Should we text the teachings of our pastors?

Vernon Lindstrom rose from his seat on the stage of Willow River Evangelical Free Church and took his place behind the mammoth pulpit. He wasn't fond of the pulpit. He wasn't a small man, but he felt as if the oak monstrosity was going to come alive and close around him like the Sarlacc did Boba Fett.

He couldn't tell anyone this, however. For one thing, shortly before he'd arrived at Willow River, the church had split…uh…planted a new congregation because the interim pastor's wife had bought new Christmas lights. For another thing, half the church wouldn't know what he was talking about and the other half would immediately argue over whether the pulpit resembled a Sarlaac or an Exogorth.

As Myra followed the other worship members off the stage and into the pews, Vern prayed a quick "thanks" that the church had accepted her djembe playing with minimal fuss. It didn't hurt that her mom, Sue Ellen Swenson, was the women's ministry leader. Or that her older sister, Tylyr, had graduated from Manhattan Christian College in Manhattan, Kansas, and gone to work for an internet ministry.

Vern called the deacons to take their places for the offering and gave the pastoral prayer. Finally, he settled in to his sermon.

He was just getting into his second point on the four-verse passage when he happened to glance at Myra and realized she hadn't looked up the entire sermon. Once again, she was bent over her phone, thumbs blazing. Vern had no illusions about his preaching style or its ability to hold the attention of teenagers. But she was a member of the worship team and the vice president of the youth group leadership council. It might do for him to have a word with her mom about setting a good example.

Sermon finished, Vern began a final prayer designed to be just long enough for the worship team to miraculously appear on the stage. He opened one eye and saw that as Myra rushed down the side aisle, she was still on her phone, only pocketing it when she sat at her drum.

Half an hour later, when only a few stragglers roamed the sanctuary picking up abandoned bulletins and cough-drop wrappers, Vern found Myra standing by her mother.

"Ladies, so nice to see you this Sunday," Vern said. He needed to be delicate; he couldn't afford to alienate either one of them if Willow River was to keep a robust women's ministry and a worship team that stayed on tempo.

"I was just wondering, Myra, what was so interesting on your phone?"

To Vern's surprise, Myra broke into a big smile, "Oh, I was texting my friend Kirsten Holland. She lives out at Dorsey, twenty miles from the nearest church. When she can't make it into Hemingford, I text her your sermons."

"The whole sermon?" Vern blushed and swallowed hard. "Well, that's fine!"

"Pastor Vern, I was thinking," Myra said. "We used to stream the service during the quarantine, and I was thinking we could do it again. I have the equipment—the camera and stuff—and I could show Libby how to do it. Then the folks stuck on their farms could watch and I wouldn't have to text your teaching."

Sue Ellen gave Vern a sly smile that turned him even redder; she'd known all along what he'd thought. They made plans to meet later in the week, and Vern walked them to the door.

Just as Vern had turned around to go to his office and find his keys, Tylyr walked through the entry to the sanctuary, hands filled with leftover Highlights magazines.

"Pastor Vern, do you have a moment?" she asked.

"Of course, Tylyr. What's on your mind?"

"Well, on point two of your sermon, chapter 8, verse 4, I was just wondering. Was that Greek tense a passive pluperfect indicative or an imperfect middle optative? Because it changes the entire meaning of the parable."

Vern laughed and raised a hand to his forehead. "Honestly, Tylyr, biblical Greek was a long time ago. Maybe you can help me with that."

"I'd love to," Tylyr said. "I just don't want you to think I just sit around and test my pastor's teaching."

"I welcome it," Vern said. "Somebody's got to make sure the pastor doesn't make a fool of himself!"

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