A gorgeous autumn day.
On the corner, a group of well-dressed men and women, gathered, discussing, perhaps, tactics, territories. A brief prayer. And then, dividing to …conquer. Or whatever.
This is all assumption, of course. I don’t know what these well-dressed proselytizers, the Jehovah’s Witnesses who canvass our neighborhood each autumn, say to each other before they begin. I only know that this is the time of year I have Watchtower magazines shoved through the door, and exchange wary smiles with the neighbors, who do a double-take to be sure I’m someone they know.
For almost a whole year, in Cambusbarron, I talked with a couple called Mary and Ian almost twice a month. They’d come by, and chit-chat, and I’d stand in the entryway for a half hour, letting them read me something from the Bible and their various holy books, and would end each visit with them giving me their magazine. Tech Boy hated it. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t dodge them, or tell them to go away like everyone else. And, frankly, it’s FREEZING in November in Scotland, and standing in the entryway for a half hour was ludicrous.
But.
It was freezing in Scotland in November. And these people were out in it, walking from door to door, asking to, like, talk to people, and pray with them.
Crazy? Or Convicted?
(Don’t answer that, Tech Boy.)
I am never going to become one of their wee flock, not in this lifetime, especially not after listening to them, and hearing some things which I consider dicey theology (For instance: I will never believe there are levels of heaven. NEVER. We have enough of that crap on Earth). (And, so you don’t think badly of me, I made this perfectly clear from our first visit.) But CONVICTION. These people have it, and … I want it. I want to be that convinced of the rightness of my ideals and goals that I don’t mind a little cold and discomfort, for a greater cause.
That’s not really my personality – not my superpower, so to speak. But every autumn, I watch and learn.
And, oddly, for these churchy people who probably think I’m going to hell, I do give honest thanks.