June 29 – “You should never …”

We had an interesting turn of events happen related to the church the other day.  We received a notice that we had to return to using a bang bag to make our deposits.  Now we did that for a long time, and it became a pain in the neck for someone (Yep.  That would often be me) to always have to remember to go by the bank every two weeks to pick them up.  So they allowed us to make the deposit by simply sealing it in a regular envelope.  They then mailed the receipt to us.  Great for us since our financial secretary lives on a goat farm in Santa Fe.  Great for them since our money counter is fastidious (Hah.  Another great word I have never used in real life before) in having everything related to the deposit in perfect order. 

And then came the new order to use bank bags.  Well, we didn’t have them at the church, of course, so I stopped by the bank and picked them up.  No questions asked.  And two weeks later our money counter stopped by to pick them up.  But she was denied because she “wasn’t a signer on the account.”  Well, I had never been so denied before, so I went by to get them.  Besides, most of the time someone working there recognized me as the pastor.  I knew I was in trouble when, first, everyone in the room was new, and second, she pulled out a huge notebook and started obviously looking for something.  She called for help from a colleague.  Between the two of them they discovered what I could have told them when I walked in, “I can’t find your name as a signer on the account.”  I explained that the reason for that difficulty didn’t lie with their abilities or with their filing system.  The plain and simple fact was, “I am not a signer on the account.  Never have been.  Never will be.  I’m just the pastor.  I’m just here to pick up the bags.”  They asked if I had ever done it before.  I gently assured them that over the years I had done it many, many times, and never had I been asked to sign for them.  They countered with a horrified look and the typical attempt to place blame for this terrible breach of security protocol on “whoever allowed that.” 

The manager-type person finally took over and very sweetly informed me that we really didn’t have to use the bank bags at all if we didn’t want to.  In fact, they greatly preferred us doing it the way we were: "in a sealed envelope with everything in perfect order."  Then they could mail us the receipt like they have been doing.  Well, that sounded like a great idea to me, so I told her so, and we agreed that bags were out, sealed envelopes were back in.  That settled, they asked me if I was the new pastor.  It kind of shocked them to hear the 20 years answer.  Oh, and they got in a final little jab at that evil criminal mastermind who had infiltrated their foolproof system to work in their very midst: “You should never have been allowed to pick up the bags.”  Again, my 20 year history of doing it off and on was quite perplexing. 

And the final piece of this chuckle puzzle?  They handed me the bags as I left, saying you can have them and maybe use them to collect offerings or something … just never use them to make your deposit.  Classic.  I think we got it.

Psalms 37:5-6 says, “Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him and he will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.”

Father, help me to trust you enough that my ways get lost in yours.  Amen.