This weekend in May was different. I did not play golf on Sunday and decided to go to church on my own. I haven't done that in a long time. At least not in the UK since the pandemic. Before I would go to Methodist Central Hall in Westminster, more out of a ritual if I were honest, than any real longing for fellowship because there wasn't any there.
Initially I went to Methodist Central because not going felt strange. Church had become such a part of my life that I felt something missing if I didn't go. And being alone for the most part, it was a comforting habit to have a routine. But as the weeks went by, I just didn't feel any welcome - I am sure people would have recognised me as a regular by then (7-8 months) but no one ever really came forward to speak to me, to find out where I was from, and so on. But I still went until covid brought it to an end.
And of course covid brought something of a good change in that services went online and I could connect back to Wesley again. I had been thinking of going back to Methodist Central however in recent months - going home periodically and being able to attend church in person made me realise I still preferred to go in person.
It was great that Mummy and I went to St Helen's in Bishopsgate (thanks Ethan!) because it was like finding a spiritual home away from home. The first time we stepped in, we were welcomed by Alex, a young man from Hong Kong. He didn't know us but took the time to come and speak with us. That is fellowship at its best, something that not even Wesley does very well. Kathryn, the only usher that spoke to us regularly, did so because she was a colleague. Other ushers would smile and greet us, but never struck up a conversation.
We had stopped going to Wesley years ago because no one came to speak to us and we slowly drifted away. We weren't in a small group and felt no connection.
Such connections are powerful. You yearn for it when you don't have it, and it makes you want to go back. Each time you go, more connections are formed, even if only transient, lasting for those few minutes of conversation before the service starts. And they give you the hope for more in the future. And I have not been disappointed here. Every time I've been back to St Helen's, I've had these conversations with total strangers.
You would know I am not the most social of creatures - I tend to prefer to listen, and am not likely to be the one to strike up a conversation with a stranger. And yet I have been moved to do this. It's a bit like that popular slogan - Be The Change. You know? Don't just complain about it. Do something. It seems to me like there's a powerful spirit at work here in this church - the people who spoke to us weren't even ushers.
And that made me wonder about the ushers at Wesley. Perhaps it's a question of how their roles are defined for them (or maybe how they choose to do so themselves). They greet people, hand out the order of service, and direct people to where the empty seats are. I wonder though, are they missing the big picture? What should be their real or primary role?
On a related note, attending service again made me restart the Wesley Bible Reading Drive. And maybe, just maybe, going to church again reminded me to be a little less self-centred, and to pay attention to others around me. Being too self-absorbed isn't helpful. I had been feeling a little lost, a little depressed again. One of the key issues of the world today is the constant harping on how wonderful your life can and should be. We ignore how wonderful it already is, how blessed we are. Being reminded of how we should love others, brought me out of my funk.
One day while walking along Rochester Row, I tied the shoelace of an old lady - I think she was a bit surprised when I stopped her and told her that her laces were untied. I think she said she was sure she had tied them before she left home. She looked further surprised when I asked if I could tie them for her. It may not seem like something you would think twice of doing, but for me I have always been more wary of negative reactions than actually about helping people.
I was liberated! On the day I went to St Helen's alone, I took the Tube home from Monument station. I went to the platform and saw a strapping young Caucasian man (real bodybuilder type) with two large suitcases, looking at his phone, looking round the platform and then back to the phone. I sensed he was not sure which train he should be taking but did not do anything.
Why? Sometimes I overthink it. There was a similar incident once at St James station when a young Chinese woman walked up and down the platform, also with a phone in her hand. She glanced at me a few times as she passed. I sensed she needed help but I did not volunteer to do so. She probably saw a Chinese face, felt that it would be less intimidating to talk to me than another person. so she finally approached me for help. I tried but I was not very sure and felt bad for not being able to sort out her problem. This is a well known behaviorial issue because people often feel others are more qualified to assist.
But back to this young man. I was still thinking about whether I should approach him, or maybe I should mind my own business. My train came, and I was going to board it but somehow I just couldn't leave without at least trying. So I went to him and asked if he needed help. We managed to get him sorted out and he was very grateful and said something to the effect that there should be more people like me, who saw/sensed that he had needed help and came forward. It was a powerful moment for me, not only because he appreciated my help, but more so the struggle in me to even offer the help. It made me realise how far I am from the command to love others.
And that's the reality isn't it? This is such an easy example and yet I had to will myself to do it. What more if someone really needs our help? What if someone needed our last dollar? A place to stay for the night?
When I went to M&S at Victoria after getting off the train, I saw a short Chinese old lady struggling to get hold of a pack of vegetables from the top shelf - typically, she didn't want the pack at the front but was trying to get one of those in the back :). I reached out and got it for her and she smiled and gave me a friendly tap on the arm. And so this was another lesson. Sometimes if we are not too caught up in our own world, if we are observant, if we are not too worried about what others might think (what's the worst that could happen if our help isn't needed or appreciated?), we see all the wonderful opportunities to show love for others. (I could not help but think of Groundhog Day, when Bill Murray finally realises that he cannot win the love of Andie McDowell by manipulating her - and because it was meaningless to do so. And so he ends up spending his day(s) trying to do the most good he can, even though he is cursed to repeat the day again the next morning. It is in essence, the most Biblical reference in the movie, because he is saved when he finally puts the love of his fellow men above everything else.)
(The sermon that day was Matthew 15:21-28 The Faith of a Canaanite Woman. It was really insightful for me as that was a passage I had had difficulties with in the past. Why were those discouraging words said to her? Sometimes, the situation has to evolve or unfold, for a greater truth to emerge. A Gentile, told that she was not his intended audience, persisted with her great faith (confirmed by Jesus) and give us hope that He loves all who worship him.)
P.S. The struggle to love others is real. Once I encountered someone in church, in the toilet. This person had sat in my car before, we've had conversations before, but on this day, I was invisible. I even said "hello" but there was no acknowledgement. I felt sad, at first for myself because I wondered how I had become a non-entity to him. But after my reflections above, I felt sad for him, a person who could wax lyrical on the Bible but yet struggled to show love or extend a hand of fellowship. In church.
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