Over a nice dimsum breakfast, my aunt related this amazing story:
Pastor So and So, from the Tabernacle of So and So was on his way to check emails at his church office... at 10pm. I wanted to ask - but decided against it - if there were any particularly tempting temps working with said pastor. Anyway... pastor feels a tummy ache and through years of quiet contemplation, concluded it was God's way of telling him to go home and enjoy a satisfying shit.
When he returns the next morning to answer needy emails, he discovers his church hit by petrol bombs, and had indeed become,
'A Church On Fire'. Good news is, our government's given them a 500k grant to rebuild. Plus MCA has lent them their hall for Sunday services in the interim.
My aunt of course praises God. I obviously try to curb her enthusiasm. "God spoke through a stomach ache?" I ask. Why can't we have the talking donkey again? This happy ending has re-invigorated prayer meetings and re-energized the fervent.
"So everyone's praying for more churches to be burnt?" i continue.
She laughs a silly laugh. I join her, accepting the futility of the Christian way.
I know now the moment everything came crashing down for CLGC, we were forced on a journey that if nothing else, has taught us to skeptically evaluate any sort of providence before heaping credit His way.
If i sat under an apple tree famished and one fell on my head, i say "Thanks Lord for apple trees."
But if an apple fell on my head and as it rolled across the ground, transformed into a strudel complete with a side of fresh cream, i fall face down and repent. Such extravagance can only be His doing.
