Good Christians are in Short Supply in Idaho

I had a guy at mass one Sunday tell me that he had heard me on the radio.  I usually went to church, arrived early, and tried to meditate for a good half hour before the procession.  I generally sat in a middle row, near a wall, and kept to myself.  It’s not like I carried around a sign that said, “Meet KLIX’s Bill Colley!”  I do a job and I do it the way my employer expected I would when I was hired.  I give strong opinions.  That’s how talk radio is supposed to work.  For twenty hours a week, I speak my mind.  Otherwise, I lead a quiet life, don’t care or socialize, and go to bed before 6:00 p.m.

So, I was surprised when this fellow introduced himself.  “I’m a legend in my mind, too!” he exclaimed.  Where did that come from?  I can tell you there are a lot of men who go to church to please their wives, but those men aren’t very good Christians.

When the show I host doubled in length, my alarm clock started ringing at 2:00 a.m.  It cut down on late-night activities.  The only regular meeting I attended was the Knights of Columbus.  One week I was on vacation and the Grand Knight welcomed me to a meeting.  When I commented I didn’t need to get to bed early, some jackass in the room sarcastically said he was sympathetic.  The Grand Knight explained my work hours and the mouthy fellow spouted that he didn’t know.  He didn’t apologize.  The guy with the big mouth was an usher on Sunday mornings.  Never a warm and friendly guy.

One friend at church told me that one Sunday when mass ended, another man pulled him aside and pointed at me.  “I can’t believe he’s one of us,” he told my friend.  Let me see, I’m pro-life.  Check!  I believe marriage is a bond between a man and a woman.  Check!  I believe in the personal presence of God at communion.  Check!

I stopped going to mass as COVID started.  I came down with a respiratory infection that nearly killed me and I probably caught it at church.  The only place I’m ever really in a crowd.  And since I wasn’t welcome…

At one point, I did a test drive on a protestant church.

A man came up to me and during conversation explained his father had spent five years in a federal prison.  Then the professed Christian poked me in the tummy and called me fat.  A few thoughts to unpack.  My size and health issues are to some degree genetic.  We don’t get to choose our genes.  We do choose to be a jerk.  By the way, my daddy put people like his daddy in jail.  I suppose some of these people have some self-concept issues or dead-end jobs and it makes them feel superior to call me fat or imply I have a big ego.  As I understand it, they’re going to hell.

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