Falling for the chicken sandwich trap

[Warning - content will offend the offendable]

Following on from a couple of days in Pie Town where eating too much pie was the least of our indiscretions, the timing of our next cultural experience could not have been better. And in hindsight, given we were in the Southern US, this experience should have come as no surprise.

An hour or so away from our planned campsite for the night, we found ourselves in need of a top up of water to see us through the night and to the next water certainty, some fifty miles away. And after passing several windmills, all broken down, it was time to stop in at a ranch house. Passing by one uninviting residence, the next one looked just the ticket. Dropping in, I got the now familiar smiling welcome - and "yes you are most welcome to fill up your water, it tastes a little like gypsum or maybe sulphur but otherwise it it fine."

Within moments a young lady is at the door offering us cantaloupe, and yes that rock melon is delicious. With the five of us now swarming, the too-good-to-refuse offer to come in for a chicken sandwich is made - "there is plenty to go around" - how could we refuse such a generous offer? So while the dinner is being prepared, we sit outside talking to the helpful Granddad about our route, getting his local tips on what we can expect to find. A few grand children pop there head out the door every now and again, and all seems well in the world. Little do we know but the trap has been set, and the bait has proved to be more than palatable.

With the call for dinner made, we head in, to be greeted by three generations - with some of the family visiting it was quite the lively little residence. With the five of us getting a seat at the table along with the granddad and one of his son-in-laws, while the grandmother, mothers, and children sat away by themselves in the corner, it was quickly becoming clear we had made quite the far step to the right. The Granddad said Grace, and we tucked into our quite delicious chicken sandwiches over very brief small-talk about the ranching and such.

"So, are you church-going folk?" Bang, straight out with it. Trystan danced around the question while the rest of us muttered and mumbled nothing much.

And what follows is a very rough transcript which gives the gist of our two hour conversation with the Pastor of the local church:

"Well, then do you know you are going to heaven?"
"Um, well, no-one can know that"
"But I know I am going to heaven"
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because it is in the Bible, which is God's word, and if you accept Jesus into your hearts all your sins will be forgiven and you will know that you will go to heaven too. Let me quote from John, Chapter..." Or something to that effect.
"But I do good things in my life, I try to be good to people, is that not enough?"
"No, we are all sinners, and not letting Jesus into your heart is the greatest sin of all. If you will not let Jesus into your hearts you will go straight to hell".
"What if I murder someone and then let Jesus into my heart?"
"Jesus will forgive you and you will got to Heaven"
"Great, but if I don't let Jesus into my heart, what will Hell be like?"
"It is in the centre of the earth - you would have read about how hot it is down there in your science books - it is not a very nice place"
"So how do we avoid going to hell?"
"By letting the Lord into your heart and asking for forgiveness of your sins. You don't want to go to hell do you?"
Ryan: "I am not afraid."

And so the conversation with this, the most fundamentalist of fundamentalist Christians, continued. We poked and prodded this gentleman for what we saw as holes in his argument but it was no good. His logic was too sound.
"How do you know the Bible is God's word, how do you know it is the truth?"
"Because the Bible says it is Gods word and therefore it is the truth" This guy was bread and butter for both the Richard Dawkins and John Cornwell types.
"But what about all the other religions, why can they not be the truth?"
"Because only the Bible professes to be God's word."
"What if you were born in the middle of Africa or Asia, or any other non-Christian part of the world - would you go to Hell without even knowing about the possibility of being allowed into Heaven?"
"I truly believe that if want to let Jesus into your heart then Jesus will find you"
"But where is the evidence that the bible is the sole truth? We are all educated, we have studied science and such, and there is a quite rigorous process to follow when it comes to proving something as fact. And that is simply not possible to do with the Bible"
"Have you actually read the bible?"
"Well, no"
"Then how can you say it is not God's word"
"Well, fair point, I guess we should at least read the bible before we can dismiss it as not being an entirely factual account. "

Perhaps he had us there, but after discussions about what heaven is like "You know about the Hubble telescope, Heaven is beyond where it can see", the importance of being baptized "Nowhere in the bible does it say you need to be baptized", and many, many references to verse from the bible (with the daughter by his side to facilitate with appropriate passages) it was time for the big question before he would let us go:

"So, will let Jesus into your hearts, will you let Him save you?"
"Yes, yes of course, now can we have a second helping of icecream cake?" No, I made that up, but that is perhaps what we should have said. We said no, we could not make such a decision on the spot, we would need time to mull this one over. But could he just be satisfied that he will have prompted much discussion amongst the group? Apparently not, but somehow we declined to be saved, and graciously declined the offer of a camp on the front lawn and breakfast in the morning.

Back on our bikes, and in the now dark, we made it maybe two miles down the road, just far enough to be out of sight before making camp for the night. He sure did prompt no shortage of discussion, but sadly for our Pastor he had no converts on this occasion. However, with Ben in charge of the Bible we were kindly given, who knows. I have already seen Ben reading the good book in many a spare moment and I sense a turning point is coming...

Yes, we fell right into his trap, which he openly admitted. If I send just one addenda to the Adventure Cycling Association for the Great Divide Route, it will be this one: "Mile 48.2 [or wherever it was]: Ranch house on left. Chicken sandwiches for all. No strings attached. Enjoy."

Or maybe not.