I realize I have probably said this before, but I really think I have found the best, most hilarious book ever written!

I'm sitting here laughing out loud as I read Mathew Paul Turner's CHURCHED: One kid's journey toward God despite a holy mess. The Lord is so good to me. He always places resources in my lap at just the right time. I find it no coincidence that I just finished preaching: holly mess.

Here's a little taste that had me rolling on the floor...

During Pastor Nolan's sermon, I realized something about him: God had created him without a noticeable neck. From my vantage point, it looked as though his bald head sat atop his shoulders like a bowling ball...

A few weeks later, while riding home from church, I leaned forward and stuck my head on the front seat between my father and mother. "I have a question."

My mother looked at me with raised eyebrows, signaling interest.

"Does Pastor Nolan have a neck?"

I got the impression my mother didn't think my question was appropriate.

"That's an awful thing to even suggest, Matthew. He might be really self-conscious about that. That could be his thorn in the flesh."

"His what?"

"His fleshly thorn; it's in the Bible." Mom flipped through her navy blue King James Bible, the only Bible Pastor Nolan approved for the people at IBBC. "The apostle Paul wrote about it in his letter to the, um..." Her voice trailed off as she tried to remember if Paul had written about his personal thorn to the people of Corinth or Thessalonica. She searched her Bible, putting her finger down in random spots and running it across the pages like she was reading Braille. "Or did he mention it in one of his letters to Timothy? Virgil, do you remember?" She looked at my father, who had one hand on the steering wheel and the other hanging out the window, randomly pointing at people he knew or thought he knew. "Virgil?"

"Did who mention what?" asked my father, oblivious to the conversation happening a foot away from his ear.

"Didn't you hear anything we were talking about? Matthew thinks Pastor Nolan doesn't have a neck!"

"Well, he doesn't have much of a neck," said my father. "I thought it was because he wore big collars, but then I saw the boy in a T-shirt. No neck."

"I know that," said my mother slowly, talking through her teeth, only moving her lips slightly. She did this amateur ventriloquist act because she didn't want me to know that she wondered the same thing. My mother wasn't fond of exposing weaknesses in front of her kids. This was especially true on Sundays.

"I was trying to explain to Matthew that maybe, on the remote chance the preacher actually does lack a neck" - she looked at me - "and I'm not saying he does. But if that were true, it could be his personal thorn. You know, something that might torment him when he's alone, looking in the mirror. It's not polite to mock somebody's spiritual burden. I certainly wouldn't want somebody mocking mine."

"Oh, it's hardly his thorn in the flesh, hon," my father said, looking at my mother with the same look he gave foreigners who ran gas stations when they asked if he wanted paper or plastic. "It's not like the man is incapable of turning his head. You're making him sound like a cripple. His chin just sits too close to his shoulders. But he doesn't need healing."

"I wasn't suggesting he was a cripple." My mother sighed audibly. "I only brought you into the conversation because I thought you might remember where the apostle Paul mentioned his thorn in Scripture. I guess I should have kept my mouth closed."

My father stuck his hand back out the window and pointed at some old man who was fat, shirtless, and mowing his lawn. Mom suddenly became interested in the cornfield on her side.

Melanie piped up. "We just came from church!"

"And," said Mom, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, it means we shouldn't be arguing about God after we just left God's house."

Nobody said anything for a few minutes.

"So, can I ask one more question?" I stuck my head between my parents' shoulders again. "Did the apostle Paul have a neck or not?"

My mother looked at me. It wasn't a mean look, just the kind that assured me the apostle Paul indeed had a neck and mine was in jeopardy if I didn't sit back and stop asking questions...

"A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones."

Proverbs 17:22 (KJV)