Printer Friendly Version

Ministerially Speaking

By Justine Knight

What Preachers Are Made Of

Some folks think Preachers are made of steel:
Our minds can’t think; our bodies can’t feel.
Iron and steel and a hardwood head,
Preachin’ and prayin’ ‘til we’re nearly dead.

You minister all day, and what do you get?
Another day older and deeper in debt.
You pay your budgets to this and that,
And the rest of the year your wallet’s flat.

I arose one morning; it was cloudy and cool.
Picked up my briefcase, drove my son to school.
I finished my sermon by the end of the ride,
But the response I got nearly made me backslide.

You minister twenty years and what do you get?
Twenty years older and deeper in debt.
St. Peter, don’t call me ‘cause I can’t go,
My district budget’s coming in too slow (ly).

You visit a Sunday School class, and what do you get?
A poor presentation that breaks you out in a sweat.
There are two dear members, but one’s a sorehead.
So you pray for grace and sort of wish you were dead.

Another Sunday School drive, and what do you get?
A snowy Sunday or one that’s wet.
Your rival church beats you; you’re left high and dry.
It’s enough to make an angel—much less a Preacher—sit down and cry.

You plan the Easter offering to see what you can raise;
But the folks just sit there and stare in a gaze.
Makes you wonder where are the heathen—over here or over there.
But you mail your mite to Kansas City, and try to share.

I’ve 26 Sundays and three days to go,
Then comes District Assembly, and I work so slow(ly).
When I make it, then I’ll get a new set of goals,
Plus a brand new kit to plug last year’s holes.

Actually, being a Preacher is not that bad.
Away down deep you feel real glad
To be one of the elite who are called to preach,
And share the “Good News” that men may be reached.

You minister forty years, and what do you get?
A thousand times richer and deeper in debt.
Yes, in debt to the Christ Who made you a king,
And supplies all your needs so you lack not a thing.

I’m gonna’ be a Preacher right down to the end,
Praising my Saviour for deliverance from sin.
I’ll go to St. Peter, but I can’t stay,
I’ve gotta’ be back for camp meeting day.

(paraphrased from the song “Sixteen Tons”, by Merle Travis, performed by Tennessee Ernie Ford)

Justine Knight has spent many years observing the humor and seriousness of ministerial life. She and her husband, Dr. John A. Knight, general superintendent emeritus, make their home in Bethany, Oklahoma.