Woe to me, Paul said...
Illustration
"Woe to me," Paul said, "if I do not preach the gospel." What a heavy sense of necessity laid on him. Clearly the gospel, when it gets beneath our skin, bursts to get out again.
When I gave my wife her engagement ring, we were sitting on a park bench beside the Mississippi River across from the University of Minnesota. Within the half hour I was on my way out of the city, and she was returning to her dormitory room at nursing school. The one who gave the ring to her was no longer there to share the meaning of that ring with her, and what it would mean for the future. But she had a dormitory full of friends to tell. The news spread up and down the halls like wildfire. There was shrieking in the elevator. Good news. She couldn't keep it to herself.
Woe to us if we do not preach the gospel.
When I gave my wife her engagement ring, we were sitting on a park bench beside the Mississippi River across from the University of Minnesota. Within the half hour I was on my way out of the city, and she was returning to her dormitory room at nursing school. The one who gave the ring to her was no longer there to share the meaning of that ring with her, and what it would mean for the future. But she had a dormitory full of friends to tell. The news spread up and down the halls like wildfire. There was shrieking in the elevator. Good news. She couldn't keep it to herself.
Woe to us if we do not preach the gospel.
