There was a painter named Wayne who was very interested in making a
Penny where he could, so he often thinned down his paint to make it go a wee
bit further.
As it happened, he got away with this for some time, but eventually the
Baptist Church decided to do a big restoration job on one of their
Biggest buildings. Wayne put in a bid, and, because his price was so low, he
got
the job. So he set about erecting the scaffolding and setting up the
planks, and buying the paint and, yes, I am sorry to say, thinning it
down with turpentine.
Well, Wayne was up on the scaffolding, painting away, the job nearly
completed, when suddenly there was a horrendous clap of thunder, the sky
opened, and the rain poured down washing away the thinned paint from all
over the church and knocking Wayne clear off the scaffold to land on the
lawn among the gravestones, surrounded by telltale puddles of the
Thinned and useless paint.
Wayne was no fool. He knew this was a judgment from the Almighty, so he
got down on his knees and cried: "Oh, God, forgive me. . . . . . what should I
do?"
And from the thunder, a mighty voice spoke. . .
(you're going to love this). . . . . .
"Repaint! Repaint! And thin no more!"
