When I first moved to Memorial I was 30 and eager to prove to the congregation I had what it took to be "their next great man". They had recently fired the previous preacher and I was bent on impressing all.
It wasn't long until two large sisters responded to one of my mega-powerful pleas for salvation and they were simultaneously moved to be baptized. The first sister fainted once she arose from the grave. The baptistery curtains were already closed and I scrambled trying to figure how to hide the body of the stranger who just now (I believed) had died in my arms. I could not recall us covering this in preaching school. No onlookers would help; each was frozen in stunning shock! Yep, she was dead all right!
Draped over my body, the lady was twice my size and I began to edge her soaked remains toward the steps (I had to dispose of her somehow; yet, she was way too big to hide) as the water began to slosh. In fierce and understandable panic, the noise of sloshing water (I felt) was tipping my hand to the audience on the other side of the curtains that preacher-murder had just been committed. I couldn't keep a simple thing like a baptized woman alive and now I couldn't even keep the fickle water quiet.
Drenched in inconsolable fright, I broke out in uncontrollable laughter because the setting was too much! A dead woman in my arms....I sent her directly to heaven and she never even got to have communion. I felt sure once the elders learned of this lady's death, we'd most assuredly have to have an elder's meeting. I would never be able to explain this one away.
Ultimately, to my great thrill, she came to about ten minutes later. I did baptize her sister next...but not without hesitation....from both of us.
What story do you have to share?