For the first time in as long as I can remember, there was communion in church this morning.
After eighteen months of interloping as a pisky at St Silas, it took this morning’s sacrament to remind myself that us Presbyterians don’t really believe in doing communion too often. Presumably if it we did it regularly, our sermons would have to be much, much shorter and that just wouldn’t be on.
The communion was all done in an interesting new format (for Hilton) that involved going forward to receive the wine in big long lines, with lovely echoey choral music playing in the background. It somewhat reminded me of being back at St Silas.
Then afterwards, we were invited to turn to our neighbours and give them “the peace of the Lord Jesus Christ”. Someone near me exclaimed “this is all getting a bit Anglican!”. I laughed rather too loudly.
As I write, I’m just about to head off to the evening service: if the winds of change really are blowing through Hilton, maybe I should be expecting holy water, liturgy, incense, and a bearded man in a cardigan leading us on the guitar through back-to-back Kendrick songs…
God, I hope not.