TRUTH . . . IS INCLUSIVE
(continued)

The warmth of that encounter lasted a very long time and returns whenever I recall the flight. I realise more than ever that I do not have to deny my own experience of God to grant that someone else also has a valid history. Three non-judgemental souls had shared the happy hours, served each other and talked of God and his world. That would have been impossible in my former hard-line days when I belonged to an exclusive club and thought mine the only true story, my name for the Almighty the only acceptable name. I am sure that He (do pardon me ladies!) has no problem. My offspring call me the names of quirky TV personalities like Victor Meldrew and Captain Mainwaring, but what does that matter if they love me? I am not worried because I know who I am, and I'm quite sure God has no identity crisis.

Jesus Christ, the one who made all my house lights come on, taught me how to draw a big circle and be inclusive. I believe he would have been horrified if I had failed to discern the true spirit of the Indian lady and quibbled with her about correct words, which are surely but clumsy symbols of inner truth.

© Maurice Smith 2004

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