32nd Confession

I'm not big into confrontations.  I don't shy away from them when they happen, but it's not in my nature to go out looking for a fight.  I will, however, admit to a higher-than-average amount of puckishness in my nature.  I like to shake people up a little, move them out of their comfort zone, see how they handle a little life unexpectedly.

Most people fail.  For example, way back in the day, Joy and I went to our friend's church in Weirton, West Virginia.   We had never been to this church, didn't know anyone from this church (except for our friend), and unless I looked it up, I don't know that I'd even recall this church's name.  I remember it was white on the outside, but most churches are, I suppose.

To the story: a certain man was emceeing the church service (possibly a whole blog post on THAT later), and he announced it was time for everyone to go around and shake hands and greet and "fellowship" with one another.  (Isn't that just so churchy, to try and make something holy by giving it a nice little Bible word to go with it?  "Fellowship" is a deeper interpersonal connection than walking up to someone and shaking their hand.)  (Mental note: another blog post...)

So this over-friendly woman comes up and shakes my hand.  As with the previous post about church people, this one rubbed me all wrong.  Friendly is one thing; peppering your speech with "religious Tourette," holding on a little too tight, looking a little too interestedly in the face of the nice young man who has your attention...All these made my inner Robin Goodfellow want to act up.

These days, I'm a lot more genteel about such things.  I've grown panache, or maybe I've just gotten tired in my old age.

Back then, though...

So immediately after she says her initial wide-eyed and breathless "Praise the Lord Hallelujah good morning it's so good to see you," I respond in kind.  Pumping her hand enthusiastically, I trumpeted, "Good morning!  Welcome to my church!  I'm so glad you came this morning!"  Her eyes went a bit wider as she tried to find us in her mental Rolodex and failed.  At this point, she had lost all control of the conversation.  I had verbally swept her legs out from under her.  She should have let go of my hand and just walked away.

Instead, she spewed out some more empty religious rhetoric, mentioned before as "religious Tourette."  Anyone who has spent any amount of time in a church knows what I'm talking about: the random "Praise the Lord!" shouted at an inopportune time, a weighty "Amen!" when the pastor sneezes, trumpeting a "Help her, Jesus!" when the soloist bobbles the high note in her special.  I can't even recall what she said, it was so generic, mostly about how good it was to see us again (for the first time?), making something up about how she had been meaning to come over and see us last week (when we were in Glen Dale, WV), asking us about how my parents have been (who live in Beaver Falls, PA, have never attended this church, and are not named Robert and Cheryl), or something like this.  Finally, I just smiled and said, "I hope you get saved today," and turned back to Joy.  Her reply to that remark?  "Hallelujah I hope so!"

When the pastor wrested control of the pulpit from his emcee, he asked for a round of applause for "Elder What's-His-Name and his lovely wife."  Those of you with any insight of spirit probably guessed that the lady with whom I had been talking?  The lovely wife of Elder What's-His-Name.

All that to say, when life gives you something different, do something different, or else you look like a fool.