Coming Around Again

You may recall Mad Trevor's ex-friend Mad Terry, who I'd thought I'd seen the back of after he was ejected from the apartment he rented in the village. He turned up again at Christmas, very unexpectedly bringing with him a fiancée from Lithuania who turns out to have been his mother's carer before that unfortunate lady's death. She doesn't speak much English. They want to get married 'as soon as possible', which won't be very soon given the legal implications and the amount it'll cost.

Mad Terry has been resettled not far away by the Council in a shared house, and wants me to come and bless it. I am definitely not going on my own after my experience last time and the palpable atmosphere of disturbance and discomfort that infested the apartment here.

He called at 7.15 this morning. 'I've been under spiritual attack,' he said. It turned out that he'd been making lots of noise in the new room in the middle of the night and one of the other residents had banged on the wall, then left a note on the communal noticeboard asking everyone in the house to keep the noise down after 10pm. This didn't seem unreasonable to me, albeit a bit passive-aggressive. Anyway, I agreed to see him after the first Ash Wednesday mass this morning to talk through the matter.

Talking through it took over an hour, endlessly trying to keep the conversation to the point, ploughing through references to spiritual warfare, the welfare system, David Cameron, lawyers and landlords, trying to work out exactly what was happening. Terry is now living round the corner from a large evangelical church. 'I went there for a blessing, and boy, are they in danger. They're all in the houses opposite, waiting.' It turned out, from the context, that 'they' are Muslims who are itching to take the place over.

I am angry with myself for giving the man so much time, and only write this to get it off my chest. I tell people God can speak through unlikely individuals, that you have to be alive to the possibility of the Holy Spirit working through challenging people and circumstances. Even Mad Trevor just occasionally comes up with something that makes me think. So I keep an open mind: perhaps too open.

This was the exchange that made me give up:

Terry: That time you refused to hug me after the service, I was really offended. But it's all right, brother, I've forgiven you. But you were wrong. Didn't Jesus hug Peter? That was the first time a man had ever hugged another man.
Me: Where does it say Jesus hugged Peter?
Terry: Well, he forgave him.
Me: Yes he did, but where does it say he hugged him?
Terry: (after a silence) There's more to it than the words.

And a few minutes later:

Terry: That time you asked who in the church had read the Bible, and I was the only one who put my hand up. I probably know more about it than you do.

And then, after he handed me a note to decipher:

Me: This just says 'Colin Brown' and has a phone number.
Terry: Ah yes, can you sign that, I need your signature.
Me: Why?
Terry: So when we go on tour in Europe we can send you money to give to the church.
Me: How will having my signature let you send me money?
Terry: Well, it's so that the people we deal with will trust you and you can sign for the money when we send it.
Me: You aren't allowed just to send bundles of money between countries. I'm not signing that. If you're abroad and anyone official needs my signature they can get in touch with me.
Terry (after a moment): Good, you passed the test. Sorry I had to test you like that.

I have proceeded on the basis that, in amidst the garbage of mental illness, God might have something to say to me.

He doesn't.