A Double Portion of Mercy


In still another of my many quirky moments, this is what was rolling around in my head.  It was in answer to one of those writing challenges at a Christian writers’ site  — the theme, “At the Pulpit.”  I don’t know how anyone could get more “at the pulpit” than this.  (I take things way too literally.)  And I don’t win any prizes for this kind of stuff, either.  They probably want something morally or socially redeeming, and by now the judges are probably recognizing my entries, and thinking, “Oh. Her again!” — even though it’s anonymous until after they judge it. 

A Double Portion of Mercy

When I was a lad,
I often was bad
And resourceful in the extreme.
The parson, though oldish,
Could preach rather boldish –
He’d rant, and he’d rave, and he’d scream.

God’s man for the hour,
He’d preach with great power.
Appreciate it, I did not.

Not wanting, back then,
To be born again,
I thought it all nonsense and rot.

I slipped from my pocket
A spit-waddish rocket
And rubber band launcher, to boot.

He paused for effect.
I aimed at his neck
And waited my moment to shoot.

I let my piece fly —
Missed his neck, hit his eye.
A most stunning silence set in.

He looked quite surprised,
As he mopped at his eyes
And searched for the doer of sin.

I saw a grim smile
Ply his lips for awhile,
And then his eye lighted on me.

The culprit was found!
He’d prob’ly expound
And then take me over his knee.

I’d be thrashed in great shame,
In humiliated fame
Fore’er in church hist’ry renowned –

And what would my folks say?
A bitter price I’d pay,
Now that my sin had been found.

He just cleared his throat,
Said, “And on that note
We’ll end, for the sermon’s been long.”

He prayed a short blessing,
The people still guessing
Which wicked young boy did the wrong.

I went home relieved –
Great grace I’d received.
My gratitude much overflowed.

I repented of sin
And Jesus came in –
And now I am on the right road!


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