It had not been a good day - I had over done my usual walking regime and now every bone was
aching so it was time to soak in a hot bath, take my medication and turn in for an early night.
Four hours later I was wide awake with the mental energy, I repeat, mental energy, certainly not physical, to do a thorough spring clean. I dragged my weary body to the kitchen making yet another
hot drink and took more pain relief. The previous evening an honest debate with a fellow Christian had gone quite wrong and this led to her swift condemnation and everlasting damnation in hell. Wow it was creepy.
Perhaps I would just get some sleep listening to a favourite C.D. and as I opened my bedside cabinet the Adrian Plass and Jeff Lucas book I had recently purchased entitled "Seriously Funny" fell at my feet. Thank you God. Just reading the first few chapters I was back on track and laughing at the amazing honesty of these two guys.
Perhaps I should explain and go back seventeen years to the beginning. It was only when I reached
the level of "train wreck"status that I asked, no begged for help and forgiveness, but even then doubted anyone would hear my pathetic cry. After all I had brought everything on myself, there was only one person to blame and that was me. At this point my life changed as I experienced what I could only describe as warm thick liquid flowing over my head and body filling me with incredible peace and an awesome feeling of joy, all I could do was wonder "what was that" This didn't
happen in a church, in fact I had been in the wastelands for thirty long years and like the prodigal son
I had nowhere to go but home and ask for my Father's forgiveness.
Twelve months later I was baptized and accepted as a member of a local church in a small Sussex town.
Under the waters I experienced the touch of gentle invisible hands and the same awesome feeling of peace and love and after what seemed a considerable length of time (but in reality was a couple of seconds) I rose and spent the next three months in a state of utter joy, just happy to be a member of the church, unaware of any undercurrents or general squabbling and jostling for position that probably goes on in most denominations. My thirst for knowledge grew and I spent my free time studying the bible and reading Christian literature, all was well.
Returning North with employment I joined a local charismatic evangelical fellowship and suddenly I became aware of the ugly face of church politics and agendas. It is difficult enough to attend a new church, everyone knows your name, but I couldn't remember theirs. Working in the church cafe one morning a friend enquired "would you mind taking this coffee through to the vestry for Clive. Clive was the church secretary. As I crossed the altar to the side door
a woman removing flowers on the altar commented "Oh look at the flowers, I have not been able to get in, I've had a bad cold. Another wail followed "they are nearly dead" I smiled and said "surely someone could have popped into the local florists and replaced them for you". At this juncture her face trembled, unholy wrath contorted her features, she spoke "This is my job, no one touches the altar flowers but me. I passed quickly by - right - okay - bye.
Rebecca was a church stalwart, never missed a service, a financial pillar, served on the PCC. This particular morning I was on duty in the church cafe making sandwiches and serving soup, hot pot, coffee
and cake, whatever was on the menu for that day. A young boy approached the serving hatch. Clean, tidy and obviously well fed he politely enquired "How much can I get with this" opening his hand to reveal two pence.
Rebecca froze on the spot and sternly replied - "Nothing, but you can have a drink of water".
I stood stunned. "Well perhaps he can have something to eat, I will put the money in for him" I replied. That didn't go down very well, the stern expression had now changed to a glare "If you do that he will bring the rest of his friends along" she replied.
Thinking positively I replied "well at least we will get them into church that's a start who knows what will come of that." Meanwhile the young boy continued to study the food on the counter.
"What would you like to eat" I enquired. He gave it some thought and decided on a ham and salad muffin, a piece of cake and a drink of fruit juice. I costed his request and placed the money from my purse into the till and as I moved to serve other people in the cafe I noticed he was happily eating his free lunch.
Things were hotting up. Half the congregation left unhappy with the direction the church was taking.
The vicar oblivious to their disapproval commented "I don't care if I get down to twelve members as long as they know Jesus" But his card was marked and the watchers were just waiting for him to put
one foot wrong and they would "have him" At this point I was wondering W.W.J.D.
The Alpha course started and I was asked to help in the kitchen serving food and washing up.
Gladly. I would have washed feet - well almost all feet - and of course there was always a pair of
plastic gloves in extreme cases. I had yet to cross the zealots - hot from bible college, wet behind the ears, absolutely no experience in the university of life and one particular youth appeared to be aware of my growing critical spirit, an accusation usually hurled at the least sign of opposition. The fully fed stray sheep were rounded up for a short sermon and then sorted into groups and when lots were cast I was unfortunate enough to land in group allocated to this particular zealot. He sensed he had a rebel on his hands but rattled on full of his own importance, never really answering their questions and the flock with full bellies and a warm venue just let him get on with it probably wondering what was on the menu for the following week.
The evening services would last four hours and in the winter elderly
members were wandering home through the town, vulnerable and unprotected in an area known for drug and knife crime. Despite an altar call requesting people with vehicles
give lifts to anyone going in their direction it was commonplace to see seniors waiting for a very limited late night Sunday service whilst the young Zealots shot off in their hot rods and minutes later drove past the home of the pensioners who had just caught the last bus.
By this time I was questioning "what - what - do they know Jesus" and getting thoroughly miffed with the whole business of "church" A visiting Canadian evangelist said "don't be surprised if people spit at you some have been badly treated by some Christians and I could
believe that. It was at this low ebb that I found a book called "The Visit" by Adrian Plass. Gosh
had this guy got it right - they wouldn't know Jesus if they fell over him.
I have probably missed much of his work but the next book I bought was called Bacon Sandwiches and
Salvation and I doubt I had ever laughed so much.
It was certainly a case of clowns to the left, jokers to the right here I am in the middle with
you Lord.
Back to "Seriously Funny" by Adrian Plass and Jeff Lucas. As I finally succumbed to fatigue I could only muse "Dear God, if you really do provide heavenly housing I don't need a mansion, I could manage in a terraced as long as I have someone like Adrian and Jeff on either side. Its okay Mrs Plass and Mrs Lucas relax, I am really quite ancient, have had my three score and ten and am ready to attend the Godport when the call comes. I just need to know my neighbours can see the whacky side of this religious business and when I've completed all my heavenly chores I can come home to tea and pleasant conversation with soul mates that enjoy a sense of humour. I seriously doubt anyone will be pulling rank up there, in fact I think some Christians should take quite seriously Matthew 7 - 1 before they consider sending the flock hurtling into hell for every honest doubt where interpretation of scripture is involved.
Dear Lord, when I next get on the Gatwick Express could I accidentally bump into Adrian and thank
him for literally "saving my bacon" on three occasions.
