I am always open and willing to learn. And so I was happy to take a guided tour of the Moot House where she leads her godless services. I even - for I am not one to shout loudly of eating meat sacrificed to idols - I even, brothers and sisters, agreed to wear a mask on my face, and stayed 4 cubits from her at all times.
I would be remiss, brethren and suitably-guided womenfolk of those brethren, if I were not to mention that I could not have been any closer to the woman even if I had wanted to be (not that I would ever be within 4 cubits of a woman when unchaperoned - temptation lurks therein). For she was swinging her Slazenger V400 cricket bat around her head at all times to ensure it was a matter of "thus far and no further".
The Moot House is currently a veritable site of wonder. Eileen has divided it up into literal "bubbles". Each family attending worship sits in a 5-cubit-high perspex container, with electric wheels underneath and its own air supply dropping from the ceiling. Those attending Beaker worship (for I believe they worship beakers) are thus sealed from all human contact. To be "on the safe side", the bubbles rain down jets of sanitizing fluid onto their inhabitants at points during the service.
But compare this to my own Bogwulf Chapel. The Bogwulf Funambulist Baptists have no fear of the works of Degenerates' Flu - for they are not degenerates. They take no notice of the Government's half-hearted warnings - even less so since we discovered that Boris Johnson is apparently a godless Roman Catholic. And not a godless Anglican as we had always assumed.
No. At Bogwulf we know that to socially distance is not to love God. For "perfect love casts out fear". And so we are happy to join in the safety of our own congregation, trusting in God, whatever the R (for "renegade against God") factor. We fear not an invisible virus - for we believe in the invisible God. And which is greater, I ask you? A virus or God? God, obviously. Viruses are tiny. Really, really small. Whereas God is higher than a skyscraper and deeper than a trampoline. We wait not for the vaccines and cures of science. For we have laying-on of hands and we anoint, not with sanitizing liquid, but with holy oil. We will not wear masks, for our hearts are pure and our songs are of victory.
But, we asked ourselves, why should we restrain ourselves from fear just in the case of one tiny virus? Do we not have faith in the Lord who guides? Does not God say, "I will instruct thee and teach thee in the way which thou shalt go: I will guide thee with mine eye"? And "a little child will lead them"? That is why all Bogwulf Baptists that come to church by car, are driven by the youngest members of the family. And yes, for the Dripsby Family, that is not surprising - for they are all aged over 80. But little Nebuchadrezzar Strange, at four years of age, will be in charge of his father's new Toyota to come to church on Sunday. He will not be able both to work the pedals and see over the dashboard, but he has faith. Truly little Nebuchadrezzar is an example to us all.
Likewise we fear not the power of God, whether in earthquake, wind and fire. That is why we scorn the lightning conductor that was fitted to the chapel roof. Not that we took it down - that would be merely reckless for the Lord. No, to achieve the full "fools for God" to which we aspire, we have connected it to the lectern in the pulpit.
Brothers (and carefully instructed sisters), I have an update on Revd Nathaneal Jupp, who fell ill on Sunday morning while acting as our guest preacher. He died this morning. Normally we rejoice in the death of a true believer. However, since he was electrocutedduring a thunderstorm, we must assume he was in fact a wolf in Baptist's clothing, judged by God, struck down before our eyes as a sinner, and no doubt destined for hell. Our thoughts and prayers are with his widow, and we hope she finds a more godly husband at some time as appointed by God in the future.
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