on not putting the cart before the horse

So, we had a bit of a debate at the corps on Sunday morning (always the best time for such things!) about whether or not people who are drunk should be allowed to come in. Since I'm the boss (Tim was home sick, so I didn't even share that role), I get to call the shots, and of course I said YES! My only rule is, no violence. But if someone is drunk, even (especially!) if they fall asleep in the corner, I don't mind as long as they don't bother anyone else (even dancing during the meeting is allowed)! I mean, I DO mind, as in, it DOES bother me that these people are alcoholics; of course, it breaks my heart! But I mean, they are certainly welcome to come in to The Salvation Army any time! I honestly cannot imagine kicking someone out just because he happens to be intoxicated!

So. That was how Sunday morning started, literally the very beginning of the day. I did have to take a big bottle of beer away and pour it out into the street quite angrily, because they were passing it back and forth inside the corps. But after that, everything was fine! :-)

Anyway, it got me thinking about this book that I'm reading. It's Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith by Anne Lamott. (Trip to America means new books to read!!!) And I want to share some excerpts with you, if you don't mind. (And since I'm the boss of this blog, I get to make those decisions, too!) :-) This is the G-rated version of her story....

[describing her first months visiting a church]

Something inside me that was stiff and rotting would feel soft and tender.... Sitting there, standing with them to sing, sometimes so shaky and sick that I felt like I might tip over, I felt bigger than myself, like I was being taken care of, tricked into coming back to life....

[describing something that happened at night when she was home]

After a while, as I lay there, I became aware of someone with me, hunkered down in the corner.... The feeling was so strong that I actually turned on the light for a moment to make sure no one was there -- of course, there wasn't. But after a while, in the dark again, I knew beyond any doubt that it was Jesus. I felt him as surely as I feel my dog lying nearby as I write this.

And I was appalled.... I thought about what everyone would think of me if I became a Christian, and it seemed an utterly impossible thing that simply could not be allowed to happen. I turned to the wall and said out loud, "I would rather die."

I felt him just sitting there on his haunches in the corner of my sleeping loft, watching me with patience and love, and I squinched my eyes shut, but that didn't help because that's not what I was seeing him with....

And one week later, when I went back to church, I was so hungover that I couldn't stand up for the songs.... I felt like their voices or something was rocking me in its bosom, holding me like a scared kid, and I opened up to that feeling -- and it washed over me.

I began to cry and left before the benediction, and I raced home ... and I opened the door ... and I stood there a minute, and then I hung my head and said, "... I quit." I took a long deep breath and said out loud, "All right. You can come in."

So this was my beautiful moment of conversion....

Finally, one morning ..., I woke up so sick and in such despair for the umpteenth day in a row that I knew that I was either going to die or have to quit drinking. I poured a bottle ... down the sink ... and entered into recovery with fear and trembling. I was not sure that I could or even wanted to go one day without drinking.... But it turned out that I could and that a whole lot of people were going to help me, with kind eyes and hot cups of bad coffee.

I'll have to stop there, but my prayer is surely that such stories would be told about us! First acceptance and love, then conversion, then a changed life.

Evelyn