The other day I was walking aimlessly around the church building, and I found myself wandering down a corridor I had never been down before. I’m not usually the adventurous type, but I thought I’d see where it ended up. At the end of the corridor was a big, thick, old wooden door. As I said, I’m not the adventurous type, but I took a look anyway.
The door opened into a large room, and it was absolutely full of people. There were all kinds in there, old and young, men and women. Anyone that you could imagine was there, and they were all busy with something. There was a group of people painting the walls, and a group of people setting out chairs, and a group of people cleaning the carpets, and all sorts of things going on.
I thought they must be preparing for some type of church service or something. Everyone was working so hard, and the room looked amazing. I mean, it’s hard to get the feel of a room right sometimes, but these people had nailed it. The way that everything was set out, the colours of the walls and carpet, the clean windows, the smell. I don’t know exactly what it was, but it was without a doubt, hands-down, the best room I had ever seen anywhere in any church ever.
I stood in the doorway watching them work for a while. One of the painters ended up near me, meticulously applying some magnolia to the wall beside to the door.
“What time does it start?” I said.
“What?” he said without looking at me. He was giving all of his concentration to the painting.
“The service, or whatever it is you have here. What time does it start?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“It must be soon though? The way everyone’s working so hard.”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Well, how long have you been doing this?” I said.
He stopped painting long enough to shrug. “A while. Days. Months. Maybe longer.”
“Months?” I looked around the room. All these people working so hard. For months? “But it shouldn’t take months to get a room ready, should it?”
“The wall could always do with another coat,” he said. “You know how it is. You’ve just finished and then you notice a patch that needs touching up. A fingerprint or smear that needs covering. It’s the same with the carpet. And you’d be surprised at how much work has to go into getting the chairs just right.”
“But why?” I said.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“Why are you doing this?”
He finally turned his attention to me. “Because the room has to be ready. We have to work hard to get the room ready. It’s the way to please God.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yeah,” the man said. “God wants us to work hard. It pleases Him. Then we get to go and be with Him forever.”
“Huh,” I said. “I didn’t know that.”
“That’s how it is. Would you like to join us? The guys in the kitchen could always do with one more. There’s just so much washing up.”
“No,you’re alright,” I said. I looked at the watch I wasn’t wearing. “I think I’ll be going now.”
“It’s your soul,” said the man. He went back to his painting.
I backed out of the room and carefully shut the door. As I turned to leave, I saw the sign above the door. It was quite small. I hadn’t noticed it before. It read ‘Welcome to Hell’.
Thanks James. Sweet and deadly as usual with the twist: memorable