Description
Shipwreck
Acts 27.33-44
We were already horribly late for the service. It was nobody’s fault, really; the traffic had been far, far worse than anyone could have imagined. I had phoned through and told people how it was, but it was really important, still, that we got there as quickly as we could.
We got into the town and approached the church. I was counting every second, thinking all the time where things would have got to, how long it would take to change into my robes, how I could adjust my sermon to weave in a wry apology. (This, by the way, is the stuff of clergy nightmares. But sometimes it really happens like this.) Nearly there now. There was the church, looming up in the distance. It was a strange town, and the friend who was driving (also a clergyman) and I hadn’t been there before, but we had been told, in classic fashion, ‘You can’t miss it.’ Well, we couldn’t and there it was. But . . . the street between us and it, a matter of 30 yards or so, was a one-way street. In the wrong direction. ‘Never mind,’ I said, claiming privilege of clergy over traffic rules; there was nobody about, everything was quiet, we could see the church gate just there . . .
Taken from Acts for Everyone Part 2 by Tom Wright