A candle doesn’t ask darkness for permission, saying,
“Shall I put up this specially crafted divider for you to squeeze out some of the truth from a quintizemally small ray of light?”
No, it is darkness who ask,
'Where Do You Think You’re Going?'
"What do you think you’re doing?” asked the wife as he turns right towards the nearest Church of choice 56 miles away and not the only one left in town, one of those error-straddled, tongues-talkin, ‘high and mighty’ prophesy-giving churches.
The wife hints to go to the downtown Church.
Husband, “What, Pentecostals? Are you serious? Ha, the only thing they have going for themselves is they have learned how to be pleasant.” “Have you lost your mind? You have got to be kidding me! What has gotten into you? He replies. Nervous shrug, the wife stutters,
“Nothing!”
Pulling herself together, attempts to get the whole thing off her shoulders, “Look, I, I’ve already been through enough about this while getting my hair done Friday.”
Husband, “Been through what, about the Church? I thought you and the girls from the Church we went to use the same hairdresser and agreed to car pool to the assembly we already chose?”
Wife, “We did, we did, but since the closing of our Church Monday, four ladies from the Pentecostal Church and us three had it out. Tempers began to heat up a couple of times there and I was beginning to wonder where this was going to end up.”, continuing, “but they didn’t shrug us at all and willingly invited our pastor to contact their pastor to touch on those finer points we’ve always been against. Till then, they actually began to concentrate on avoiding argument and begged and insisted we sit with them today and have lunch after church.”
-rna