These set of rules are for die-hard golfers.  These are the rules from a golf club in England during World War 2.  My favorites are rules number 2 and 6.

Golfers are known for their dedication to the game—even during war times. But perhaps the most astonishing evidence of the fact is a document headed "Temporary Rules—1940—Richmond Golf Club, Sudbrook Park, England." It reads:

1. Players are asked to collect the bomb and shrapnel splinters to avoid damage to  the mowing machines.

2. In competition, during gunfire or while bombs are falling, players may take shelter without penalty for ceasing play.

3. The positions of known delayed-action bombs are marked by red flags at a reasonable, but not guaranteed, safe distance therefrom.

4. Shrapnel and/or bomb splinters on the fairways or in bunkers, within a club’s length of a ball, may be moved without penalty, and no penalty shall be incurred if a ball is thereby caused to move accidentally.

5. A ball moved by enemy action may be replaced, or if destroyed, a ball may be dropped not nearer the hole without penalty.

6. A player whose stroke is affected by the simultaneous explosion of a bomb may play another ball. Penalty, one stroke.

—Garden City, N. Y. Golf Club

When I was a sinner, I could have sworn that our pastor picked his sermons based off of how I had lived that past week.  At times I was certain my parents told him what I had been up to.  He came every week with a message prepared just for me…and I left disgusted that he had the gall to preach to me in public instead of addressing it in private.

Then, I got saved and became a pastor.  Only then, did I realize that the Holy Spirit knows what is going on in every person’s life.  Therefore, He speaks, guides and directs me in what I should preach on Sunday morning.  If I am listening to the Lord, the message will be on target.  It will hit home with someone.

The moral of the story is that God knows where you are and what you need to hear.  He will direct someone to speak into your life to meet you where you are.

I read this poem today and thought it was good:

My pastor shapes his sermons
From A to final Z

In clear and forthright language,
And aims them straight at me.

And when he gets to preaching,

I look around to see
If there might be another

Deserving more than me.

But every soul looks saintly
Their hearts to heaven turn

While I, in my conviction,
Can only sit and squirm.

You know, I often wonder
If I should miss a day;

Would he, without his target,
Have anything to say?

-Author Unknown-