WEDDING DAY

I had the privilege this weekend of conducting the wedding ceremony of Pam and Stef Myburgh.
It is the first time I have written their names like that. Previously it was Pam de Menezes of The Arrows, or Pam, my semi-adopted daughter, or "Tyde", Christie's nickname for her which has been universally used by her friends for years. Stef is another semi-adopted child, with the nickname "Einie", short for Einstein. Stef was given this name by Christie, who thrives on re naming those close to her. In this case it is very appropriate, because Stef is both extremely clever and inventive, and when he neglects to cut his hair, is as wild in appearance as his esteemed namesake.

The wedding itself was one of the more unusual I have attended or conducted, and had an eclectic collection of guests, affording a people watcher like me intense enjoyment. I will restrain myself, however, in case anyone recognizes who I am lampooning. The day began early for me. My house had been invaded days before by a tornado of bridesmaids. If that is not a collective noun, it should be. A camera crew from Top Billing, a popular lifestyle tv show in South Africa, arrived to set up on the lawn outside my bedroom deck. I had an excellent view of the bride and one bridesmaid doing their best to cope with wind blown hair, massively high heels, and a tiny flower girl replete in black tutu and leopard print accessories, intent on disappearing down the bank. This was just the beginning of a day that featured five bridesmaids and a bridesman (Pam's brother, whom she wanted as one of her attendants), each dressed in whatever they chose to wear. So we had a red polka dot dress, a blue and white fifties number, and....... It would probably be a good idea to look at some photos on Twitter that I posted last night!!! The bridesmaids were driven around the neighborhood AND the freeway, camera crew in tow, to pick fresh bouganvillea to be strewn along the aisle.

Meanwhile, back at the house of chaos, the make-up artist waited patiently to touch up her work. After the bouganvillea-picking episode extra blush, powder, and lip gloss would need to be applied.

At the precise moment I decided to leave for the church, the garage door refused to open or close! I couldn't have chosen a more inconvenient moment. Everyone except the make-up lady and I were out, and the camera crew and bridal party were due back in twenty minutes. Trying very hard to remain sane I drove, er, hastily, to the church, summonsed a reliable friend, thrust my keys at him ("Please go home and fix the garage door; the bridal party are due to leave any minute and the door won't close!"), and breathed deeply as I made my way to the wedding venue. Waiting at the front of the hall was the groom, looking remarkably calm and collected, his five groomsmen and one groomslady ( The Arrows' manager, who had happily accepted the invitation to be one of Stef's attendants, and who spent the time before the bridal party arrived darting from the bride's retinue to the groom's), each resplendent in different outfits.

Anticipation built as the guests took their places, and various people set up Skype and FaceTime on iPads and computers so that the ceremony could be watched in the UK, USA, Australia, Canada, and Bloemfontein (!!!) Any observant guest would have noticed a variety of drums and other instruments near the sound desk. What they didn't know was that the entire bridal party had been co-opted into playing during worship, and as there were four professional drummers, each of them played a drum of some kind. Even the non-musical bridesmaids were given shakers so that they could participate. But I have got ahead of myself. Chatting to the waiting guests I could tell that those among them who were not regular churchgoers were on their best behaviour because they were IN CHURCH. They looked uncomfortable, as if they weren't religious enough, and felt they wouldn't fit in. Until the wedding started!

Jazz music from the thirties, Benny Goodman's "Sing, sing, sing!" heralded the arrival of the bridal party, who danced their way to the front, first the bridesmaids and bridesman in twos, then an assortment of flower girls and boys with baskets of bouganvillea petals, and finally Pam and her father. Roars of applause, and the very unconventional ceremony was underway. The praise was uproarious, the obvious happiness and enjoyment of the couple, and the mood of celebration had to smash every stereotypical "church" atmosphere, and I could feel the non-church goers relax. This was not going to be what they dreaded, thank God! (And yes, there IS a God, and He is every bit as easy to be with as the nicest person you know.) When it was all done and they were pronounced husband and wife, the joy went to a new level. Pam and Stef had wanted to take communion alone, so everyone else left the hall just as a rickshaw arrived. When they appeared again to climb into the rickshaw amidst a positive blizzard of confetti, the party was well on its way.

As I watched and participated in this incredible day which I had helped them plan, I was struck again by how different God is from what we sometimes think. It was a shock to many people that the attendants were dressed differently, that Pam's brother stood with her, and Candyce stood with Stef. I am sure that many people put it down to Pam having an eccentric edge, or the fact that they are musicians, and therefore not like the rest of us. That is so sad, because God is into individuals. He loves the way He created us unique, and I think that enforced uniformity is demonic, not Godly. (Let me hasten to assure you that I am not talking about bridesmaids and groomsmen all dressing the same. That is beautiful and if it is what the bride and groom want, then that is exactly what they should have.) I am talking about a more insidious kind of uniformity, where you come to church and end up looking, dressing, and even praying like everyone else. God loves YOU. He made YOU unique. You are allowed to be yourself.

One of the best things that happened at this wedding was when I was approached by a guest who took my hands in his, struggled to speak, and eventually told me that he knew he needed to come to church. One of the main things that had kept him away was that he felt he would never fit in, but he knew that here he would be loved and accepted as he was. He came to church on Sunday and gave his life to Jesus.

It is not hard to allow people to be themselves. We come as we are and He accepts us, welcomes us, saves us, and then sets about changing us. But He doesn't change us into the latest trend in Christian circles, but into His own image. And that means we become the best version of ourselves it is possible to be. How thankful I am that He put me among a church full of like minded Christians who just love to see Jesus in those who come through our doors.

God bless you and I will see you at the marriage supper of the Lamb, if not before.