The Road Goes Ever On

In my darker moments - and occasionally I have them, although I know I should not, for perfect love should cast out fear - but in my darker moments I sometimes think that the Baptibus is not such a great idea.

Eileen has been very kind. She not only allows us to borrow the Shuttle from her Community (at a reasonable price) but she has even agreed to us applying temporary transfers to the side each week. They read "Bogwulf Independent Baptist Church - climbing the tightrope to Heaven". But with the price of the transfers, and the rental of the Shuttle and the sheer amount of diesel involved...I am not convinced, Holy Brother (I need not refer to the weaker and more easily swayed sex here, as these are deep matters of accountancy and stewardship of Church money, with which they should not be worrying their heads) - I am not convinced that it's worth the offering we get back in.

Not that we should measure the cost of a soul in the price of the fuel to save it. But by my reckoning it costeth us about £100 each Sunday to collect just seven people, who between them contribute maybe £7 to the coffers. Now, I know what you are saying brethren - again, I refer only to the Brothers, as this is a matter of teaching and exhortation - you are saying, what profiteth a man who saves £93 a week but loseth his soul? And this is a sound question. But I do wonder - in the grey of the morning, when my mind becomes confused - surely there must be some, relatively holy, fairly orthodox Baptist church they could attend, where they might still be saved and we wouldn't have to invest all this time and effort in collecting and returning them.

Still, I can enjoy the rest of this Sabbath in peace. It is over for tonight. I have returned all seven worshippers and come back to the Manse for a refreshing cup of water. It is not easy, driving all over Bedfordshire to deliver people to their houses in many different villages. One could easily lose the path - which is, indeed, often narrow. So often the broad and easy way is the way that leads to Milton Keynes, and then one would be truly lost. I am often ruefully grateful for that insistent voice in the car that tells me repeatedly when to turn to left or right, how far away the destination is and even - quite impressively - can warn me when I am driving too fast - although sometimes you're tempted to tell it to be quiet. But on balance I really don't know what I would do without Marjorie.