Presbyhooligans

I am an adopted Presbyterian these days. The minister down the street is on vacation and I am covering for him during his absence.

Last week I had the memorial service for the former custodian at St. Andrew's and he must have been a popular guy because the church was almost full. His widow was helpful in painting a portrait of her late husband so I was able to speak of him in a personal way. The congregation was extremely appreciative of my presence and I was pleased to be of support in a difficult time.

The next day I was in the hospital visiting members of my flock and noticed that there was a Presbyhooligan (a colleague's tongue-in-cheek term) in as well. When I got to her room I saw that I would need to glove and gown, which I hate doing, so I decided to keep on going. Even the supposedly large gear doesn't fit --it must be for plus-sized trolls. But the woman saw me at the door and called out. I donned the ill-fitting kit and walked in. We had a good chat although I could tell she was confused and lonely.

When she said that she was always either hot or cold I teased her about being Goldilocks and she laughed. At the end of our visit I suggested we pray, an offer she quickly accepted. Here I was with a person I didn't know, yet we shared the intimacy of speaking to God. She expressed her hope that I return.

Why do we make such a fuss about our differences? Why in downtown Bowmanville do we maintain buildings for three congregations that are very similar in background? Why don't we take "one Lord, one faith, one baptism" more seriously?