Last weekend I returned to my home church in Sheffield to preach at their church anniversary services. It was great to see so many friends and family (mother, sister, uncles) again, including a few old friends who made a special effort to come along. I brushed up a couple of good sermons from recent months, took along my guitar and demonstrated my power point skills. I couldn’t go wrong. Even though I gave confusing instructions during the all-age address and later knocked over and smashed my glass of water, everyone loved me.
This has done wonders for my ego, and I have to remind myself that the circumstances were extremely propitious. They wouldn’t feel the same if they had me week in week out, or if I was a stranger rather than the nice young man they remember from 35 years ago.
So it was refreshing that at the end of the evening service R disagreed politely but strongly with a lot of my sermon. He couldn’t believe in a God who tinkers, a God who is out there somewhere who will hear and answer prayers. He believes in a God who exists in people and nowhere else. A shame we didn’t have time to debate theology at any length. Imagine my distress when R had to give way to a long queue of people wanting to shake my hand and tell me how wonderful I was.
