The church sure has changed since I was ordained. Back then we had no children’s church as its known today. When I was in knee pants children’s church was: “Sit still or I’ll make you sorry for your sins.”

Back then the preacher visited a lot. I know when I was a bachelor circuit rider, I’d visit every day, usually just prior to suppertime.

“Come on in, preacher. We were just about to sit down to eat. Will you join us?”

“I don’t want to impose,” I’d say taking in the sight of those gastronomic delights covering the table.

“You’re not imposing at all.”

“Well, I’d say, “if you insist.”

In those days there was no required standard for the parsonage. That was just as well because a couple of abodes were devoid of standards.

There were no females in the pulpit. Aside from the Augusta National Golf Club, the pulpit may have been the last bastion of masculine dominance. A woman could aspire to be a Director of Christian Education but no further. Things have changed.

The church is better for this, to be sure, but some folks have experienced a hard time adapting to these changing mores. I heard of one particular struggle to confront the phenomenon of women in the pulpit.

The search committee for a particular church announced they had a candidate they wanted to recommend. Then the committee informed the church this highly qualified candidate was a woman. Well, there was a bit of discussion and then the vote was taken. Everyone voted in favor of calling the female to serve as their pastor, everyone, that is, except one old man.

The holdout was a bit against women being given such a position in general, but more specifically he opposed a woman for another reason. It had been his custom through the last five or six tenures to invite the pastor to go fishing with him. If a woman was called he’d be turned away from that particular enjoyment.

The committee, however, had recommended and the church had voted. The pastor was to be female.

When she arrived everyone greeted her with their usual accustomed congeniality. The fishing member withheld his judgment for the time being.

After a few weeks there the holdout called the pastor. “I wanted to call,” he said, “because it’s been my practice to invite my pastor to go fishing with me from time to time. In fairness I wanted to extend an invitation to you.”

He was surprised to hear her accept. On the decided day and time he ran by the parsonage to pick her up and they headed for their fist fishing endeavor together. The fisherman had rowed twenty minutes across the lake when she informed him she’d left her rod and tackle box back at his truck. He told her not to worry she could use his. She did so and almost immediately got his line hung so tightly on some bushes it broke. He offered to row back to get her equipment. She refused to let him.

“I’ll get it,” she said. And then she just got out of the boat and walked across the water back toward the truck.

The fisherman’s cell phone rang when she was halfway to the far shore. His friend was calling to ask how things were going.

“Not too well,” said the fisherman. “She’s not too good on fishing and apparently she can’t swim either.”