Today I had a sense of guilt mid-morning, due to the fact that I have not located an English-speaking Church to attend. This is my own fault as I am aware that somewhere in the vicinity there is a part speaking Church where apparently half the service is in French and the other half is in English as there is quite a few English who have now either retired here or have moved here and make their living here. I have tried the local Church a few times, yet there never seems to be anyone around.
I pray and have worship on, where I am stopping for 3 months. I read and study Gods Word extensively, daily. Yet there seems to be a void where worshipping together with other Christians normally is. It doesn’t matter whether I know them or the building or the music at all. What I miss is the sense of other brothers and sisters coming together in unity to praise The Lord.
So, this morning, after doing my reading, I was just sat there in contemplation wondering what I was going to do next in relation to study when we heard a noise near the side of the house, WOOF WOOF-WOOF went Bertie!
It’s unusual to hear anything out of the ordinary here, so anything is heard quite clearly. All was fine. It turned out to be a man who was dropping off his trailer temporarily. He was going somewhere and on his way back was going to collect some fencing. He told me that him and his wife where going to the Big Car Boot Sale at Bulat Pestivien.
Hmmm, I thought, I may go, sounded interesting! I haven’t seen a throng of people here since I arrived, a couple here and there at the supermarket, a handful at the market in Callac on Wednesday but not a lot . It wasn’t the knowledge of people that I needed, I’m quite fine with solitude it was sort of to try to get a clearer understanding of the people and the culture whilst I am here.
So, we got ready. For me donning a thick jacket and boots as there was still a chilly morning mist hovering around and Bertie, well he was ready. So off we went in the motorhome. It was only just about 4 miles away so the heater hadn’t even warmed up when we arrived. Parking in a field under a big old tree. There was a lot of cars and vans parked up, so it must be busy I thought.
The thought didn’t leave me about not being in a Church when I would normally be attending and worshipping wherever I am, it is only 4 years since I first walked into a church and only just short of 3 years since I was saved by the grace of God, this wasn’t a circumstance within my control.
As we started to walk around, it soon became apparent that for a small village there was a lot of stalls here and consequently a lot of people of all ages. The stalls had a huge variety of items for sale and the holders where of mainly French and English origin. There was a mixture of language and accents, lots from the south coast of England, Cornish, Somerset and Kentish. The air had a blend of rich aromas from the hot food, jacket potatoes, oils, onions etc. Then occasionally punched out of the way by the heaviness of strong tobacco.
I thought of the descriptions of the sweet aromas to be prepared as an offering to the Lord that I was studying yesterday.
There was a lot of other dog owners there, there canine friends of all varieties. They like Bertie wanted to stop at each new one for a “Hello “and a sniff around. We were quite bemused by the varieties of chickens in cages for sale, broilers, pullets, bantams, cockerels too with their overgrown plumage. We are not that used to seeing live animals for sale in the UK. It was a bit like in Jesus’ day when He turned around in the temple and chased out the money changers and dove sellers.
There was military regalia, wooden furniture mixed with old toys and car parts, rusty bikes and ceramic plates, LPs and players, all manner of antiquated stuff.
In the centre of the village surrounded by all this , stood the village church. It was huge for such a small village that its height would be more suited if compared to Lincoln Cathedral!
We had a look around away from the melee. It was built on the site of previous 15th century sanctuaries on a major pilgrimage route. My thoughts and prayers were to God in His Glory in the highest, as I thought of the perilous routes these multitudes had taken over the centuries. The spire was an impressive structure indeed, a hollowed-out tower measuring 66 metres, which led me to thinking, 66m, that’s a metre for every book of the Bible, 66, that’s how many days study that I am doing and those who are reading alongside. That’s 1metre of height per book, per day! Praise God.
Intermingled in boxes and trunks, was a variety of religious artefacts. Lots of catholic nature, paintings of the Virgin Mary, the Last supper. There were wooden and brass crosses. It isn’t for me to comment what is right and what is wrong. People have been directed in many different ways over countless centuries. It is by the Grace of God that we are saved. Not that any man should boast, save in the cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
We even saw a yoke, which was supposed to be the theme today. It just shows me how light it is! Much Love
I may not have attended a church today, but I am surrounded by His Love, His Light, His Word for His Glory.