On one particular Sunday, the pastor was giving a sermon on the importance of everyone giving their tithes and offerings. He went on to challenge the people to give enthusiastically because 2 Corinthians 9:7 says in it that "God loves a cheerful giver."
As the plate was passed, a little boy in the second pew, quickly slipped off his neck tie and placed it into the offering plate. His mother, somewhat embarrassed, asked him what he thought he was doing.
The boy replied, "The pastor said put your ties in the offering plate and do it joyfully. So I did!"
A tired minister was at home resting, and through the window he saw a woman approaching his door. She was one of those too-talkative people, and he was not anxious to talk with her. He said to his wife, "I'll just duck upstairs and wait until she goes away."
An hour passed, then he tiptoed to the stair landing and listened ... not a sound. He was very pleased, so he started down calling loudly to his wife, "Well, my Dear, did you get rid of that old bore at last?"
The next moment he heard the voice of the same woman, and she couldn't possibly have missed hearing him. Two steps down, he saw them both staring up at him. It seemed truly a crisis moment.
The quick-thinking minister's wife answered, "Yes, Dear, she went away over an hour ago. But Mrs. Jones has come to call in the meantime, and I'm sure you'll be glad to greet her."
A Quaker farmer was milking his cow when she switched him in the face with her tail. He patiently said, "Cow, thou shalt not do that."
He kept milking until she kicked and sent the half-filled milk pail tumbling across the barn, spilling and ruining the milk. The farmer went around to face the cow and took her horns in his big, calloused hands.
He looked at her and said, "Cow, thou knowest that I am a Quaker and that I cannot strike thee. But cow, thou also must also remember that I can sell thee."
Having grown up just outside New York City, I barely knew a cow from an ear of corn. Until, that is, I married a small town Ohio girl.
While I was in seminary school, I had a temporary assignment at a church in a rural community. The day of my first sermon, I tried very hard to fit in. Maybe too hard.
With my wife sitting in the first pew, I began my discourse, "I never saw a cow until I met my wife."