Late one Saturday night, after a long and difficult day of visiting hospitals, nursing homes and elderly members of the congregation, a Southern Baptist preacher was making his weary way home. As he traveled the hilly, curving country road, he overtook a car. The slow moving car was weaving from one side of the road to the other in a most disturbing manner. Being familiar with most residents of the area he recognized the car as belonging to a member of his congregation.

"Oh no," said the preacher to himself, "Frank Johnson has fallen off the wagon again. The way that car is weaving, he must be really plastered. I better pull up beside him and get him to stop before he hurts himself."

Putting thought to action, the preacher pulled along side Frank's car just in time for the next swerve to run him off the road. Over the shoulder, down a steep bank, the preacher's car rolled over twice and came to rest against a large pine tree. Not completely senseless to the world, Frank stopped his car and staggered back to a point above the preacher's car.

Fortunately, the preacher had been using a seat belt. That and the relatively slow speed had prevented any injury. When Frank saw someone struggling out of the wrecked car, he yelled, "Who the hell are you?"

The preacher yelled back, "Frank Johnson, don't you talk to me like that."

"My God preacher, that you?"

"Yes Frank, it is, and I'll thank you not to take the Lord's name in vain. It's already bad enough that you're drunk."

"You OK preacher?"

"Yes Frank, fortunately the Lord was with me."

"You better let him ride with me. Way you drive, you gonna kill him."