Welcome brothers and sisters to our service.

Today we talk about something very important to the story.

Evangelism.

How loudly do you love the story?

Do your neighbors know you love the story, or your parents,

your siblings, your job, and your male person? If you do not love the story in public,

the story will deny you in private. The story must be told.

The story must be told.

And now a psalm from our dearest pastor, Andrew.

Please approach the pulpit.

At the hospital, the father lay in his bed, coughing and gasping, and the family ready themselves for what would come next. Though none did guess what it was. I want you, the man said, all of you to make my chest into a candle.

Oh, he was tricky.

The children giggled and the wife she dabbed her eyes.

It was agreed.

Outside the hospital in the woods, the family took turns with a pickax,

then spoons, hollowing out the chest cavity to the tune of the father's screams. The children

poured the wax as the mother held the wick, and it dried as the sun set.

So they lit him, and the father smelled like lemon, lavender.

And now, children, he commanded, dance about me so I might see you as I burn away.

And all the children danced in the light of their father, except for Grutter.

Of course, he was the next candle.

Grutter's waxy body in a glass jar smelled like freshest cardamom.

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