Christians are a funny bunch

As a Christian, I know we Christians are a funny bunch.  Perhaps we might  appear a bit odd, weird and a bit different.  Or maybe perfectly normal?  Do we take everything seriously?  I cannot help but be on the same wavelength of the spot-on Adrian Plass at times.

Many churches have home groups.  In our church they used to be called ‘house groups’ but people who lived in flats, caravans or narrowboats might have felt left out, so they were renamed ‘home groups’.  These home groups are opportunities for people who go to church to get together in someone’s home.  As it’s a church group, you can expect things like Bible studies, prayers and conversation which is ever-so-polite and nice.

Recently when I went to our home group in Dunstable, I walked in just as things were getting underway.  There was only one seat left and it was next to the leader.  Thinking it was a bit like being teacher’s pet at school, I hesitated and then had no choice but to sit down next to him.

It was one of those squishy sofas, where we always end up becoming even closer friends.  What I didn’t reckon on was him putting his arm along the top of the sofa, just where I was sitting.  Needless to say his arm kept slipping down towards my shoulder.  As much I as get the brotherly love and all that, I definitely didn’t want to be cuddled by the leader.

I wriggled and squirmed.  One or two raised their eyebrows.  I reached forward to sip my cup of tea and eat my one-and-only biscuit from the unspoken quota.  The arm had moved upwards.  Phew, that worked.

So whenever I felt the arm slipping down towards my shoulder, I leaned forward and sipped my tea.  All very well but the problem is the tea will eventually run out.  Panic! Will anyone notice if I sip from an empty tea cup?  Double panic!

I think I got away with it, just.

The next home group meeting was at someone else’s house.  This time it was the posh house from within the group.  One definitely has to untie one’s shoe laces in the expansive hallway which was about the size of my first flat.  The lounge is even bigger, definitely bigger than my first flat.  It has leather sofas, the kind you’d find in the lobby of an upmarket hotel and definitely not for the riff-raff like me. They are spaced around the large room so one has to listen hard and speak up in order to follow the conversation.

Naturally the Good Lord saw fit to give me the only remaining seat on the posh sofa, once again right next to the leader with his long arms.  As I sat down, his arm glided along the top of the sofa behind me, once more getting ready for the unspoken brotherly cuddle.  Panic set in when I realised there wasn’t a coffee table in front of me to lean towards a non-existent cup of tea whenever the arm started to slide down towards my shoulders.

In the end there were no cuddles; it all went well.  The evening’s discussions followed their usual course.  We had our chats, prayers and ever-so-polite banter but definitely no cuddles. I survived.  Phew.

You might like to check out the website of Adrian Plass – the humorous Christian author who I greatly appreciate