Picture if you will a serene Sunday morning with a gentle breeze blowing, the sun shining and the spring air as crisp as a cold apple. Down in the glen sits clapboard sided church, its two front doors propped open as the folks gather to sing praises and worship the Lord. The pastor stands in the vestibule greeting the families as they enter. Then !!! A brilliant flash of lightning and the acrid stench of Sulphur burning and there in the isle stands the Devil himself. Mothers and fathers are grabbing their children, rushing to get out of the building any way they can, folks jumping over pews to make it a door or window farther away from the spectacle unfolding in the isle. Finally, the smoke clears and three people are revealed left in the tiny sanctuary. The Devil resplendent in his black robes, the pastor in his shirt-sleeves and sitting calmly by is an old farmer, with a wisp of a wheat stalk hanging from his lower lip.

The Devil rises up and points his bony finger at the pastor and bellows, ?I know why you are here. You preach against me all week long?. Then he turns and addresses the farmer and says, ?Why are you still here?? The farmer slowly turns to face the evil and taking the wheat straw from his mouth says ?You don?t recognize me, but 30 years ago I married your sister.?