But the biggest change has already taken place, and without a single comment: the pearls have gone. OK, so I sat next to a pair of discreet earrings, and there was a double string in evidence towards the end of the proceedings, but gone are the days when the Pearly Queen would have felt under-dressed in a Brompton pew.
For me, this was a little disconcerting. How could I be sure I was in the right place? Sandy Millar being Nicholas Parsons in the thinnest of disguises, I was almost certain I'd wandered into a recording of Sale of the Century by mistake. The Worship Group's Jerry Hall look-alike, just made for draping over a complete set of white plastic garden furniture, did little to allay my fears. Ric Thorpe and his well-worn cardi, on the other hand, were far more reassuring – here was a worship leader, if ever I'd seen one.
And boy did he lead? We sang and we clapped, and we jigged around a bit, and apart from getting lost every time we changed song, it was all really rather good.
And then the Guest Speaker. He'd been introduced earlier, but the mighty stampede of late arrivals had all but drowned it out. All I'd heard was Sandy declaring how much he looked forward to being hugged by him. And that he was an old friend of the entire church. I wondered if I might look forward to being hugged too, it having been a long time.
The Best Hugger in Town, ex-Bishop Richard Hare, came from Up North, looked a little like he might own an outstandingly successful meat pie business, and sounded like a long serving member of the cabinet. However, as he actually had something to say, and was more than competent at saying it, this last illusion was shattered in a matter of seconds.
As well as learning that boats are for rocking, and that Pelagius was the first D-I-Y man and came from Yorkshire, we learnt that there is no sin so small that it doesn't bother God, and none so dreadful that he hasn't already forgiven something worse. But all without a hug in sight.
This was followed by the most low-key 'altar call' in history. The ex-Bishop was going to pray 'The Prayer', but no one was to make any visible response. Those who wanted to join in could do so in their heads, but there was to be no raising of hands, streaming forward, counting of heads, or anything. If you absolutely had to do something, you could press your feet hard on the floor to give God a sign, but no one, repeat no one, was to say 'Amen', because that would give the game away.
A couple more songs with Ric (cardi off), and Sandy was back. Ministry (healing, pictures, words, etc.) was scheduled, and suddenly a tricky situation loomed. The ex-Bishop had said don't move, the vicar was saying do. Who were you supposed to disobey? Bodies were required at the front of the church, but no one seemed able to move. Was this a problem of etiquette, or had feet, just been pressed too hard on the floor, giving everyone cramp?
When I left, I realised I'd been at HTB nearly two hours without looking at my watch – which is saying something for me and for church. Even more amazing, I'd actually enjoyed myself: a bit of a bop, a bit of a laugh and only a very manageable amount of worry re. the Ministry. All it needed was a bit more content to the sermon, and you'd be pretty close to my idea of a Good Service.
This piece was first published in the magazine Leading Light.
Easter with Attitude – Simon Jenkins celebrates Easter, Russian Orthodox style.
At the Coca Cola Cross – Tom Davies rejoices in Greenbelt.
Southern Comfort – Rick Dietrich is wowed by First Baptist, Atlanta.
Preaching Without Oxygen – Simon Jenkins marvels at the Wee Frees of Inverness.
For other Service with a Smile reports, please click on your choice of edifying reading…
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