“Hey There, Preacher!”

I’d been out of seminary about three months.

Was walking along the sidewalk in downtown Vandalia. Stopped for traffic at a major four-way.

A red pickup swooped by and I heard a loud voice yell, “Hey there, Preacher!” I recognized Bill’s voice.

I was in a suit. Carrying a briefcase. Trying to look professional.

I was offended.

Highly offended.

After all, as a pastor I was so much more than a preacher. That very morning I had met with some people to go over some numbers in a report. Hence my briefcase.

I recognized both the pickup and the driver. Coming from my highly offended self-importance, I sarcastically sneered back, “Hey there, Farmer!”

Bill’s foot came off the gas. His smile vanished.

I realized my mistake.

So much more to that story.

The memory of which was ignited by a piece by a colleague and friend. See you back here tomorrow for that.

For today, please accept my apologies for comparable behaviors.