The [Im]Perfection Dare 2- To be a Pilgrim

A Scene with no Dialogue

You'd have thought that joining a church choir at the age of nine would be a bad idea. That being a vicar's daughter, in a church choir, aged fifteen would just be a duty. A fact of life.

But being part of a choir is something else all together, something that deserves a tale of its own.

What people don't realise, however, is that being in a church choir lets you see every little detail, if you look hard enough. Sitting at the front of the church, you can see everything.

You can see the young girl, dressed in a pretty skirt for church, wondering at the bright morning sunlight falling over herself and the entire congregation, washing them in stained tints of reds, greens and blues from the stained glass windows, and marvelling at how the light bounces back across the church from the candlesticks, to mosaics, to the sparkling gold of the ornamental cross, standing tall upon the altar, and down to the tiny crucifix necklaces glinting out bravely around the church. You see her wonder at the baptism of a baby, singing her heart out to the hymns she learns at school. See her dressed in tinsel for the Christmas services. See when she first asks "what is God?" and how the adults stumble over trying to explain in "child friendly terms". See the light in her eyes as she makes her first encounter with God. When she first feels that presence. That special moment that would otherwise go unnoticed.

But that's not all. For God is Love.

When one half of a couple drags the other to church, for reasons that they cannot understand. But they do it for love. Some feel nothing, and write it off as a quirk of their sweetheart. But others find that spark, and begin a lifelong journey in God.

You see the proud smiles slipped between couples as their marriage bans are read out, the sudden nervous grip of each other's hand as the priest asks for any just impediments to be spoken, the relief when the church stays silent. Little things that pass the ordinary churchgoer by rise up to greet us.

And when a marriage passes every test, and we come together to celebrate it again. When the "big, tough bloke" who spends his evening watching the footy in the pub with the lads is called forward by the priest, and takes his wife's hand in his, and retakes his wedding vows, 30 years after they first were made. He'll deny it for as long as there's life to deny it to, but we saw the tears glistening in his eyes, reflecting those in hers. He may be a big, tough bloke in the fire brigade, but before God, he's a faithful husband and a good man.

And then, last week, when the whole congregation came together to celebrate marriage with a couple who have been married for sixty years. With the same lovestruck look in their eyes as the soon-to-be-weds and our friends from before, they too remade their vows, the strength of their words more convincing, carrying further, lasting longer, being stronger than their shaking hands, now shrivelled with age. Time is just a number, after all.

And, when after the renewal of vows for all the couples in the parish, one member of the choir slips quietly down to light a candle, say a prayer, and remember her loved and lost. No words need be said, for love is stronger than death.

And so we go on with our daily lives. The congregation think they see everything, that it is shown to them through the words of the priest. But there's more to it then that. God the Spirit dwells among them, unseen and unheard by all except the onlooker.

And the Spirit is with us too- in the hymns we sing, the words we pray- God's spirit is upon the lass who sits beside me, silent and thoughtful with God, but who worked with God to save my life many a time.

Do not blind yourself with texts and reading whilst in church- let your eyes, your mind, your spirit wander, and slowly yet surely, you will wander your way towards God, with us behind you all the way.