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Because I just bought me one of these here fancy new-fangled telephone thingies. The good news is that my pastor doesn’t know how to use one. The bad news is that I’m afraid he may learn.

My grandparents emigrated to this country from Austria-Hungary (what became Czechoslovakia) in the early years of the 20th century, settling in a tiny coal mining town outside Scranton, where my grandfather spent much of his long and difficult life underground, mining. (He named his youngest daughter Anne, the patroness of coal miners.) I never forget…

A deacon sent me this e-mail yesterday, which is challenging and thought-provoking — for me and, perhaps, for all deacons: I read your column (blog) regularly and enjoy it. It is obvious that you enjoy your ministry – especially your preaching. I want to gently and lovingly challenge you – I see very very little…

This chump thinks he knows.
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