I’m taking a little down time this week, including a brief blogging break. Meanwhile, I’m reaching back into the archives for posts that even I forgot I’d written. (Feel free to insert your own “forgettable” burn here.) This post originally appeared in February 2010.
The scene: last Sunday, the Summit’s 12:30 service. We’re roughly three minutes into the message, and I’m sitting four rows back, right center section, settling in for Pastor J.D.’s weekly tirade against lasik surgery. Or proclamation of the gospel. Whatever.
And then, out of nowhere…drip.
I feel water hit my shoulder and splatter on to my head (the bald spot, specifically. Shut up.). Three distinct possibilities immediately came to mind:
- My favorite Spitting Pastor has struck again. And with such reach, this time. I’m sitting 25 feet away, for golly’s sake!
- The guy on camera #2 (sitting just above and behind me) has a cold.
- The roof is leaking.
As much as I wanted to ignore possibility #3 – we were going to be discussing buying this leaky rat trap the next night, after all – it became very obvious that it was indeed the roof. And at this point, the escape plan wasn’t quite clear, because:
- It was directly above my head (dumb luck? micro-judgment from God? I may never know),
- there was no open seat on either side (except for a seat with a “reserved for greeters” sign, and if I sat there I might have to – gasp! – greet somebody),
- I was currently sitting beside my 13 year old, so a sudden move could communicate loss of father love, and,
- 300 fellow worshippers were behind me, so I couldn’t necessarily pull out my emergency poncho.
And so, I endured the rest of the service with the every-three-minute-drip.
And at the end of the service, when Fellow Worship Guy was no more and End of Service Announcement Guy resurrected, he had quite the unusual pit stains not under his pits, but on his shoulder.
But hey, at least it wasn’t option #2. Camera-guy nasal leak on top of my head is not my thing. You may think it’s funny, but itsnot.