I don't like anonymous notes. I throw them in the trash, and I like to pretend that they don't bother me. I've received two or three over the last five years.
One particularly uncomplimentary one addressed to me was left on an offering envelope for the ushers to see as they counted money. Wow!
Today I found one on my desk. "Pastor, don't wait till they are ready. Set a standard. They need to be fed." Hmmm. What does that mean, I wonder? They? Not we. Perhaps the note writer feels disconnected from the rest of us.
Or perhaps he or she, being spirituality fat already, does not need to be fed? Oooh, pride. Bleech. The implication is that no one is being fed spiritually by the sermons, I suppose.
Perhaps the person thought I would strike my forehead and say, "Aha! I need to feed them? Why didn't someone tell me? Thank GOD and hallelujah for the wisdom of the brief words on this anonymous slip of paper!"
Phooey! Anonymous notes usually come from cowards. And they never make me change what I'm doing. But they sure do make me crabby.
1 comment:
Kinda like people I visit who very kindly steer me away from their delicate wicker and towards the largest, heaviest furniture they own. Like I don't already know my size?
Yep. People can be real sweeties. Aren't you glad the Lord is the one you answer to, not anonymous tipsters?
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