Sometimes I feel a little twinge when I tell a story on a friend. Will he be embarrassed? Will he hate me? I justify it by giving him a complimentary copy of this book. Egotistical, I know, but if he doesn’t like it, he can always take it to the flea market and sell it for a couple bucks.

PETE AT THE ALTAR CALL

The Lord works in mysterious ways.

Pete is one of the pillars of any community. He works hard at a hard job, then volunteers his time for civic and church projects. He and his family are musical as well, and share their talent generously. Pete is also devout and regularly attends the Baptist Church.

The spearhead, bomb site, bull’s-eye, yea, even the purpose of a Baptist church service is the altar call. The chance to accept Christ and be saved. It is also a time for those already in the fold to come forward and renew their vows or pray.

Pete had been working the late shift and pouring concrete on the side. He was doin’ his best, but it was wearin’ him out. During the altar call, he felt the need to seek guidance.

He stepped out into the aisle and came forward. After acknowledging the preacher, Pete knelt beside the podium and began silently praying. He prayed through the first verse. Then the second. The third, and finally the fourth stanza of “Softly and Tenderly.” The preacher glanced discreetly to his side to see Pete kneeling—more accurately, slumping, in prayer.

The reverend indicated for the song leader to continue singing, so great was his respect for this righteous brother. The congregation changed to “Jesus I Come” and began again. Granted, some in the crowd were fidgeting.

Somewhere during the course of verse four, one of Pete’s kids slipped to the front and shook her dad’s shoulder. So deep was his peace, he had fallen sound asleep shortly after kneeling and melted into an unapproved cross-legged lotus position. Pete stirred, looked up like a deer in the headlights, and attempted to stand. With a self-conscious nod to the preacher, he stumbled back down the aisle, lurching from side to side, grasping, then shoving off from pew to pew. He fell into the seat beside his wife as the organ hummed its last note.

Pete doesn’t remember the singing much, but he has a distinct memory of being alarmed that he must have been struck by some mysterious crippling illness for his irreverence. Of having no sensation below the knees.

It was only when he glanced at his feet, as he pinballed down the aisle, that he noticed he was walking on the sides of his shoes, leaving tracks like a seasick roller-blading orangutan.

However, he was pleased with himself in retrospect that he had remembered to wipe the drool off the altar step below his chin before rising.