My religious journey (6)
So there I was, aged 21, working as a low level civil servant, with no plans for the future.
But I had learned to drink and to smoke. And I had left one Plymouth Brethren Assembly for another. Now I was “in fellowship” at Abingdon Road Gospel Hall. It was perceived to be slightly more progressive, but the perception and the reality were far apart.
After a year I applied for a job at the Westminster Bank. They’d turned me down when I had returned after the Eric Hutchins debacle, but “if at first you don’t succeed….”
A Mr. Hooper interviewed me. His opening words were not promising “Well Mr. Povey”, he said, “you are very persistent”. But I knew the game and pledged my life long fealty to the great and glorious Westminster Bank. “Never again”, I declared, “would I leave them”.
(Luckily for me the Westminster Bank merged with the National Provincial Bank a few years later, so my vow was null and void. I never left the Westminster Bank, but later I did leave the new “National Westminster Bank”!)
I was assigned to Knowle, Bristol branch as a cashier (teller) , and worked for an enlightened and fair Manager, Peter Long. It was retail banking at its best. I enjoyed the interaction with customers - Mrs. Fitzgerald who owned an unprofitable sweet shop, her son-in-law John who was a barber, (a married man who “came on to me” once when he was cutting my hair); and the owners of the old Gaiety Cinema in Knowle - long since gone. I joined the branch five-a-side soccer team, not cos I could play soccer, but because one of the team members, Desmond, was very attractive. I chose to continue with “Michael” rather than “John” as there were already two “Johns” in the office - and because I was liking my second name.
The Bank advanced me a loan and I purchased my first car, a little Ford Estate Car. For about a year I would first drive my sister Maureen to her job at the Metal Agencies Company (M.A.C.) in Ashton, and then wend my way through south Bristol to Knowle.
And I was “rehabilitated” as a member of the Plymouth Brethren, and became a “leading young brother” at the Gospel Hall. Here I made good friends with Phil and Hilary; Colin and Lorraine, and another Phil with his wife Bennie. We’d gather for “fellowship” at Colin and Lorraine’s home in Clay Bottom every Sunday; drink tea or coffee, tell dirty jokes and become quite boisterous.
But Mr. Holy Povey insisted on ending every evening with a scripture reading and prayer (to cancel out the dirty jokes?), and the other six soon got to call him “the Pastor”.
But in the midst of a job which I enjoyed, the good friends I’ve mentioned, and my super religiosity, the “big question” would not go away. “Why did I lust for men?”
I hooked up with the Gospel Quartette again for a few gigs. One took us to the south Devonshire coast for a youth conference. Another “pinch-hitter” in the Quartette for that weekend was a gorgeous guy named Brian. We roomed together.
But this conference was different. The Charismatic Movement (speaking in tongues, healing, prophecies etc) was bringing Pentecostal worship to main line Churches. And this conference was Charismatic indeed. We were urged to another act of surrender to Christ in which we would be baptised in the Holy Spirit - evidenced by speaking in tongues.
I resisted. But on the last night Brian and I knelt to pray in our room. It was a heady time. And he and I, spontaneously, and without the “laying on of hands” began to speak in tongues.
We wept and laughed and wondered. We basked in this time of spiritual intimacy. And I began to recognise the powerful link between spiritual and physical intimacy.
Fear or wisdom kept me back, and we went to our separate beds. But the gift of tongues did not take away my longings.
Back in Bristol the Peeb elders were mad at me. They called me to account in a formal meeting. Their theology dictated that I could not possibly be speaking in tongues since those “gifts of the Spirit” had been “withdrawn by God when the canon of Scripture was completed” .
But I knew that “something” had happened. I was praying with strange sounding words which I did not understand, but which allowed me to feel close to God.
So my experience and Peeb theology did not mesh at two levels. I was gay, which was to them an abomination. I spoke in tongues, which to them was spurious and false.
I had to quit religion or find a new Church. I was on the road to Canterbury in more ways than one.
