The Religion Of Rob

I tried a new church this weekend.  Yeah, don’t everybody spring up from the “Amen!” board all at once.  It was by no means a halleluiah moment.  I mean I liked the church, it was fine, but I preferred my last one.

 

Why is that?  I mean this one’s just a little further away, but it’s still the same faith and the service is pretty similar.  The pastor seemed like a really nice guy, even for a Steelers fan.  I don’t think they can excommunicate you for that.  I hope not.  I like the Dolphins.

 

Yeah, I can hear the thunder roll already.

 

It did make me wonder though, about faith and religion.  Why do I prefer one church over another, when they’re essentially the same? I looked inside for an answer, and found nothing, just a hollow Easter bunny choco-molded mid shrug.  There was something else wrapped in it’s melty goodness though. Another concept to consider. I considered the religion of Rob.

 

Can I get an Amen?

 

Yeah the religion of Rob; I’ve got a small flock of stiff-necked followers.  It might be bigger if I could turn rivers to blood. I mean, I can, but that would require that I say some mean things to MyEx; the religion of Rob isn’t looking for a martyr—at least not a dead one.  It would be cool if I could get her to rain sulfur though.  I might have to work on that. 

 

Anyway the faith of Rob is small.  I’d love to say that it’s a grand movement, but it’s not, in fact I’m losing followers.  Yup, I see it every day.  It starts with the small stuff. 

 

One day I spoke to one congregant saying, “Lo!  Listen to this song.  Thou shalt like it.”

They replied with a deafening yawn.

 

Weeks later the same person scurried forth and knelt, “Lord Rob…”  Ok, look it’s my blog; they’ll address me however I write that they address me.  Anyway, “...I have brought you this gift of music.  You will like it.”

 

I listened.  It was the same song I’d recommended weeks earlier.

 

Sigh, ye of little faith…

 

I suggested to another parishioner that they try green eggs and ham.  They wrinkled their nose, and not in a cute bunny kind of way. A few days later, that person came back to me and said, “Sam I Am just fed me the tastiest treat!”

 

Yeah, I loose more people to that Sam I Am.  I just can’t compete with his rhyme, meter, or persistence.

 

You would like me on a bus, you would like me with my cousin Gus…

 

It’s not Sam’s fault.  He just offers a better show and he welcomes  “young readers” with his cat in the hat cadence. I don’t have two things, a dog or a pony for my show; it’s just me and I’m only a forest butt sneech with a jubilee of ideas dancing in my head.

 

We all have our followers: people who commune ideas.  And yeah, we have faiths of our own. Prophets guide us with their wisdom.  In marriage, we’re locked together by a mutual faith.

 

That’s why it hurts when someone loses faith in you.  Me, I’d like to believe that they’ve lost their way; that’s an easier sacrifice for my ego altar. Then again, maybe they never found it.  Maybe I was just a bright star in the sky to enlightenment.  It’s great being a star, but it’s only there to point the way to a true destination. There’s still a stable full of other characters before you get to the real nativity scene.

 

“Can I be a wise man?”

“No, you’re a sheep.”

“awww, dang, I always have to be a sheep.”

“That’s cuz you always follow.”

 

 Me, I’m not a sheep.  I’m a Mark Wahlberg in Boogie Nights. “I’m a bright and shining star…” just not nearly as endowed.  Yeah, you’re gonna have to be a really close follower if you’re following that part of me. 

 

Objects in mirror are larger than they appear.

“Oh thank God!”

 

Unfortunately, that’s not the part of me that’s the star.  I’m sorry, girls.  Love me for my mind.

 

And that may be why my congregation is so small. It’s ok.  I like it this way. The religion of Rob is a simple thing. It’s like a highway rest stop. It’s people who come, stretch their legs, and maybe commune, then take away all the paper towels and toilet mints they can.

 

I’m a safe harbor on a long journey. Few people stay, but those that do are no longer drawn by the lures of sirens.   I like that, because Rob is not a faith of adventurers. Those who are looking for Spido the Smite Lord are looking at the wrong spot.

 

Still, that doesn’t take away the hurt when they go.  I can’t be everything to everyone, but I can try to be something for a few.  Maybe I can offer them manna for the trip, and should they stop this way again, maybe they’ll remember me.

 

I think it’s the same way when changing churches.  Sometimes you leave for a need, sometimes you leave for a want, but if the place where you’ve been was good, it will always affect the place where you go, and may even lead you back.

 

So sayeth the Rob.