Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank, Part 7

Episode 7: Peter Changes Religion.
Peter (24 years) had been attending (and wonderfully enjoying) the Anglican Church -- High Church of England -- for most all of his life. He had been a chorister (first a boy soprano and later a tenor/baritone) for 16 years and was involved with youth and men's social groups, the Religious Drama Society, was a Server at the altar, a Sides-man at lesser services and occasionally a Deacon at High Mass. His life revolved around the church with services every day, three and sometimes four times on Sundays and feast days, and he cluttered his busy life with numerous committees, clubs, societies and other involvements in between. But it seemed that one thing lacked.
He knew and could recite his Catechism, the Chorister's Handbook, all 150 metrical psalms, the Mass and other services from the Book of Common Prayer, and the few selections from the Holy Bible which appeared within the pages of the prayer book. Peter measured time by the feasts of the Saints from one Michaelmas to another and apparently lamented a feria (non-feastday) in between. And yet something was missing.
He knew the names of and the reason for each item of vestment the priest wore and the associated prayers relative to the adorning of each garment. But still he felt an unexplained hollowness.
He had familiarised himself with the reason behind each colour chosen to adorn the altar in relation to each feast day -- both major and minor, yet still an emptiness tugged within.
To the ultimate frustration of his Latin master, he probed the ecclesiastical aspect of Latin in almost every language lesson in his upper primary school years. He attended music camps for choirboys and men, took to music lessons with almost unparalleled enthusiasm and delved deeply into an extensive study of church music from Asaph to Plainsong -- from J S Bach to Martin Shaw, and through to the contemporary. He loved his church -- its fellowship, friendship, companionship, mate-ship, and worship. And yet...?
He endeavoured to be the white sheep of his family, with a prayer journal to make a Pope proud, an history of good deeds to outshine every other Boy Scout, and a conceited abstinence from the defilements of swearing, immorality, tobacco and alcohol. However he lacked a certainty of salvation and so, in consequence, he became such a "goody-goody" that he frustrated everybody -- the priest in the confessional, the fast-shrinking circle of companions within his peers, himself for his ever-regular and oft-repeated failings, his rapid-dwindling cluster of adult friends and his parents who sought for an ulterior motive lurking within his behaviour.
Finally, one day, an observant young lady commented on his seeming religious indifference despite a pretence of Christianity. He replied to her that his church going had been filled with busyness, business and emptiness - a strange admix of being absent yet occupied, of being involved, revolved, interested yet bored, held back yet thrust forward, and challenged yet letharged.
To his astonishment he found himself verbalising his uncertainties. She invited him to attend her church some day but he was quick to retort that his Sundays were summarily occupied. Undaunted, she saw this as no obstacle and responded without hesitation that her church meets on Saturday. Assuming she meant that her church ALSO met on Saturday (in addition to Sunday, Monday, etc.) he asked for it's location.
Saturday found him seated in the pew of a strangely familiar and comfortable worship environment. In some mysterious way he didn't notice the absence of a colourfully decorated altar, the absence of ecclesiastical vestments, incense, candles, crucifixes, nor the bells and smells. He did notice the unfamiliar hymns, but as the book-rest on the pew had provided him with a music edition of the hymnal -- with the practiced chorister's skill in "sight-reading" music -- he joined in the hymn singing with gusto (so much so that the organist caught his eye more than once during the service). All too soon the service finished and the organist hurried to greet him and ask the seemingly mandatory, "Where are you from?" To the revealed surprise of the organist, an Anglican church was cited rather than an Adventist one, and to Peter's amazement, the organist replied with an invitation for the wide-eyed visitor to don chorister's robes and join the choir for the Divine Service which was to follow. Such astonishment on both sides allows for no hesitation, and the unfamiliarity of the order of service was laid to rest, as he became absorbed in the singing, the Bible-based preaching and apparent sincerity of the believers.
The shame of what happened next could only be absorbed in the reflective light of the baptism which followed a few weeks later. To the utter frustration of the spouse and daughter waiting in the car, the organist and Peter retired to a side room and spent the entire afternoon seeking biblical answers to a barrage of questions about these strange people who "seem to take this Saturday business very seriously".
Fortunately, the organist's wife saved the day by curving a nose around the corner of the door jam and inviting the absorbed pair to continue their animated conversation in her lounge-room following the refreshment afforded by an evening meal.
The invitation was welcomingly accepted, however temperance at the table was wasted as another form of intemperance eked the postprandile study into the wee small hours of the morning. Finally, in reluctance, with much more to learn, Peter returned home, his head spinning and his heart eager to find out more.
A midweek Bible study group, personal visits by the Pastor, and the blessings of subsequent Sabbaths meant that Peter, as he came to a knowledge of further things biblical, was compelled to make some hard decisions. For many weeks he was quite able to worship on Sabbath in addition to Sunday, was able and willing to pay tithe to two churches, was content to be a Sabbath-day vegetarian, was even prepared to be baptised by immersion -- but to continue to be fully involved in the Church of England with the tuggings of SDA membership at the sleeve of his conscience, he was finally resigned to the fact that he had to choose one or the other. The Anglican Church had the strong lure of security, comfort, predictability, and the music he had grown to love over the years. The Adventist Church offered him the opportunity to be able to learn to get to know, love and share God personally and to worship Him in His way (these two factors (Peter would later realise) summed up the totality of Adventist doctrine).
Peter finally broke his religious bonds with the church of his youth and, although the social ties remain until this day, the lesson for Peter is not finished yet.


-- Lionel Hartley, Not Finished Yet -- Chronicles in the Life of Peter Blank
"This serial saga, although novel, is not a novel. It is merely a series of true-life episodes highlighting the extraordinary working of an extraordinary God in a very ordinary life. Each episode contained a lesson for Peter Blank, a lesson we can all learn, from a lesson-book life that is not finished yet."
As first appeared in FreEzine Magazine July 2000 ff