I hope questionable-doctrine-lady doesn't read my blog
There were a few tense moments during testimony meeting yesterday. It's really a liberal policy, if you think about it. Once a month set aside a block of time in your worship service during which anybody can and does stand up and say anything at all. Supposedly the bishop or other presider has the responsibility to monitor and intervene and clarify, if things get out of hand, but have you ever seen that happen? I haven't.
Actually, I was secretly hoping it would happen yesterday. Although I was sending prayers heavenward like the next guy that such-and-such wouldn't go on and on for 25 minutes, like she could very well do, and so-and-so-the-inactive-dude-wearing-t-shirt-and-jeans-and-tennis-shoes (although last week it was a three-piece suit, so you never know with him)-and-who-waxes-bizarrely-philosophical-at-every-opportunity wouldn't pontificate ludicrous doctrine, or swear from the pulpit--sometimes there's nothing better than a really bad run-on sentence--I was also furtively wishing to see the bishop stand up and ask a person to sit down mid-testimony or correct someone on an issue. But, although I could tell the bishop was sweating it while they were speaking, such-and-such and so-and-so both sat down without any major testimony infractions. It wasn't a very Christ-centered meeting. Our friend, the former stake president who is pretty darn near perfect the way I see it, stood up at one point and tried to steer the meeting back to Christ. It was a beautiful and simple testimony and it almost worked to get the meeting back on track. Until...
Questionable-doctrine-lady who tells inappropriate and really winded stories in her testimonies stood up right at the end. Read: squirming, sweating everybody in the congregation. Is this really what we want to leave as a last impression for the visiting non-members in the audience? Is there time for one more testimony at the end just so she won't be the last? But, no. She is taking way too much time and we are already overdue for Sunday School to start. We may as well sit back and learn as much as we can about glam-rock cokeheads.
For that is what she spoke about. And spoke about. And spoke about. Apparently, her testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ has to do with the bassist of a metal band called the New York Dolls who had a drug-induced injury (specifically, falling out of a window while beating his wife) and, while recovering in the hospital, converted to Mormonism. This man changed his ways (I'm all about the Atonement, don't get me wrong) and got called to serve in the Family History Library. When his band got together to do a reunion show, he dressed up like Joseph Smith to show the world he was a changed person. I don't know if the world got that message, or not. What I do know is there were way too many details about this fellow and the documentary q-d-lady saw about his life. Too. Many. Details.
My husband was out in the hallway (pretending our son was being noisy, but really preparing a lesson). He heard the testimony about the rocker, but missed the squirming-ness and general discomfort that it provoked. The first thing he mentioned as we drove home after church: "Cool. I want to go see that movie she was talking about."
Actually, I was secretly hoping it would happen yesterday. Although I was sending prayers heavenward like the next guy that such-and-such wouldn't go on and on for 25 minutes, like she could very well do, and so-and-so-the-inactive-dude-wearing-t-shirt-and-jeans-and-tennis-shoes (although last week it was a three-piece suit, so you never know with him)-and-who-waxes-bizarrely-philosophical-at-every-opportunity wouldn't pontificate ludicrous doctrine, or swear from the pulpit--sometimes there's nothing better than a really bad run-on sentence--I was also furtively wishing to see the bishop stand up and ask a person to sit down mid-testimony or correct someone on an issue. But, although I could tell the bishop was sweating it while they were speaking, such-and-such and so-and-so both sat down without any major testimony infractions. It wasn't a very Christ-centered meeting. Our friend, the former stake president who is pretty darn near perfect the way I see it, stood up at one point and tried to steer the meeting back to Christ. It was a beautiful and simple testimony and it almost worked to get the meeting back on track. Until...
Questionable-doctrine-lady who tells inappropriate and really winded stories in her testimonies stood up right at the end. Read: squirming, sweating everybody in the congregation. Is this really what we want to leave as a last impression for the visiting non-members in the audience? Is there time for one more testimony at the end just so she won't be the last? But, no. She is taking way too much time and we are already overdue for Sunday School to start. We may as well sit back and learn as much as we can about glam-rock cokeheads.
For that is what she spoke about. And spoke about. And spoke about. Apparently, her testimony of the Gospel of Jesus Christ has to do with the bassist of a metal band called the New York Dolls who had a drug-induced injury (specifically, falling out of a window while beating his wife) and, while recovering in the hospital, converted to Mormonism. This man changed his ways (I'm all about the Atonement, don't get me wrong) and got called to serve in the Family History Library. When his band got together to do a reunion show, he dressed up like Joseph Smith to show the world he was a changed person. I don't know if the world got that message, or not. What I do know is there were way too many details about this fellow and the documentary q-d-lady saw about his life. Too. Many. Details.
My husband was out in the hallway (pretending our son was being noisy, but really preparing a lesson). He heard the testimony about the rocker, but missed the squirming-ness and general discomfort that it provoked. The first thing he mentioned as we drove home after church: "Cool. I want to go see that movie she was talking about."
Comments
In Glendale Stake there was an incident where a guy was giving a "testimony", describing how gay men hit on him in clubs and similar topics. Two members of the bishopric escorted him to the foyer and he was yelling as they did so. Wasn't there, but this is well-documented fact.
But...still worth seeing.
I'm kind of sad that my ward is so wonderful, normal and appropriate. I miss the crazy old days of our Provo family ward (on the "wrong side of the tracks"). There were a few good stories there.
I live in a really tame, doctrinally sound ward now. Not much exciting on first Sundays. Except a year ago we had this lady--born a Trinidad Baptist--get up and tell her pulpit-pounding conversion story. Talk about rockin...only appropriate and amazing! After she was done, all the people after her were so white and boring. People still talk about her and nobody knows who she was. Maybe a wife of one of the three Nephites? Heh. Joking.
As a kid I always enjoyed the travel logs and stories from my wrong-side-of-the-tracks Provo ward. I don't know that I really knew what 1st Sunday was about back then, but it sure was entertaining.
I agree. If testimonies make an impression on your visitors, your bishop or other presiding authority figure should have tackled her down, hand over mouth, and gestured a more reverent member to come and reset the mood. Your rendition of her testimony also urged me to rent "that movie."
Fun blog!
A crazy (as in "burned her house down because she hated her landlord") gave her "testimony" in my ward in Nebraska about how we should all give her $5,000 and when the Bishop asked told her this was her time to share her testimony of Christ she spiked the microphone down and stormed out.