A Methodist to my Madness
One meets interesting characters in the Mekong Crossing, a place I have come to think of as "Joe's Bar" rather than its official name. I had retired there after my interesting and disasterous moto driver excesses, and had sipped gin as the sun set slowly over the river, sinking reluctantly into the horizen as if it longed to stay upon its cloud-borne throne. After sitting for a while in quiet contemplation, staring fixedly at the bobbing chunk of lime in my glass, my compatriot Steven came upon me and sat down at the table with the kind of relieved slump only someone who works with relatives can achieve.
We bantered back and forth for a while, neither of us having the energy or inclination to seek out any form of entertainment that night, but we shared an unspoken agreement to let it come to us this night. We did not have to wait long, but it came from a most unexpected quarter.
A man in his mid-fifties, bearded and with eyes creased from long years of smiling entered the bar with a certain glow of pride about him. Joe greeted him warmly, and was informed in short order that the newcomer, named Christopher, had just become a father. His Japanese wife had borne him a healthy son, and he was overjoyed at this turn of events.
Steven and I swiftly invited him to our table, and I insisted on paying for his food and drinks for the rest of the evening, out of congratulations. As conversation turned towards introductions, he revealed that he was a methodist minister, working with one of the few churches here in Cambodia that does not foster "Rice Christians". IE, his Church, unlike the Seventh Day Adventists and Mormons (spit on their names) who say to the impoverished and desperate locals "Convert today and win fabulous prizes! Have some Rice, have some money! Now you are Christians! By the way, Buddhism is devil worship!" which is something that disgusts Steven and myself.
This fellow was highly intelligent and very well travelled, however, and was one of those few genuinely good Christians one meets from time to time, if one is lucky. In fact, not only did he not preach to Steven and I, despite our confirmed sinner status, he made a valient effort to steer conversation away from religion, because he worried he was manipulating the conversation with his own agenda. To his delight, however, I have an abiding interest in Theology and we discussed everything from the Book of Job to CS Lewis and Disney Movies.
In a pleasant turn of events, he agreed with many aspects of my personal philosophy; Christianity is too obsessed with the image of Christ on the cross, focusing on his morbid death rather than his beautiful life and subsequent rebirth, which I feel is the true message of his sacrifice, and that organized religions, and to an extent the bible itself, is the word of God distorted through the lens of Man. Christopher was open-minded, but held his convictions strongly, which led to a stimulating and enjoyable philosophical discussion that went on long into the night, something I have missed of late, as most of my friends are athiests or Deists with no real interest in religion. I myself am always happy to speak with intelligent and open-minded spiritual leaders of all creeds, and enjoy learning with a passionate fervor.
At the end of the night, when Joe was closing up, we exchanged firm handshakes and smiles, and he told me he felt blessed to have met me. I myself had very much enjoyed our spiritual banter, and so we made arrangements to do the same next Sunday, when he was back in town. After we left, Steven commented to me that he was surprised I was so well versed in Christianity, and though he had largely stayed silent through our debate, he said he had enjoyed seeing the rapid back-and-forth of the conversation, as Christopher and I quoted scriptures at eachother and swapped stories, rolling our eyes at Catholic guilt and Pentecostal lunacy. To this I answered him that I am a man of hidden depths, and he seemed satisfied by this explanation.
I am eagerly anticipating round two next Sunday.
We bantered back and forth for a while, neither of us having the energy or inclination to seek out any form of entertainment that night, but we shared an unspoken agreement to let it come to us this night. We did not have to wait long, but it came from a most unexpected quarter.
A man in his mid-fifties, bearded and with eyes creased from long years of smiling entered the bar with a certain glow of pride about him. Joe greeted him warmly, and was informed in short order that the newcomer, named Christopher, had just become a father. His Japanese wife had borne him a healthy son, and he was overjoyed at this turn of events.
Steven and I swiftly invited him to our table, and I insisted on paying for his food and drinks for the rest of the evening, out of congratulations. As conversation turned towards introductions, he revealed that he was a methodist minister, working with one of the few churches here in Cambodia that does not foster "Rice Christians". IE, his Church, unlike the Seventh Day Adventists and Mormons (spit on their names) who say to the impoverished and desperate locals "Convert today and win fabulous prizes! Have some Rice, have some money! Now you are Christians! By the way, Buddhism is devil worship!" which is something that disgusts Steven and myself.
This fellow was highly intelligent and very well travelled, however, and was one of those few genuinely good Christians one meets from time to time, if one is lucky. In fact, not only did he not preach to Steven and I, despite our confirmed sinner status, he made a valient effort to steer conversation away from religion, because he worried he was manipulating the conversation with his own agenda. To his delight, however, I have an abiding interest in Theology and we discussed everything from the Book of Job to CS Lewis and Disney Movies.
In a pleasant turn of events, he agreed with many aspects of my personal philosophy; Christianity is too obsessed with the image of Christ on the cross, focusing on his morbid death rather than his beautiful life and subsequent rebirth, which I feel is the true message of his sacrifice, and that organized religions, and to an extent the bible itself, is the word of God distorted through the lens of Man. Christopher was open-minded, but held his convictions strongly, which led to a stimulating and enjoyable philosophical discussion that went on long into the night, something I have missed of late, as most of my friends are athiests or Deists with no real interest in religion. I myself am always happy to speak with intelligent and open-minded spiritual leaders of all creeds, and enjoy learning with a passionate fervor.
At the end of the night, when Joe was closing up, we exchanged firm handshakes and smiles, and he told me he felt blessed to have met me. I myself had very much enjoyed our spiritual banter, and so we made arrangements to do the same next Sunday, when he was back in town. After we left, Steven commented to me that he was surprised I was so well versed in Christianity, and though he had largely stayed silent through our debate, he said he had enjoyed seeing the rapid back-and-forth of the conversation, as Christopher and I quoted scriptures at eachother and swapped stories, rolling our eyes at Catholic guilt and Pentecostal lunacy. To this I answered him that I am a man of hidden depths, and he seemed satisfied by this explanation.
I am eagerly anticipating round two next Sunday.