A man in coveralls entered the church office. "Hello, Mary Beth. Where is the pastor?"

 "Oh, hello, Dick. Pastor Boyd went out to visit the new fella."

 "Still trying to get him in church, eh?" Dick chuckled.

 "Yeah, you know Pastor Boyd. He doesn't give up easily."

 "Well, fine. I'll just come around later, Mary Beth."

 "Fine, Dick. Tell Nan hello for me."

 "Will do."

 The two men stood looking down at the newly planted impatiens. One, a gentleman of sixty, brushed dirt from his hands as he said, "I would like to invite you in, Reverend Boyd, but I'm expecting my son at any moment. He's--"

 "Oh, quite all right. That's quite all right. I really have only a moment to chat. I have to go visit Mrs. Parker, who has been so very despondent since the death of her husband. So sudden and unexpected. And finding all that pornography among his personal effects certainly did not help her state of mind any."

 "I imagine not," said the gentleman.

 "But say, several up at church have been wondering when you could visit our services. Have you ever made a public profession of faith?"

 "I'm not sure I understand your meaning," the gentleman said slowly.

 "Well, you know, walked the aisle and joined a church. Have you ever been saved?" pressed the pastor.

 "Oh, yes. The Lord has been a faithful friend to me for many years. Sometimes the only one I had. When I was in--"

 "Well, then, if that's the case, you need to be a member of a local body of believers. 'Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together,' you know. You need the fellowship of other Christians."

 "I quite agree," said the gentleman.

 "And you need to be serving the Lord as well. We have many opportunities for service in our congregation."

 The gentleman paused. "There is not a morning that goes by when I don't awaken with gratitude to my Benefactor for a new day."

 The pastor quickly noted, "Feeling grateful is good, my friend, as long as it's followed up by action. 'Faith without works is dead.' Now, you take old Murray. He comes every Sunday and sits in the same pew and listens and then goes home and that's it! He's been soaking up wisdom from the pulpit week after week for years, and not once has he ever helped usher or teach a class or mow the grass. Now I ask you, is a man like that saved?"

 "I'm sure that is a question for the Lord," the gentleman said firmly.

 "Well, certainly it is, but 'By their fruits ye shall know them.' We're not called to judge, but we have to be fruit inspectors, don't we?" asked Pastor Boyd.

 The other was silent, then noted as he looked over the newly planted flowers, "Fruit comes in many varieties."

 "Well, yes, but it needs to be there. Have you prayed about what the Lord would have you do?"

 "I feel fairly sure of what the Lord would have me do," the gentleman responded. He bent to position the trickling hose over another part of the bed.

 "Now, I'm not talking about planting flowers," the pastor laughed. "I'm talking about service to the church."

 "It seems to me that as the church consists of the redeemed through the ages and around the world, service to such is not easily defined," said the gentleman.

 "But we're to serve the Lord through the local body of believers," the pastor emphasized. At this point a car pulled up to the curb and a young man with a briefcase got out. The gentleman's stolid face relaxed into a smile.

 "Now have you prayed about how the Lord would have you serve?" the pastor insisted, determined to hold his attention on this crucial question despite distractions.

 Neglecting to answer, the gentleman stepped around the watering hose to greet the young man. Not content to shake his hand, the man embraced his father, who responded. The pastor waited for them to disconnect, but they carried on as if they hadn't seen each other in years. Finally, even "Bulldog" Boyd recognized the end of today's opportunity. "I see I must leave. But before I go, I want you to promise me that you'll l pray about this. Just promise me you'll pray about what the Lord would have you do in regard to service to Him."

 The gentleman turned with an unreadable expression, his arm still around the young man. "I pray constantly," he said. The pastor took this as acquiescence, nodded, and left.

 The younger man watched him go. "Who was that?"

 His father laughed, "The local pastor. He feels I need to be serving the Lord."

 "Does he know you've been a medical missionary to West Africa for the past twenty-eight years?" the son asked incredulously.

 "No, but somehow I feel that it wouldn't matter. Forget it," the gentleman shrugged.

 "Okay. I brought the tax forms you asked for. Let's go on in and see if we can figure out what you owe." Arm in arm, father and son went into the house.

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