I’d certainly like to chime in about the US Postal Service decision to stop Saturday home delivery, pending Congressional approval, of course. To hear some people tell it, one would think their whole world is going to come crashing down around them without mail on Saturdays. Personally, I’d be satisfied with home delivery on Saturdays, only. All I ever get in my mailbox 6 days a week is junk-mail, which doesn’t even make it inside the house much less get opened and inspected. Competitive advertizing, via snail mail, at the cheapest rates possible, mingled with a few monthly billings, is about all I ever expect to see in my mailbox. Mister Postmaster, do the environment, and me, a big favor. Quit raising my postal rates forcing me to go elsewhere with my business, that’s bad business. Raise the rates on the guys that are stuffing our landfills with tons of paper every day. Why is the consumer always the bad guy? Why is the guy with the least money always the guy who has to pay to clean up the mess? First class has its priorities, but Saturdays ought to be everybody’s day off.
Little Eddie wasn’t getting good marks in school. One day he surprised his teacher with an announcement. He said, “I don’t want to scare you, but my daddy says if I don’t start getting better grades real soon, someone is going to get a spanking.”
A village preacher, known for his weakness for trout, preached against fishing on Sunday. The next day one of his members presented him with a fine string of fish and said, hesitantly, “I guess I aught to tell you, preacher, that those trout were caught on Sunday.” The minister hesitated, gazed appreciatively at the speckled trout and then said piously as he reached for the catch, “The fish aren’t to blame for that.”
An elderly lady was very angry because she hadn’t been invited to the picnic all her friends were going to. On the morning of the event the hostess relented and told her to come. “It’s too late!” she snapped. “I’ve already prayed for rain!”
Two-year-old Tommy was watching his mother bake cookies. “Please, may I have one?” he asked hopefully. “Not before supper” his mother replied. Tearfully, Tommy ran to his room. A short time latter he reappear with this message, “Jesus told me it’s okay for me to have a cookie now.” His mother retorted, “Well, Jesus didn’t tell me!”
[2 Corinthians 11:16-31] “…Five times I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, I have been constantly on the move. I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from the Gentiles, in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea and in danger from false brothers. …I have known hunger and thirst and often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.” Paul disliked boasting about his perils and only did it to question the sincerity of, and to expose, false apostles teaching a different gospel. We live in a country of “me-ism” where blame is the name of the game. We all want to blame someone or something for the problems of our world. Some are blaming guns. Some are blaming the government. Some are blaming God. It’s interesting that Paul didn’t look to blame anybody, but leaned on the Lord instead. I don’t advocate rolling over and giving up. Measure your lifestyle with God’s Word and if it means something to God, fight for it. Otherwise, “Indiana; let it go.”
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