Don't Stop Laughing Now!Things are going to get a lot worse before they get worse.--- Lily TomlinI try to take one day at a time,but sometimes several days attack me at once.--- Jennifer UnlimitedIf you can't be a good example,then you'll just have to be a horrible warning.--- Catherine AirdInevitably, the funniest stories are usually the ones we tell on ourselves.Sometimes these stories are downright embarrassing. Butonce we put away our punctured pride and dust off our damageddignity, they can become an endless source of amusement. The abilityto laugh at ourselves is surely a sign that all is well with our souls.Psst . . . Has Anyone Seena Table I Can Crawl Under?Humbled by a Pine TreeStan TolerMany years ago, I was privileged to serve as the first pastoralstaff member of John Maxwell at Faith Memorial Church inLancaster, Ohio. John, a noted author, lecturer, and former seniorpastor of the Skyline Wesleyan Church, has been my mentor formore than twenty years. He has guided me in matters of leadership,preaching, evangelism, and church growth. And from time to time,John, who is an excellent golfer, has felt the need to mentor me inthe great game of golf.On one rainy fall day many years ago in Lancaster, I was workingon a project when the intercom buzzer sounded. 'Toler,' thebooming voice of Maxwell said, 'let's play 18!'What a welcome diversion! I thought to myself. In a matter of minutes,we loaded our golf clubs into John's 1972 Ford Pinto and hurriedto the nearby Carrollwood golf course. Since it was rainingsteadily, the course was not crowded and we were able to tee offimmediately.For the first five holes, it appeared that the Maxwell MentoringCourse on golf was working. 'What a great game --- thanks for askingme to come along,' I said to John.As we approached the sixth tee box, I courageously asked Johnto loan me his three-wood. He was proud of his new clubs and mostwilling to share them with his prized pupil. I stepped up to the teebox and took a practice swing. Feeling ready, I swung mightily atthe little white ball.To this day, I don't remember whether I actually hit that ball, butwhat I do remember is the club slipping out of my hands and sailingtwenty feet into the air. Embarrassing? You bet! And if that wasn'thumbling enough, the three-wood landed in a pine tree. Maxwellwas in a state of utter disbelief.'You just threw my new club into a tree!' he cried. 'How onearth are we going to get it down?'Mustering all the confidence I had, I said, 'Give me your shoe.'Obediently, John sat down on the cart and handed me his golf shoe.I carefully aimed his shoe at the club and gave it a mighty heave,expecting it to knock the club out of the pine tree. To my dismay, hisshoe got stuck in the same tree.Undaunted, I said, 'Give me your other shoe.' Again, withoutarguing, John handed his other shoe to me. Taking better aim, Itossed his shoe at the club, and missed again! Can you believe it?The second shoe stayed in the tree also.As the drizzle started to become a downpour, Maxwell stoodup and said, 'Toler, you big dummy! No, wait a minute --- I'm thedummy! Stan, give me your shoe!'In a spirit of cooperation --- and fear --- I took off my shoe andhanded it to him. And why not? He had a three-wood and two golfshoes in that pine tree. Taking careful aim, he threw my shoe at theclub. Up it went, approximately eighteen feet in the air, and missedeverything. Feeling more confident, I picked up my shoe and tossedit at the club. It missed the club, but as it fell downward, it knockedone of John's shoes loose. In the process, however, my shoe got stuckin the tree. John immediately grabbed his shoe that had fallen to theground and clutched it defensively. Now neither of us had a completepair of shoes, and still the golf club was stuck in the tree.By this time, several other golfers had passed the sixth tee,observing this Laurel and Hardy comedy routine. Remarkably,most did not speak or offer to help us. (Can you blame them?)When every effort had failed in retrieving the golf club, myesteemed friend finally climbed the huge pine tree and personallyretrieved the club and our shoes. At that point, it began to thunder,and the rain was coming down even harder. The only thing left to dowas quit for the day and go to the clubhouse for hot chocolate.Feeling embarrassed and helpless, we drove rapidly across thecourse to the clubhouse. As John opened the door, the room becamesilent. And that's when paranoia instantly gripped us. Sure enough,the other golfers had told on us! As we stood in the doorway, laughtererupted like you've never heard.We shut the door, turned right around, and went straight home.And believe me, it was a long time before we played golf there again. Excerpted from Don't Stop Laughing Now!: Stories to Tickle Your Funny Bone and Strengthen Your Faith by Ann Spangler, Shari MacDonald All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
