Went to the Good Friday service this morning. Made a scene. Yelled at a woman. Went home.
But it wasn't my fault. Really.
I hadn't planned on going, but changed my mind last minute and drove over to the Motor Inn and Conference Centre where it's been held the last few years. I was wearing jeans, my spring coat with the ripped pocket and my favourite cap. (Which is probably relevant.)
There's a large room upstairs that's used for weddings and dinner theatre. The front end, where the windows are, was set up with all the paraphernalia of a modern church service. The back end, with a stage set for the next performance of the play that's running right now. Kitchen table and chairs, living room, fake fireplace.
Place was packed, so my son and I sat on the stage with a few others.
The band was good, songs were well chosen. The sermon was about the two thieves on the crosses next to Jesus and the choices they made. It ended with a repeat-after-me opportunity for people to pray and ask Jesus into their hearts. Which everyone prayed out loud, so no one would feel uncomfortable speaking out for the first time.
Which is where I made my blunder.
I didn't pray out loud. Huge mistake.
First rule of not being noticed in church - if the pastor says "repeat after me", REPEAT!
The Amen had hardly been spoken, when the nicely dressed lady next to me, whose name I didn't know, grabbed my hand, leaned in close and stage-whispered "Will you ever be blessed?"
She held my eyes for a few seconds, squeezed my hand, gave me a pious smile and let go.
I must have looked a bit bewildered, what with being bewildered and all. I know I shook my head, then turned and made a face at my son.
The service moved on from there to the closing song. It was a good song, so I sang along, but I just wanted out of there. I figured as soon as the song was over, I'd take off because I knew, I knew, I knew, that my new best friend wasn't finished. She just had that vibe.
But I was too slow.
I stood up and she grabbed my arm, with both hands, leaned close again and asked me intently, "Do you know this Jesus we're talking about?"
And I found myself suddenly and very angry.
I answered, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. And you should stop judging by appearances. Excuse me."
I tried to walk away, but she wouldn't let go.
She said, "I'm not judging you. I just want to bless you."
"Let go of my arm."
"I have a Word for you."
"Let go of my arm!" I pulled free and turned away. She grabbed the bag I was carrying. I pulled again and walked away.
She called after me, "I just want to bless you!"
I was so angry I was vibrating.
This kind of religious arrogance infuriates me. The "I know you better than you know yourself", "I know what God wants to say to you" self importance. (I'm still angry, by the way, in case you hadn't picked up on that.)
I encountered it once before. I was 16 and visiting some cousins in Montreal. We went to a youth service. I hadn't planned my wardrobe with sufficient care and went to church wearing a denim jacket and jeans. At the end of the service, there was a time of worship that involved everyone gathering at the front of the room, singing together, their hands raised.
I stayed in my seat. Huge mistake.
Second rule of not being noticed in church - don't get separated from the herd.
So this woman, a complete stranger, plunked down next to me, put her arm around me and started praying loudly that I'd come to know Jesus as my Saviour.
I didn't want to disappoint her by saying that I already did, so I played possum and waited for her to finish.
I can't quite believe it happened again. This time I didn't play dead. I fought back.
In the post-match analysis over lunch, my family agreed that if Conan the Converter was going to assault anyone, it might as well be me, rather than someone who isn't a believer and might go away thinking that all Christians are like that. I can take a hit. Takin' one for the team. Yeah.
But she drove me away. There was someone in that room I actually wanted to talk to. I saw him sitting with his family. Someone I wanted particularly to shake hands with, or give him a hug because we've got history and his family is going through a rough time right now. I just wanted to make sure I said hi.
Instead, I headed for the exit like a - yeah, I'm gonna say it - bat out of Hell. Because this arrogant, religious, presumptuous woman accosted me and tried to force her version of God's will for my life down my throat.
I'm still angry.
Happy Good Friday.
r
But it wasn't my fault. Really.
I hadn't planned on going, but changed my mind last minute and drove over to the Motor Inn and Conference Centre where it's been held the last few years. I was wearing jeans, my spring coat with the ripped pocket and my favourite cap. (Which is probably relevant.)
There's a large room upstairs that's used for weddings and dinner theatre. The front end, where the windows are, was set up with all the paraphernalia of a modern church service. The back end, with a stage set for the next performance of the play that's running right now. Kitchen table and chairs, living room, fake fireplace.
Place was packed, so my son and I sat on the stage with a few others.
The band was good, songs were well chosen. The sermon was about the two thieves on the crosses next to Jesus and the choices they made. It ended with a repeat-after-me opportunity for people to pray and ask Jesus into their hearts. Which everyone prayed out loud, so no one would feel uncomfortable speaking out for the first time.
Which is where I made my blunder.
I didn't pray out loud. Huge mistake.
First rule of not being noticed in church - if the pastor says "repeat after me", REPEAT!
The Amen had hardly been spoken, when the nicely dressed lady next to me, whose name I didn't know, grabbed my hand, leaned in close and stage-whispered "Will you ever be blessed?"
She held my eyes for a few seconds, squeezed my hand, gave me a pious smile and let go.
I must have looked a bit bewildered, what with being bewildered and all. I know I shook my head, then turned and made a face at my son.
The service moved on from there to the closing song. It was a good song, so I sang along, but I just wanted out of there. I figured as soon as the song was over, I'd take off because I knew, I knew, I knew, that my new best friend wasn't finished. She just had that vibe.
But I was too slow.
I stood up and she grabbed my arm, with both hands, leaned close again and asked me intently, "Do you know this Jesus we're talking about?"
And I found myself suddenly and very angry.
I answered, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. And you should stop judging by appearances. Excuse me."
I tried to walk away, but she wouldn't let go.
She said, "I'm not judging you. I just want to bless you."
"Let go of my arm."
"I have a Word for you."
"Let go of my arm!" I pulled free and turned away. She grabbed the bag I was carrying. I pulled again and walked away.
She called after me, "I just want to bless you!"
I was so angry I was vibrating.
This kind of religious arrogance infuriates me. The "I know you better than you know yourself", "I know what God wants to say to you" self importance. (I'm still angry, by the way, in case you hadn't picked up on that.)
I encountered it once before. I was 16 and visiting some cousins in Montreal. We went to a youth service. I hadn't planned my wardrobe with sufficient care and went to church wearing a denim jacket and jeans. At the end of the service, there was a time of worship that involved everyone gathering at the front of the room, singing together, their hands raised.
I stayed in my seat. Huge mistake.
Second rule of not being noticed in church - don't get separated from the herd.
So this woman, a complete stranger, plunked down next to me, put her arm around me and started praying loudly that I'd come to know Jesus as my Saviour.
I didn't want to disappoint her by saying that I already did, so I played possum and waited for her to finish.
I can't quite believe it happened again. This time I didn't play dead. I fought back.
In the post-match analysis over lunch, my family agreed that if Conan the Converter was going to assault anyone, it might as well be me, rather than someone who isn't a believer and might go away thinking that all Christians are like that. I can take a hit. Takin' one for the team. Yeah.
But she drove me away. There was someone in that room I actually wanted to talk to. I saw him sitting with his family. Someone I wanted particularly to shake hands with, or give him a hug because we've got history and his family is going through a rough time right now. I just wanted to make sure I said hi.
Instead, I headed for the exit like a - yeah, I'm gonna say it - bat out of Hell. Because this arrogant, religious, presumptuous woman accosted me and tried to force her version of God's will for my life down my throat.
I'm still angry.
Happy Good Friday.
r
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