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A letter to my folks By Pearl Ashia
(Pearl Ashia is back)
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I HOPE all is well with you. I am fine and in the best of moods. This summer is a nightmare, isn't it? The gloomy weather, the chilly winds, the rains and worst of all the floods. I guess times have changed. So much for global warming, eh!
If you care to know folks, let me tell you about an ordeal I went through last Sunday. I love Sundays. I love it when all the folks in my house have gone to church and there is the unusual peace and quiet.
Sundays are serene and even Lionel Richie sings about how easy Sundays are. My usual Sunday starts from 11 a.m and that is when I wake up and the time all the folks have gone to church. I don't even bother with showers and all the ablutions you know. I just drag myself to the kitchen and reach for the coldest Magner's cider I can find. Then I warm me a left over and settle behind the Telly. I enjoy my brunch and my cider and watch a Carry On film or Only Fools And Horses. I don't even bother with OBE because all there is to watch is Teleshopping.
Sometimes I switch to the Classic FM TV and soak myself in some classics. You know, the Katherine Jenkins, Redmond O'toole, ILL DIVO and the rest. You know, the kind of Music most black people find unappealing.
But Ilove classic music because it keeps me in touch with my spiritual side. Then One day as I slouched in the settee, I switched the channels over only to discover the God Channel. It was amazing how i had watched SKY TV all the time and I had no clue there was a Channel like that. I fell in love with the preacher's word and so you know the point when they ask you to pray after them, I did exactly that because I was touched by the word of God and then I decided to attend church the next Sunday.
Fortunately, an older friend of mine invited me to her charismatic church somewhere in North London. Came Sunday and I was up early and freshening up to attend church.
I was peachy keen.
It was 9.30 in the morning when I settled on one of the pews. The worship session had begun. You know, the period where they sing and pray and rub tears on Jesus. I joined in, barely knowing what to pray about.
This session lasted almost an hour and over and after it, came the praises. The drums, the cymbals, the percussion and the what nots clashed, amidst joyful singing. Make a joyful noise onto the Lord so says the Bible and on that note, the praises alone ran into an hour. Folks, I had eaten nothing in the morning and it was because I was told the church finishes latest by 1pm.
The time was approximately 12 noon and we had just been asked to be seated for the sermon. By now my tummy was also making a joyful noise unto its Maker. The sermon lasted for an hour and then came offertory time.
The drums, the cymbals, the percussion and the songs began once more. The preacher before then had read a little quote from the Bible which stresses the need for Christians to give freely. They always do, don't they? So the music began and so did the dance. Folks, you won't believe the kind of dance the people of God, especially the women unleashed in front of the pulpit.
There was this heavily built woman with a lot of backside. Her slit had the most provocative side parting and all I saw her do was hop, skip, shake her booty and wobble her chest all in the name of dancing to the Glory of the living God. I stole glances at the Preacher's face and you won't believe and I am not blaspheming, he was almost dribbling and his jaw was almost sweeping the floor.
Oh my God! Then came vision time when some of the prayer warriors claim to have had visions about some of the congregation. My eyes were closed when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I was called to the front because apparently one of the seers had had a vision about me. She said to me that a member of my family will be infesting me with a bug in seven days so the Lord says if that day comes I shouldn't be afraid. I sighed in relief because the worst thing she could have said was to disgrace a first time visitor to a church by accusing them unnecessarily of witchcraft. They do that sometimes, don't they?
Then they called in all the prayer army or warriors to pray for me. They were shoving me left and right, almost hitting me with their Bibles. I stole a peep at the clock and it was a quarter to three. Starvation was one thing but being shoved here and there was the last straw. By now, I was fuming with rage.
Thank heavens the service finally came to an end. The Pastor came up to me to welcome me to their church and to ask if they will be seeing me more often.
I looked in his face solemnly and said an emphatic NO! Don't get me wrong, I have come to love the Lord and I love to go to church every Sunday but I am looking for the kind of church where hymns are sung, where the organ is played, a place where service is conducted solemnly. That is what I want. Everyone is different. Some love a noisy church but I guess some, like me, like it solemn so we can hear the still small voice.
Catch you later folks. Try and reply my letters and tell me about your daily encounters too. Just describe your encounter briefly and I will know how to put it.
Email your encounters to ashiapearl@yahoo.co.uk
and i will get in touch as soon as I can. Later.
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