….. To be continued……..
But I had learned to drink and to smoke. And I had left one Plymouth Brethren Assembly for another. Now I was “in fellowship” at Abingdon Road Gospel Hall. It was perceived to be slightly more progressive, but the perception and the reality were far apart.
After a year I applied for a job at the Westminster Bank. They’d turned me down when I had returned after the Eric Hutchins debacle, but “if at first you don’t succeed….”
A Mr. Hooper interviewed me. His opening words were not promising “Well Mr. Povey”, he said, “you are very persistent”. But I knew the game and pledged my life long fealty to the great and glorious Westminster Bank. “Never again”, I declared, “would I leave them”.
(Luckily for me the Westminster Bank merged with the National Provincial Bank a few years later, so my vow was null and void. I never left the Westminster Bank, but later I did leave the new “National Westminster Bank”!)
I was assigned to Knowle, Bristol branch as a cashier (teller) , and worked for an enlightened and fair Manager, Peter Long. It was retail banking at its best. I enjoyed the interaction with customers - Mrs. Fitzgerald who owned an unprofitable sweet shop, her son-in-law John who was a barber, (a married man who “came on to me” once when he was cutting my hair); and the owners of the old Gaiety Cinema in Knowle - long since gone. I joined the branch five-a-side soccer team, not cos I could play soccer, but because one of the team members, Desmond, was very attractive. I chose to continue with “Michael” rather than “John” as there were already two “Johns” in the office - and because I was liking my second name.
The Bank advanced me a loan and I purchased my first car, a little Ford Estate Car. For about a year I would first drive my sister Maureen to her job at the Metal Agencies Company (M.A.C.) in Ashton, and then wend my way through south Bristol to Knowle.
And I was “rehabilitated” as a member of the Plymouth Brethren, and became a “leading young brother” at the Gospel Hall. Here I made good friends with Phil and Hilary; Colin and Lorraine, and another Phil with his wife Bennie. We’d gather for “fellowship” at Colin and Lorraine’s home in Clay Bottom every Sunday; drink tea or coffee, tell dirty jokes and become quite boisterous.
But Mr. Holy Povey insisted on ending every evening with a scripture reading and prayer (to cancel out the dirty jokes?), and the other six soon got to call him “the Pastor”.
But in the midst of a job which I enjoyed, the good friends I’ve mentioned, and my super religiosity, the “big question” would not go away. “Why did I lust for men?”
I hooked up with the Gospel Quartette again for a few gigs. One took us to the south Devonshire coast for a youth conference. Another “pinch-hitter” in the Quartette for that weekend was a gorgeous guy named Brian. We roomed together.
But this conference was different. The Charismatic Movement (speaking in tongues, healing, prophecies etc) was bringing Pentecostal worship to main line Churches. And this conference was Charismatic indeed. We were urged to another act of surrender to Christ in which we would be baptised in the Holy Spirit - evidenced by speaking in tongues.
I resisted. But on the last night Brian and I knelt to pray in our room. It was a heady time. And he and I, spontaneously, and without the “laying on of hands” began to speak in tongues.
We wept and laughed and wondered. We basked in this time of spiritual intimacy. And I began to recognise the powerful link between spiritual and physical intimacy.
Fear or wisdom kept me back, and we went to our separate beds. But the gift of tongues did not take away my longings.
Back in Bristol the Peeb elders were mad at me. They called me to account in a formal meeting. Their theology dictated that I could not possibly be speaking in tongues since those “gifts of the Spirit” had been “withdrawn by God when the canon of Scripture was completed” .
But I knew that “something” had happened. I was praying with strange sounding words which I did not understand, but which allowed me to feel close to God.
So my experience and Peeb theology did not mesh at two levels. I was gay, which was to them an abomination. I spoke in tongues, which to them was spurious and false.
I had to quit religion or find a new Church. I was on the road to Canterbury in more ways than one.
….. To be continued……..
