Once a month at my church, members of the congregation are given an hour to come up to the podium and bear their testimonies about the gospel. Most of them are spiritually uplifting, many of them are sweet, and a few of them are darned funny.
Example: A kid came up and talked about goals his family set. One of the goals was to stop saying the F word. His father immediately ran up and explained that the F word was “fart.”
Some of the testimonies are ridiculous.
A twenty-something girl in my congregation got up and said she had recently been through a difficult trial. She was a dog groomer, and she accidentally killed a dog. I think she stepped on it. Her eyes misted over as she talked about how tragic this was for her and how grateful she was for the power of prayer and the Lord’s help in getting through it.
All the while I’m thinking, “Seriously? You need God to help you get over the death of a dog?”
Now, this is what I call a good testimony:
A girl and her sister where going for a drive, and she felt a sudden prompting to take their large truck instead of their small car. As they were driving in the truck, something large hit it. There was a loud cry:
There was another, and then another. A flock of sheep had escaped their pen and gathered in the middle of the highway. Sheep hit the front, flew over the roof, and fell under the wheels. It was a flurry of blood and tufts of wool.
She was grateful for the prompting because if she had taken the car, the sheep would have hit the windshield and killed her and her sister.
People in the congregation had to press their palms to their mouths to keep from laughing. We were all picturing flying balls of fluff, cries of “Baa!” and being killed by a sheep.
She stopped when she saw us crying from stifling our laughter. “Okay, it is kind of funny,” she admitted.