Tuesday, December 22, 2009

A week and a half ago I returned to the church of my youth. Not the exact place but a church one town south that is also United Methodist. I went the first time on a Saturday as I know a good church would be busy with some endeavor on a perfectly good weekend day. It turns out they were selling a variety of things for the home from nic-nacs to decorations. I resisted the urge to turn over the tables since they weren't selling any doves or goats or any thing to use for a living sacrifice. No, it was just a church bazaar and it is a practice sometimes ill made use of for generating revenue for charity.

I didn't have money to buy anything so I helped move boxes and straightened displays and just acted friendly to everyone I could when I came to them. It's good to meet people in an informal atmosphere when they are more open and more like themselves. Anyway once I had perused the reception room I felt like sitting down so I sat in the dimly lit sanctuary. I opened a hymnal which wasn't easy to read with the dim light but I picked out the words "Jesus Christ" "God from God" and other words relating how we, the faithful belonged to Him and would dwell with him for eternity. I thought: This is my church. It was good enough for my grandmother and it is all I will ever need.

I felt at home there even though there were some there that knew me. However, in a small town you are always in the light of day for easy viewing of every aspect down to your soul and , well: you get used to it. So far no one has led my to the altar to make an emotional display of my repentence for staying away from church for for years. I guess I was treated in a similar manner to the Prodigal Son who went to live with pigs and then changed his mind and went back to his Father's house to be welcomed by a feast and dancing They had a few tables with snacks that were delicious but no dancing. As a Charimatic I may have something to offer to these Methodists who are steeped in tradition and formal in their worship and methodologies. But one thing at a time for I am a bit radical and have even sometimes been referred to as an infidel. I think that means "a person you don't know what to do with".

They are sticking me in the choir. Good choice.


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