My Story 12.2

12,2
At another time there was a Pentecostal conference in Hilversum. Just before that our local church had gained a family of converts including Herman O., a big guy a few years older then me. In an effort to "shepherd" him into his new Christian lifestyle he was invited to come along to Hilversum, and I was asked to befriend him.

I soon realized that this particular conference was not suitable for a guy like him. Pentecostals tend to get very serious, and the preaching was certainly beyond Herman's understanding. In addition the meetings were very long and drawn out.

One lady, a pastors wife, was into poetry and reading. As I understand it, she was well known in dramatic circles for her readings. She had written a poem about a child, a relative who was sick and subsequently had died. Here and there in the people in the audience were moved and pinked away a tear. At last she herself was overcome with tears and could not continue her reading for a minute. There was a weird silence in the room. Herman looked at me puzzled and said something like this: "Is it always like this in church?" I whispered:" Nah,...., just look at that, she is sniffling at her own junk...." Herman perceived this as funny and burst out in a loud uncontrolled laugh. And he would not stop. Ruined the whole atmosphere!! I was never more embarrassed. All the eyes were now fixed on us in a silent, but stern rebuke. I finally managed to usher him out of the building to talk to Herman on the parking lot.

We were soon surrounded by people giving us a comment or two. I am not even going to try and tell of the various rebukes we received. The people talking to us outside were nothing like the saints they were when inside the building. Herman in particular found it hard to digest what he had learned that day. But when he got home, for him it was over, and he was safe. I, on the other hand, had to deal with additional comments for weeks to come.