So I was in my room watching gospel videos and truly getting into it. By getting into it I meant shouting and hollering and bawling and whooping and jumping and stomping. Almost as though my football team had won something, except this was something that actually mattered.
In the comfort and privacy of my own home I can carry on that way and get no grief. Now obviously some elements of such exuberant celebration of the Greatest Being of All Creation would be deemed somewhat culturally inappropriate and awkward. In some circles it would not makes sense to operate in such a manner. Yet I am not ashamed to admit that’s how excited I get – sometimes – about Jesus.
To some, however, I should be keeping all this excitement and the related narrative to myself. I should not impose this on others. It is a very British sensibility. Part of the hypocritical stiff upper lip, restrained, ‘it’s just not cricket’ mentality that expects you to just keep plodding on. And apparently this applies to faith as well. God is good, that is nice, we’ll have a quaint get together in our holy huddle at the end of the week, and say no more about it. After all, we wouldn’t want to intrude.
For His Name’s Sake
Shalom
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