Euodias: Well, Syntyche, how is everything at your house?
Syntyche: Oh, not ideal. Its been hard, having Lydia and the children move back home.
Euodias: I told you when Lydia married that Canaanite that it would never work.
Syntych: I remember your warning, Euodias. But then, I warned you that your son Jebu would never make a living selling sandals.
Euodias: Well, he did better than your son, Zorab, trying to be a tent maker.
Syntyche: You know perfectly well that his artistic hands were too frail to handle that heavy canvas.
Euodias: But not too frail to pick figs from my trees.
Syntyche: He picked up a few of your precious figs that had fallen in our yard!
Euodias: Your yard, my grandfather’s skull cap! Ill have you know…
Discussion: How can we best cope with discord between faithful church members?
Activity: Try to compliment at least three people at church each Sunday.
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