I giggled. And giggled. Trudy refused to look at me while she served the man in the shop. One would have thought his attire was invisible the way she kept a straight face. But the reason she did not join me in my mirth was because she did not consider anything to be funny. Here was a man, a Christian brother, wanting an item and she was serving him just like she would do anybody else.
This man usually roamed around outside. He said nothing to passers-by, but gawped at them hoping his outer garments would trigger a conversation about God.
I think people mostly avoided both him and his gaze. I think also, that it was obvious to them how the conversation would begin should they be brave enough to smile at him.
I had never seen him enter the shop before and I would have expected him to have removed his cardboard clothes before he did so.
Yes, he was:
The Sandwich Board Guy
A heavy block of wood was draped over either side of his shoulders held together by string. His face was as sombre as his message and I thought he looked hilarious. I was also rather embarrassed that this man was representing Christianity. The message on the board said the usual,
“Repent ye, for the kingdom of Heaven draweth nigh.”
As soon as he left, I began to laugh once more.
Trudy gave me one of those glares which I interpreted as, “Stop being so immature!”
“Well, yes,” she began. “he is spreading the word of God. He’s just doing it in a different way that’s all.”
I hung my head in shame. She was correct. I did not know this man and had no idea of his intentions. I didn’t have any right to judge him or express mockery for his weird dress-sense. He was doing what he thought was appropriate and to his credit, did not shout damnation phrases at anyone. He was walking around with a bible verse in the hope that somebody would read it, digest it, and let it penetrate their heart. What was I doing? Standing there giggling and reaching out to nobody at all.
Megaphone Gang
There were other people who did shout out ‘Hell and Brimstone’ messages at people in the street. Their form of evangelism was always quite loud because they used a bullhorn and spoke with a stern expression.
One Saturday when their message was drowning out the music in the shop, I had an idea. The preacher was usually accompanied by six to eight evangelists who would stand around him while he spoke. They sometimes handed out leaflets to passers-by, and I assumed that their mission was to get a conversation going about the Lord. I challenged my young colleague who was stood next to me by the till. It was a quiet afternoon, and he was bored, having completed all his jobs in the morning.
“I dare you… to go outside and approach one of the evangelists. Say to them, ‘What must I do to be saved?’”
“Okay.” he said, jumping at the chance to have a little fun. “What do you think they’ll say?”
Each time I worked with this lad, he had strolled into the shop bleary-eyed, confessing that it was owing to a hangover after some kind of party the night before. For two other reasons that I will not share with you, I suspected that he was struggling with his Christian identity, so I thought it would do him no harm to have a little chat with our church family outside.
“Well, they should ‘give you the gospel’ at least.” I replied.
He rushed out the door, eager to perform his task and I was very eager to hear the results.
To my dismay, he wasn’t gone for more than five minutes.
I frowned at him incredulously.
“How come you are back so soon? Did you ask them the question?”
“Yes.” he replied. “I said exactly what you told me to say.”
“Well?”
He furrowed his brow in a mixture of confusion and disappointment.
“They said, “Stop interrupting.”
