Subtracting digits…

I did something that I’ll bet nobody reading this has ever done. I cut off my finger…at church. I was a little kid, three or four, and I was in a church classroom with other kids my age on a Sunday night. We were taking turns singing our favorite songs. When it was my turn, I stood before the class, singing, “It ain’t gonna rain no more, no more, it ain’t gonna rain no more. How in the heck can I wash my neck when it ain’t gonna rain no more.” Maybe not a sacred song to you, but...
As I sang, I leaned on a small, child-sized table. In those less-litigious days of lead paint, asbestos siding and DDT, the table had a silver metal strip around the edge. I leaned too hard, the table fell forward, and the metal strip sheared off the tip of my left ring finger. Someone went to find my parents while I was picked up and taken to the bathroom. They washed my hand, wrapped a towel around it, and gave me my fingertip to hang onto. Off to the emergency room we dashed, where the errant digit was reattached. But I have never played the violin since that day.
Okay, I never played the violin before that, either; it’s an old joke. My finger recovered pretty well; it’s not quite as fully-rounded as the other finger tips, but it’s never been a problem.
“So what’s the moral, Mike?” I hear you asking. Hmm. Never lean on a table while singing? No, that’s no good. Keep your fingers close at hand? (Sorry.)
How about this? Even in the most serene, holy settings, real life can intrude with startling suddenness. Even in a “sanctuary,” there can be pain and suffering as easily as there can be peace and contentment. There’s a story in the New Testament about a guy who fell out the window during prayer meeting and died! Church is not necessarily a place to escape our troubles. It’s a place to find healing, a place to be comforted, a place where people will come running to help.
It’s a good place to be. Take a tip from me. (Sorry again.)