Dear Man In The Blue Shirt,
You really distracted me yesterday. I tried really, really hard to look away while you gnawed your fingers during the entire sermon. Since you and I held the same pew spot on the very edge of packed pews, you were directly in front of me. The sermon was on helping the helpless, with a great text out of John. I was into it - I wanted to be into it - but your crazed nail biting, fervent knuckle gnawing, and constant cuticle examination led me to think on other things.
Like how to make you stop. Blue Shirt Man, have you ever watched Dog Whisperer? I thought maybe I could 'snap you out of it' Caesar style. If I just bumped you with my Bible, maybe that would redirect you. What if I coughed suddenly and loudly, just behind your ear? What if - what if I just tapped you on the shoulder and politely told you the truth? Would I be serving you well by speaking the truth in LOVE?
"Sir, I'm so sorry to interrupt your worship, but please, please could you save your nail biting for the ride home? You see, I can't seem to hear from the Lord while you are working away at biting your own fingers off right in front of me. And I am sorry to feel so regretful to have shaken hands with you during the greeting time..."
Your Pew Pal