Oh for Pete's sake!

They say 'don't judge a book by its cover'. Well, I don't. I judge the book by its toes. It's a gift that I have. Along with being able to smell if there is or has been a cockroach in a room and also knowing when my mobile is going to ring or receive a message. And it's accurate - in fact, uncannily accurate. Those phalanges of the foot often tell me more than words can say, and I can tell from one glance at them as to whether or not I'm going to get along with someone or not.

I have just returned from having coffee with some of the young adults from church. As it is the summer holidays here and almost all of Madrid has headed for the coast, church is closed until the first weekend of September, and this was one of those gatherings for those of us left behind in the city. Amongst the group of us who met was a guy whose toes I have previously seen, and as such, they have sealed his fate. Sadly, he's one of those kinds who in a short space of time seems to annoy everyone, and therefore suffers constant rejection from people. He just has 'too much' of everything. Too much zeal, is too verbose, too tactile and too demonstrative when he talks, stands too close to you and is way too flaky and 'Christianesy'. On top of that, he just doesn't seem to know when to quit and put a lid on it. While I don't doubt his sincerity, he reminds me of Rachel, this girl I met on the metro in Barcelona who would wake me up at 6am in the morning with a text message to tell me that '1-2-3, Jesus loves you and me!' When he asks you how you are and you say 'fine', he responds with a slap on the on back and says 'absolutamente increible. Diós te bendiga, aleluyah!' (that's absolutely incredible. God bless you, hallelujah!') He was the one who made the call to invite me to the meeting, and while excuses like 'I have tonsilitis' or 'my sugar levels are way too low' came to mind, I feared saying anything as he is a medical student and would undoubtedly pop round and make a house call with his stethoscope dangling round his neck and his little black medical bag in hand. I've heard him pray for someone with a headache before, and he summons Michael and all the warring angels of Heaven to descend from on high and wage war against the inflammation of the meninges membrane. For this blog I'll call him Pedro.

Now all was going surprising well and normal at coffee until we were joined by a very obviously unsaved brother of one of the guys. He was tattooed and pierced from head to toe, had just woken up and was still very much hungover from his Sunday night partying. Pedro felt that now would be an appropriate time to forsake normality, switch personas to the Apostle Paul and take things up a gear by becoming ultra-evangelistic and introducing us as something that sounded like a cult.
"Saludos mi hermano en Cristo y bienvenido a la reunion de la familia de Diós," he said. (Greetings my brother in Christ and welcome to the meeting of the family of God). And thus began Pedro's inquisition of this poor bloke.
The tension was more than blatant on everyone's faces, and knowing what was lying ahead, I have never before so badly wanted to order a double Scotch on the rocks. Despite numerous efforts from all and sundry to change the topic of discussion to sport, the weather, the crisis in Europe and even the Pope's visit, Pedro soldiered on in his attempt to reach the lost, with every sentence ending with a 'bless God, praise God or hallelujah', undeterred by this guy's obvious disinterest and antagonism to the Gospel. Every time this guy tried to make some form of comment, response or statement, Pedro bulldozed over it with some inane or absurd reply. He was on a mission, and he wasn't giving up until he'd saved a soul, got it filled with the Spirit and possibly even baptised in the puddle of water in the gutter left over from last night's storm. It wasn't until he started talking about the possible end of the world in 2012, as predicted by the end of the Mayan calendar, that I thought to myself 'oh for Pete's sake!' and had one of those frozen moments in time, where while in suspended animation, I saw myself stick my hand into Pedro's mouth, grab his tongue and stab it to the table with a fork. Faintly, in the recesses of my mind, I could hear Pedro's voice saying 'today if you hear His voice, do not harden your heart as they did in the days of rebellion', when I was jolted back to reality by everyone's unanimous decision to adjourn the meeting of the 'family of God' and call for the bill. Despite everyone's apologies and excuses for Pedro's behaviour, it seemed that the damage had been done. If that guy ever decided to attend a church I seriously doubt that he would contemplate attending ours.

For all his Christian talk, Pedro makes Christians seem like people who need therapy - shock therapy. People want freedom from being driven, controlled, addicted, enslaved, restless and tormented. They should see that freedom in the peace, the joy, the rest, the contentment and confidence we exude from our lives, and that, coming from Christ. Now I know we are to be the salt of the earth, but sometimes, too much salt actually makes the food unpalatable. While our true life is with Christ in Heaven (Col. 3:1), it's highly advisable that we don't present our earthly Christian life as being from the planet Moronia. Our actions, our attitudes and the ambiance we create can speak a lot louder than words. Those first impressions we create when we meet people are so vital. Small people monopolise the talking, big people monopolise the listening.


"Be first what you want to say." John C. Maxwell