjustly ordered to return to its rightful owners.
Rarely has there been such a clear example of GAFCON stewardship in action, and the whole account reminds me of something in Scripture. Since I’m normally much too busy teaching the Bible spend any time reading it some of the details may be a little foggy, but I recall an instance when two women brought a dispute concerning some item of petty property (it may have been a child) before King Solomon. In his wisdom the ruler with more wives than a Nigerian Rector’s warden was able to determine the true owner of the bauble by their concern for it: the real owner, Solomon decided, was the woman who didn’t care what happed to the property, the one whom announced that if she couldn’t have it then no-one should. Or something like that: you can read the story for yourselves here.
I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.