So I need to write about this, but I will try my best to not be all preachy and come across like a crazy person. I'm British, and so naturally believe that Religion and Politics are not discussion topics for polite company, but you will have to excuse my manners a little because this was a pretty big deal.
I only went and got myself baptised. Oh yes. I took the plunge, and got rid of all those nasty sins. Okay, quips aside, let's get down to business. This is what happened:
When I was in Uganda I underwent a series of changes, a bit of soul-searching, a touch of heart-ache and a big dollop of drama. For peace, routine, reflection, singing (man, I love the singing) and because it's fun to dress up, I used to go along to church every Sunday. Church-going in Uganda is a way of life. They were absolutely jam-packed and people even sat outside listening on speakers, or in the pews. The church that I went to on the University of Makerere Campus (one of three) started services at 6am and ran them back-to-back all day until 9pm. I used to go at 7:30am, or sometimes 9am. The sheer mass of the congregation blew me away, so unlike the UK, where attendance is so low that churches are commonly sold off and turned into restaurants, bars or dwellings.
Anyway, although the singing was good in Uganda, there wasn't much of a fellowship, or a community, it was more like a duty, a chore for most people.
Anyways, In Tunis, I've found a church where I feel like I've really grown and embraced my faith. In truth, I have always believed, since I first became a Christian, but I never really found a place that I could practice my faith like I have here. It seemed like the natural time to get baptised into the Church.
So I had to do a bit of prep for the big event. This mainly involved going over to my pastor's house (which I used to call "going to God School") and trying not to swear in front of his young, impressionable children. It seems I passed, because last week, I secured my place in Heaven (!).
Want some pics? Alright then!
Afterwards all my friends came round mine and we had a proper tea party. With sausage (REAL pork - smuggled in!) sandwiches, cheese and pineapples and fruitcake.
There was quite a stir about the fruitcake. I had made it myself, and everyone thought it was great. Maybe I'll develop it into my signature dish - I'm just worried about marginalisation... there are people out there who don't actually like fruitcake. I know, I know... who are these uncouth monsters with such primitive pallets? This is what I used to think too, but then you end up sitting next to one at a wedding and "Hello! More for Me!" happens... and you realise that taste-bud-diversity makes the world go round.
So that's that. I'm off to heaven, have already started tearing my way through the New Testament too, as one of the goals. It's good stuff - there are so many stories that I swear I have never heard before.
Don't swear, Michelle, You're supposed to be a good Christian now.
...Oh yeah... sorry.
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