To prepare for my daughter's First Communion, I called the church in the town where we used to live to get a copy of her baptismal certificate.
We lived there for only a short while, so I didn't know the clergy well. When the secretary asked me the name of the father, I told her that I couldn't remember.
After a brief silence, she said, "Ma'am, I'm talking about the name of the baby's father."
Our five-year-old son went to a church conference with my wife and me. He got restless, so my wife handed him a pad and pencil and suggested he mark down every time the speaker said the word "and".
After a while, he grew bored and I asked, "Would you like to listen for a different word?"
"Yes," he whispered. "I'd like to listen for 'Amen'."
The temporary Sunday School teacher was struggling to open a combination lock on the supply cabinet. She had been told the combination, but couldn't quite remember it. Finally, she went to the pastor's study and asked for help.
The pastor came into the room and began to turn the dial. After the first two numbers he paused and stared blankly for a moment. Finally he looked serenely heavenward and his lips moved silently. Then he looked back at the lock, and quickly turned to the final number, and opened the lock.
The teacher was amazed. "I'm in awe at your faith, pastor," she said.
"It's really nothing," he answered. "The number is on a piece of tape on the ceiling."