The Norm

Even fairies would have envied this fairytale wedding. My good friend Tom, a guy I lived with for six months, got married to a lovely girl called Sophie last week. She is from a place called Bath, and Tom rarely has a bath. To quote the vicar: “These two are the opposite of each other, but God knows they are the right person for each other.” I cried like a puppy when he said that.

The mansion in which they wed overwhelmed me and my bread-stealing flatmate Paddy. We headed straight for the champagne table after the service. And after that we hit the oldest pub in England for some “Real ale” not this lager tripe. There was so many overwhelming moments last weekend I could have churned out a million blogs, but there is one that sticks out.

Tom and Sophie follow Jesus. For me this makes the whole wedding thing a different kettle of fish. I’ve been to a load of weddings, but when the bride and groom are glowing during the songs of worship, something inside me snaps. I guess it adds a lot more to the vicar’s words of “God’s plan for our lives.”

The problem with public places is that you can’t really hide. So when I stand alongside non-church going friends, I always get really worried they’re going to think I’m one of the abnormal freaks that get carried away with this whole God thing. This started to happen at the wedding. I saw the faces of a few non-church going friends as people started to sing passionately about Jesus. My stomach started turning. I guess this happened because up until the age of 16 I did not put my faith in Jesus and I know exactly what people are thinking.

And then it happened. My bread-stealing flatmate Paddy lifted his hands in worship. I looked at the bride and groom in the hope they would calm his passions not to freak out the those who were not used to this sort of thing.

And as my eyes darted around the room, it hit me; hold on, here we are celebrating the wedding of two people who follow Jesus. I follow Jesus. I love Jesus. The things he has done in my life cannot even be compared to anything else. In fact, if we were created by a creator, then to respond in thanks is a normal thing. Though my bread-stealing flatmate was one of the few with his hands raised and smile a’growing, he was perfectly normal. There is not one atom of my character that believes we were not created by God to have a relationship with him.

I lifted my hands. And why not. I’m sick of feeling ashamed of my love for my creator. And yes it makes atheists uncomfortable, but when they talk of meaninglessness I don’t mention a word. I sit quietly like someone who has no opinion though my Jesus died on a cross outside Jerusalem to set the world free.

My only regret is that I didn’t jump up and down in the wedding. I should have taken a flag and a tambourine.