Church-Going

When I was in hospital, I met a woman called C.  She is the same age as me but has two kids and a job and a generally different life.  Still, we found a lot of things in common and have stayed in touch since.  Today we finally met up to go to a Church service one of her friends attends regularly.  It was called Canterbury City Church.  It takes about two hours: half an hour of music, half an hour of a speaker and half an hour of Worship- I know that doesn’t total two hours but give or take 5 minutes each way.  It was alien to me.  There wasn’t a definite format; people were very open; there was, shock horror, no Kyrie Eleison.  And no Communion!  But it was nice, very child-friendly, and the speaker was funny and interesting.

I experience my religious beliefs as a constant crisis of faith, fluctuating and encountering problems, peaking and banging into brick walls.  This was a nice service in that I didn’t feel pressured to behave or feel in any particular way and there was a general air of acceptance.  It was nice to be in such an embracing environment.

I point-blank refused to lift my palms ceiling-wards and Embrace Power, or Lay My Hands on anybody, or close my eyes.  But I did try to be open-minded.

Afterwards we went to a picnic at C’s friend’s house.  I had only briefly met C’s friend, and didn’t know anyone else there but was quickly made to feel very welcome and part of the group.  It was a really nice afternoon.  I’m glad to’ve gone.

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