As the Good Book has it, "For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them."
Which gives me a small amount of comfort as I notice that, for this inaugural service of Bogwulf Baptist Church (formerly the Chapel of St Bogwulf) I am the only person present. If we include the persons of the Trinity, that brings us up to four. Or, if you are a Oneness Pentecostal, two. But Oneness Pentecostals are notoriously innumerate as well as heretical.
From across the lawn I hear the sounds of "Fairytale of New York" as the Beaker Folk celebrate the Feast of St Kirsty. Their so-called worship, devoid of content, devoid of doctrine, devoid of the fear of hell and damnation - well, frankly, from inside this cold chapel it feels quite attractive.
But I shall not be moved. Like Elijah in his cave, or like Moses on the mountain, or like Bunyan in his dungeon by Bedford bridge - I will hold fast while all others are swayed by the ways of this world. I shall sing my Baptist songs unaccompanied. I shall pray for revival in the land. When I return to the Great House for my lunch (Autumngirlsoup, whatever that is), I shall sit and glower with godly intensity. I shall not criticise, or indeed anathematise - for, technically, no Beaker worship has any doctrinal content, either for weal or woe - but I shall make it clear that I am following the better way - the narrow path, which is unadorned either with pebbles or tea lights. Or indeed any chance of self-expression. I shall need neither Taizé nor Enya as I shiver here and wish I had enough congregation to raise a collection to put 50p in the meter that "Archdruid" Eileen has installed.
And now I shall sing "O for a thousand tongues to sing". Which would help no end.
We shall see.
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