A New Definition of Grace
Father Diotrophes lost it. His temper just exploded. This prayer group brought out the worst. This time they requested more time for another one of their silly devotions. They think they own the parish. They're only a handful of people and they make more demands than an ambitious bishop.
"Good Grief!" Father Diotrophes slammed the car door so hard, the window almost fell out. Well, if the truth be told, Father's car was an old dinaosaur, any window could have fallen out at any time. Anyway, Father was happy that the engine turned over, so he could drive away from these people.
But as the pastor's car left his driveway, his muffler dropped down to the ground and started dragging along the street.
"Oh No!" The prayer group appealed to God. As if one organism, the group raised their arms and voices in supplication. "Oh Lord, save our pastor."
While the group was beseeching the Almighty, the prayer group leader, hopped into his own car and followed the pastor's car.
Meanwhile, Father Diotrophes was oblivious to the danger of having a muffler dragging. Sparks were flying off the pipe dangerously close to the car's gas tank. Passerbys were trying to signal to the priest that something was wrong, but he didn't understand. If the truth be told, he was still too upset over that sniveling prayer group. They make him feel so guilty, but they're always upsetting the parish's peaceful routine. They're always planning one outrageous thing or another. Why can't they just pray? Why can't they be quiet? Why ...
Father Diotrophes looked in his rear view mirror. "Oh no" "It's him!" He couldn't believe it. He pulled the car over to the shoulder on the road. He slammed the door again, and again the window almost fell out.
He started to walk over to the prayer group leader's car, when he felt himself being lifted off the ground and flying.
Father Diotrophes landed on his knees. And he stayed there because when he looked back at the source of the noise and force, he saw the back part of his car in flames. His fuel tank had exploded.
In slow motion, the priest not only felt the presence of God, but the manly hug of the prayer group leader. Father's ears were ringing, but he thinks he heard him praying in a strange tongue. It probably was some kind of charismatic throw back language. You never know with these people. But the praying could have been the priest, himself. Deo Gratias.