CHRIST IN WINTER:
Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter
Art Poovey was the grayest
man I ever knew. Every day, he wore a gray suit, gray shirt, gray tie, gray
sox, gray shoes. He was a Lutheran theology professor at Wartburg Seminary.
We were at the same lunch
table one day, chili day. On the table was a rather large bowl of chili powder.
Art took the spoon out of the communal bowl of chili powder and upended said
bowl over his own bowl of chili, until the chili was covered by a mound of
chili powder.
He saw the rest of us
staring at him.
“Oh, this is nothing,” he
said. “I pastored a church in San Anotnio when I was young and learned to eat
it this way.”
Never assume that just
because a man is old and gray, that there is no fire in his belly.
JRMcF
johnrobertmcfarland@gmail.com
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