Commercial and bureaucratic hindrances collided with an uncontrollable reality: the faith of many players.
A big Harley, with a roar that would make hell tremble, is parked in front of the church door.
Should I grow a beard or not?
I decided not to make a decision and so now I have one!
And what about you? Can’t you make a decision to follow God?
Well, it’s the same (not deciding is saying no).
‘Hey! Look! It’s Jesus!’
Since I grew a beard this mockery is the new order of the day.
But never mind, I have an answer to dish out to them:
‘Watch out or I’ll turn you into wine and drink you down in one!’
The bikers’ church
A big Harley, with a roar that would make hell tremble, is parked in front of the church door. A horde of survivors from the Viking era are leaning against the bar, inside that building (the ‘wonderbar’). In leathers, with plaited hair and long beards, screw nuts as earrings, and tattoos, and the parishioners of this church readily speak English.
But what most impresses me is their eyes, full of love, welcoming you, whoever you are. These are people who have met Jesus personally and who, these days, are sometimes the best witnesses in the dangerous, infamous world of Hell’s Angels.
This evening I am sharing my testimony in Swiss German (much more terrifying than in French!) behind the pulpit (the front part of a big motorbike!).
After a good laugh and a pint in their merry company, I am going to sleep in the church dormitories (yeah! ‘cos they also offer hospitality).
The following morning, I roll up at another church (no connection) in the neighbourhood...
With my bandana on my head and my pirate face still groggy with sleep, the guys in charge, rather ill at ease, think at first that they are welcoming a down-and-out thirsting for repentance... What a surprise when it dawns on them that I am the main speaker!
I am a bit of a blot on the landscape amidst all these people in their fine Sunday best, but when I start to give my testimony, they can see past the outward packaging. I simply relate to them how Jesus managed to reach out to me as a teenager and the whole church is moved.
It’s no longer a question of style or social class now, because God is there and touches our hearts.
The beard of beards!
There’s yoghurt drying in it and my fork gets caught in the hairs, so I nibble at it... Yuck! That’s it - today I’m shaving it off...
(Too bad about the flowers growing in it!)