Some of them fret so much that their agony spills over into Sunday morning, where they will verbally flog parishioners until some decide to stop going to church.

Yes, there are people who become so sick of clergy slugfests taking over the sermon time during the summer that they stay home, read the paper in the back yard and drink gourmet coffee.

But another group of people must be confronted: those who stay home because the weather is hot, muggy and miserable. These people have become the bane - not the blessing - of the Christian church. In fact, entire congregations are controlled by these wimpy people who can't drop a few pellets of sweat without embarrassment.

These people sit in church on beastly hot Sunday mornings with frowns on their faces, wrinkled brows and perspiration assaulting certain parts of their body.

Last summer, I overheard two women talking in the lobby of a church, and they were discussing the heat, which had risen to 90 degrees-plus before the worship hour. The church had been closed up most of the week, and temperatures had climbed into record numbers. By the time the custodian opened the doors on Sunday morning, the heat had frazzled the parson and, believe it or not, melted the beeswax candles until they bent over in a perfect upside-down U-shape.

These two women were complaining about what the heat and humidity did to their curly hair, and how they had put on extra hair spray in order to keep the hairdo fresh and pretty. They also talked of rivulets of perspiration running down their bodies.

Men complain about the heat in church, too. The chief trouble for men seems to be the buttoned collars and neckties. Even those people who never wear a necktie all week feel it is important to dress up and wear the silk cravats on Sunday.

The collars and neckties can be tolerated in the air-conditioned automobile. But they cause great misery when these men get to church. Even when the parson suggests that men may loosen their ties, some will not, out of a desire to appear masculine and unmovable.

The problem men do not talk about is the VARNISH VEXATION, a condition that has nearly ripped Sunday-go-to-meeting slacks off the most pious men. The following will explain the cause of the problem.

First, some churches are more than 100 years old and have pews that have never been refinished. The excessive heat softens the old varnish until it becomes a trap for an unsuspecting male pew-sitter. Men arrive early, sit in a front pew and piously begin meditating.

Then the parson asks the congregation to rise and sing the opening hymn.

At that point the varnish attacks the male's trousers like a million sticky fingers. As the men of the church rise, the ripping sounds reverberate throughout the church. Women and children are terrified as the cacophony echos from the arched ceilings to the tiled floors. Every man's face turns crimson with shame.

I tell you these shocking stories to make an important point. If possible, churches should be air-conditioned.

That is my point. I suggest the same course of action every year, and once in a while I run into a congregation that has taken my message to heart.

I don't want credit for these innovations. It is simply the body's message that I pass along. The human body does not like to be overheated. It is cruel to force people into an overheated room and ask them not to move (or complain) for an hour.

Therefore, as good Christian people, we will air-condition our churches if possible. And when it is not possible, we will understand when people come to church dressed in brief costumes of piety. That's not disrespect, it's simple survival.

Clark D. Morphew