You know when you meet one of those people who quite obviously has a strong sense of where to put their confidence in this life. Not in themselves (though, this is not to suggest that they shy away from what God calls them to do), but in the Three-in-One God, in His power,…in other words, His all-loving opinion.

I’ll be the first to admit I can get overly concerned what others think of me. It’s one of those features of being human and depending on the context, it can mean a misplaced sense of excessive pride or insecurity, or just generally helpful sensitivity towards social norms that avoid self-humiliation on a daily basis.

Anyway, where am I going with all this, you ask. Somewhere, I promise.

The other week (when I should have posted this blog but was prevented from doing so due to power cuts and lack of internet access…*cough* shouldn’t leave it to the last minute…*cough*)…I had the grand pleasure of tagging along to dinner at a local London pub. The reason? It was the ‘reunion’ of a brilliant little party of pilgrims who had spent a few weeks in the Holy Land together the previous year. Included in this party were two dear friends of mine with whom I was staying, a newly married couple with a baby about to burst out of mother, two stunning single lay women, an as-Irish-bloke-as-they-come RE teacher and Papa Chris in his full clericals (rep-re-sent…aow).

It was 8.30pm before Papa Chris (no joke, this is his nickname) finally flew in late and plopped himself at the table. All conversation seemed to stop as he explained with great animation the reason for his lateness…he’d specially arranged for someone to celebrate the evening Mass so he could get away to this date with the pub and old friends. However, the tabernacle key got lost between Masses in the morning – turns out it fell down behind the cupboards in the sacristy – and he’d been driving all over town to check where it might have gotten to.

From the get go it was quite clear that Papa Chris is one of these types not particularly bothered by the opinions of others, but deeply concerned about the opinion of God. Consequently, he had little shame when it came to grace time.

Have you ever been out with friends in a restaurant where the meal arrives and it’s a bit like “Ah, do we grace?” without wanting to make too much of a spectacle. Well, Papa Chris’s philosophy seemed quite the opposite.

After a solemn Sign of the Cross, he proceeded to start using the table as percussion-backing to the familiar tune ‘We will rock you’. If you’ve ever been at a summer youth camp (I’m thinking Summer Connection in the Auckland old-days), you probably know this grace inside out.

With a slight disbelief and an uncontrollable giggle rising dangerously fast from the pit of my stomach (is that possible?), I joined in with the rest of the group, quickly forgetting my shame and reliving my teenage days on Motutapu Island. “We will…we will…thank you…”

And we did…we thanked and praised Him, with our laughter, our noise somewhat like singing, our uplifting and faith filled conversations and companionship. In a funny sort of way, we witnessed to the fact that, for us, it was His opinion that we cared most about. And no one even stopped us to say it was illegal – a miracle in itself! Bottoms up to Our Lord and Saviour.