"May I say something?"
A youngish African man, dressed in long cream-coloured linen and a round hat, approached the microphone. The congregation watched curiously as the middle-aged woman onstage, with a nervous smile, stepped aside. Her plan to follow up the prayer for Haiti with prayer for a church family who were about to go overseas, would have to wait. The young stranger leaned in on the pulpit.
"First of all, I am not here because I think I am better than you," he began. His accent was foreign. A visiting preacher? A recent convert? We all glanced at each other to gauge the general reaction at such a peculiar beginning, and waited to be told why we might have supposed him to think himself better than us. Pastor David stepped cautiously towards the stage and hovered there.
"You see, there is so much that we share. We believe in one God, a God of love, and we follow the teaching of Jesus, peace be upon him. And we are united in our sorrow about what has happened in Haiti, and in our prayers for the people there who are suffering so much." He continued at length on the subject. We all listened politely, eager to think well of him, but wondering what he had to say that was worth interrupting the service for. After several minutes, Pastor David stepped up onto the stage and stood beside him.
"Pastor David, just two minutes more, please. You see, the reason such tragedies are happening in the world, and the reason I am here, is because it is our fault. You and I, the people of the world, we are all responsible, because of the way we have been living. The corruption of the world is so strong, so powerful, that God has to lift his hand in this dramatic way, just to get our attention. It is very important that we do not miss these signs. Listen to what God is saying to us! We have gone astray, and it's time..."
"Friend, let me ask you something: is Jesus your Lord and saviour?" the pastor interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I have the greatest reverence and respect for Jesus - peace be upon him - but please, let me finish. It is time..."
"Come on now, you've had your two minutes."
"No, excuse me, this is too important; let me finish."
Paster David pulled the microphone to himself, while the stranger raised his voice louder and carried on talking. "Folks, I met this fellow before the service, and I told him I didn't mind him speaking for a few minutes, if it was appropriate, but that this is a place of Christian worship, and I would stop him if he began saying things that went against our beliefs. We don't believe that God causes natural disasters as judgement on the earth, and I think that now, my friend, you are breaking that bargain we made. I would ask you to please step down, and take a seat, and you are welcome to stay with us for the rest of the service."
The visitor carried on, shouting to be heard, though it felt as though he had not yet made his point. The pastor nodded towards a few people in the front rows. "These people will be happy to talk to you in another room, but I think it's time for the rest of us to carry on with the service."
It was, inevitably, an ugly moment to watch. For all their politeness and gentle words, it is impossible for 3 or 4 white men and women to look well while dragging a black man offstage by both arms, while he continues to shout his beliefs to the embarrassed assembly.
"In all fairness," said Pastor David, when they had all vanished into a back room, "none of us would expect to be allowed to speak our minds in a mosque, and as much as we love this gentleman and respect his beliefs, this is not the time or place for them. I did tell him that would happen if he broke the bargain - though I didn't mention that one of those people is actually a police constable." The congregation laughed, and felt a little better. The service carried on, and the incident was not mentioned again (publicly).
And that is the end of the story.
A youngish African man, dressed in long cream-coloured linen and a round hat, approached the microphone. The congregation watched curiously as the middle-aged woman onstage, with a nervous smile, stepped aside. Her plan to follow up the prayer for Haiti with prayer for a church family who were about to go overseas, would have to wait. The young stranger leaned in on the pulpit.
"First of all, I am not here because I think I am better than you," he began. His accent was foreign. A visiting preacher? A recent convert? We all glanced at each other to gauge the general reaction at such a peculiar beginning, and waited to be told why we might have supposed him to think himself better than us. Pastor David stepped cautiously towards the stage and hovered there.
"You see, there is so much that we share. We believe in one God, a God of love, and we follow the teaching of Jesus, peace be upon him. And we are united in our sorrow about what has happened in Haiti, and in our prayers for the people there who are suffering so much." He continued at length on the subject. We all listened politely, eager to think well of him, but wondering what he had to say that was worth interrupting the service for. After several minutes, Pastor David stepped up onto the stage and stood beside him.
"Pastor David, just two minutes more, please. You see, the reason such tragedies are happening in the world, and the reason I am here, is because it is our fault. You and I, the people of the world, we are all responsible, because of the way we have been living. The corruption of the world is so strong, so powerful, that God has to lift his hand in this dramatic way, just to get our attention. It is very important that we do not miss these signs. Listen to what God is saying to us! We have gone astray, and it's time..."
"Friend, let me ask you something: is Jesus your Lord and saviour?" the pastor interrupted, putting a hand on his shoulder.
"I have the greatest reverence and respect for Jesus - peace be upon him - but please, let me finish. It is time..."
"Come on now, you've had your two minutes."
"No, excuse me, this is too important; let me finish."
Paster David pulled the microphone to himself, while the stranger raised his voice louder and carried on talking. "Folks, I met this fellow before the service, and I told him I didn't mind him speaking for a few minutes, if it was appropriate, but that this is a place of Christian worship, and I would stop him if he began saying things that went against our beliefs. We don't believe that God causes natural disasters as judgement on the earth, and I think that now, my friend, you are breaking that bargain we made. I would ask you to please step down, and take a seat, and you are welcome to stay with us for the rest of the service."
The visitor carried on, shouting to be heard, though it felt as though he had not yet made his point. The pastor nodded towards a few people in the front rows. "These people will be happy to talk to you in another room, but I think it's time for the rest of us to carry on with the service."
It was, inevitably, an ugly moment to watch. For all their politeness and gentle words, it is impossible for 3 or 4 white men and women to look well while dragging a black man offstage by both arms, while he continues to shout his beliefs to the embarrassed assembly.
"In all fairness," said Pastor David, when they had all vanished into a back room, "none of us would expect to be allowed to speak our minds in a mosque, and as much as we love this gentleman and respect his beliefs, this is not the time or place for them. I did tell him that would happen if he broke the bargain - though I didn't mention that one of those people is actually a police constable." The congregation laughed, and felt a little better. The service carried on, and the incident was not mentioned again (publicly).
And that is the end of the story.
posted by Kat | 2/02/2010 06:59:00 am
2 Comments:
Good story. I'd be interested what he would have said in his two minutes :)
You see this sort of stuff in Church all the time - homeless people going up to share their doped up thoughts.
You should share the story at lolchurch.co.nz - Fraser posts there now too.
Post a Comment
<< Home