Tomorrow we meet with the preacher and elders of Trinity Church to see about joining. “What?” you say, “Shouldn’t a church let anyone in?” Well sure, I answer, but not for communion, or possible leadership positions.
They just want to check us out, to make sure we’re joining the church for the right reasons, and not just to get our kid in the private school there, or as a social thing. We’ve already met with the pastor, taken the Inquirer’s class (basically Presbyterianism 101) and gotten a wee bit involved here and there.
I’m not concerned, except that Terry still has a bit of the Baptist in him and I’m not sure how he’ll answer some of the questions they’ll probably ask.
Are you a sinner?
Well yes, of course I am. I’m a desperate sinner worthy of death and hellfire. Fortunately God saw fit to show his endless mercy and grace through Jesus Christ…etc. That’s the presbyterian answer. The Baptist answer would be “not anymore, I’m washed in the Blood of the Lamb” which is the wrong answer. I hope they let us sit next to each other so I can pass him crib notes. Or stomp on his foot.
Anyway, it will be nice to make it official. While I don’t agree with everything they stand for, it’s not necessary that I do. Those things I truly don’t agree with, I can speak up (in private, probably with the preacher and his wife after I’ve greased him a bit with fine scotch and a cigar. I found out from her that he has a fondness for such). Probably mostly I’ll keep my mouth shut, because it’s what I do anyway, unless I am totally 100% comfortable with whomever I’m talking to.
Oh! Another thing! Peaches (the preacher’s wife, could there possibly be a better name for a preacher’s wife? NO?? I DIDN’T THINK SO!) and I were talking and somehow the subject of guns came up. I tenatively advanced the information that I owned one or two, including a handgun and she was all “OH! I’ve always wanted to know how to use one! You never know when some cretin is going to break into the house and try to hurt you!” I’m still smiling over that. The comparison between her and the last preacher’s wife we had is priceless and refreshing. The last one? Total stick up her arse, painted pansies on teapots and called it art, and disliked my children immensely (and irrationally, I believe).
So. tomorrow we make it official. tomorrow I get to trot out my fine illustrious Presbyterian heritage and ride it a bit (and yes, it’s long and many-storied, including the first Presbyterian minister to establish the church in The (hand over heart please) Republic of Texas (Richard Overton Watkins), and traceable back to John Knox and John Calvin Reformation days). Terry, as a Baptist, will have to ride *my* coattails for once.