Twitter Thread

Many years ago, when I was in my early 20s and still living in Halifax, I went to visit Charlottetown. It was November, the off season, and it was quite stormy. As the Maritime provinces are.

My partner and I were staying at this bed and breakfast. It was nice. Maritime-themed.

Anyway, we’d been out all day on a Saturday and decided to take a nap. But I wanted to get up at a certain time because I’d heard the evensong service at this Anglican cathedral was beautiful
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Actually, the service wasn’t in the cathedral proper, but in the adjoining chapel. There was something special about the paintings in the chapel, though I can’t remember what it was.

We overslept. Rushed to make it to the evensong service. It was November and the weather was bad – a real storm brewing out there. If you’ve ever lived in the maritimes, you know. Anyway. We get there and hide in the back, but we’re the only ones there.

Otherwise, it’s just the priest alone. And he doesn’t see us. Doesn’t know anyone is there. But he’s doing the whole service as if there’s a crowd watching him. At any point he could have quit or gone home. No one would’ve known. But he did the whole service alone.

I’ve often thought since then about that moment. Faith is doing the thing – whatever the thing is – as if someone is watching. Even if you could go home and leave everyone none the wiser. Even if it’s storming out. Even if it feels like there’s no point.

I still remember the look of shock on that priest’s face when he realized we were there. He thought he was alone with his God. But he continued the service and afterwards took us around to see the paintings in the chapel, which were the main tourist attraction.

Ever since then I have thought that faith means serving God in whatever way you believe, even when no one is there to witness the service. Maybe especially when no one is there. Faith is conducting a service on a cold, stormy November night in a dark chapel when no one can see.