Following the Master


Following the Master

One summer Sunday morning I sat with the other members of the church choir behind the minister's pulpit. My five-year-old son, Chuckie, sat beside me.

During prayer I felt something rub against my leg. Looking down, I saw Chuckie's little dog, Skippy, who must have followed us, and finding the church doors wide open, came in. I placed my hand on the puppy's head, and he lay quietly at my feet unnoticed by the others.

All went well until the choir rose to sing. Then the puppy wandered over to the pulpit and began sniffing all about. I leaned down to my son and whispered for him to leave by the side aisle, certain that Skippy would follow him. The puppy, peeping through the spokes in the prayer rail watched Chuckie go until he reached the door. Then, putting his front paws on the prayer rail, and with a joyful yip, he leaped the rail and bounded down the aisle to follow Chuckie home.

My embarrassment was quickly relieved when our kindly, elderly pastor smiled and said to the startled congregation, "Would that we were all so eager to follow our Master."