The Littlest Twig

twig_fruitTragedy came to the Rasmussin family a few weeks ago during a typical summer thunderstorm, the likes of which we annually survive as residents of Gazingstock, MO. In this case, an old rotted mulberry tree in the yard came crashing through the roof of the Rasmussin home during a particularly violent wind gust. Mr. Rasmussin was injured during the collapse when a large branch slammed upon his bed, narrowly missing Mrs. Rasmussin as she slept. Mr. Rasmussin was rescued by firemen from the nearby station and transported to St. Francis hospital in Maryville with a leg fracture and extensive contusions.

The reason the League of Tyndale knows about this incident is that the Rasmussins’ elderly neighbor, Nathalie Doorlag, called to solicit our help. Knowing that the fallen tree would need to be removed (and this not being the responsibility of the city or county), she inquired as to whether or not the men of the League might be able to tend to this problem pro bono. We said we were surely disposed to do so, and would dispatch a volunteer chainsaw unit to resolve the issue as a testament to Ephesians 2:10.

Later that day, the task was skillfully completed by our dedicated crew and we gave all glory to God.

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When Dogs Fly

The town of Gazingstock has rarely been in the national spotlight of media attention, which has surely been a blessing of untold worth, though it wasn’t that long ago that The Kansas City Star made brief mention of our very own Clarissa Thornmockle, who had grown a decent-sized Red Brandywine tomato that bore the uncanny likeness of Millard Fillmore, our country’s 13th president. Apparently Clarissa was poised for a guest appearance on “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson” when tragedy struck. Her husband, Ed had made himself a BLT sandwich for lunch and Millard Fillmore was, as The Kansas City Star later reported, “delicious.”

Last week, however, a much bigger story broke out from the town grapevine that Petey Butterworth, a simple but sweet fellow who hauls Gazingstock’s trash out to the city dump, had uncovered an ancient biblical fragment that purported to contain a new controversial teaching not found in our current canon of Scripture. The controversial text, scrawled in what Petey characterized as “some kind of hieroglyphical Israelite Sanskrit mystery language,” appeared to read, “Jesus said, My dog is in heaven.”

Well, the town and the nearby chapter of the ASPCA was abuzz. No one even questioned how Petey, who barely graduated Mrs. Bott’s sixth grade class, might also describe this strange foreign text as “somewhat readable.”

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A New Chapter

…The day of the Lord will come as a thief in the night; in the which the heavens shall pass away with a great noise, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat, the earth also and the works that are therein shall be burned up. Seeing then that all these things shall be dissolved, what manner of persons ought ye to be in all holy conversation and godliness…? — 2 Peter 3:10-11

The question before us is a sobering one, dear reader. The whole of this world in which you presently find enjoyment and amusement will soon dissolve. Vanish. Kaput. Considering this, what manner of person ought you to be? Think greatly upon this truth and perhaps you will be confronted with how deeply you have entrenched yourself in the world for your pleasure, comfort, and ease. I have certainly been convicted by this realization.

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