Cowboy Church
It was cold, winter Sunday. A blizzard was blowing through the small town. The town preacher hurried down to the cold little church building to stoke the fire. The minutes passed by and not a single member came to the service. The preacher waited for nearly an hour.
Soon, the lights of one lone pickup truck shone through the chilly storm. Excitedly the pastor rushed to the door to let in the cold rancher. He shook his hand and greeted him enthusiastically. Then he went to the pulpit.
The old rancher came in and sat on the front row. The preacher chose three songs to sing, having the rancher stand and sit alternately. He said a lengthy, heartfelt prayer. Then he began to preach.
The sermon stretched to thirty minutes, then to forty-five. Before long, the sermon had surpassed an hour! Then the preacher had an invitation. When there was no response, he had another alter call. Then another. At last, he ended the service.
The old rancher stood to make his way back down the aisle. The pastor rushed down the side of the church so that he could shake his hand on the way out.
"Thank you so much for coming," the preacher exclaimed.
The rancher offered him a bewildered look. "Why all of that? It was just me there."
"When you go out to feed, and only one cow comes in, you still feed it, right?" the pastor asked.
"Well yeah," the rancher said, "but not the whole load!"
This story was told in the Datil Cowboy Church. Rewritten by my sister Julia.
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