The 22nd Psalm

 I’m not saying church services were especially dull this past Sunday, but as I was listening to the sermon my mind couldn’t help but wander a bit and I thought of a funny story that reminded me of my wife.


It seems a police officer showed up to arrest a lady for shooting her husband because the poor guy made the mistake of stepping on the floor she had just mopped, and when he didn’t return to the station his sergeant called to see why. 

“Have you arrested her yet?” he wanted to know.


“Not yet,” the police officer responded.


“Why not?”


“The floor’s still wet.”


A sharp jab with an elbow brought me back to the present.


“What’s so funny,” my wife wanted to know.


My father, meanwhile, was sitting on the other side of me. 


His eyes were barely open.


I don’t know how to tell you this next part without making it also sound like a joke, but a man from the audience was called up to the pulpit to read the 22nd Psalm. After he was done, my father leaned his head toward me and said, “That guy’s a liar.”


My beautiful but embarrassed wife shushed us.


Keeping my voice low, I asked, “What makes you say that, Pop?” 


“That psalm was waaay longer than 20 seconds,” he groused. 

  

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