As many of you know, I am a lover of books and bookstores and so, when my classmate took me into Al Manara bookstore I was quite excited! This is until I realized I had actually walked into a Evangelical Christian ministry. My visit started out peachy, with welcome coconut balls and hot cocoa and hugs exchanged between my classmate and the woman that I owned the supposed bookshop, but the happy feeling quickly shifted. Upon sitting down (my lovely classmate wanted to play the cross-embedded guitar) the revelation occurred that I have not yet been “blessed” by Jesus nor have I submitted to his “love” and thus I needed to be made aware of his power. And thus, the stories of “miracles” commenced. The accounts told by the head of the ministry seemed so far fetched that I really was in, albeit skeptical, awe.
The ministry was such a bizarre space that initially I was intrigued. The woman who first greeted us began speaking about adult baptism and then I realized I had really stumbled upon “born-again” Lebanese Christians. I would have never dreamed that they might inhabit Lebanon as well but, once again I was wrong. At one point I asked the head of the ministry to switch into Arabic—at least I could make a teaching moment out of this and zone out if need be, but alas, after a few minutes she switched back into English.
The woman then began telling me how she “found” Jesus and how she had been really depressed (and could only see “pornographic images” *confused face*) prior to her enlightment. As the hour trudged by, she began to tell me that Jesus was waiting for me and that I am special and I just need to open my heart and feel his love. GET ME OUT OF HERE was my feeling at this point. I finally reminded my sweet classmate that we needed to do our homework. I clutched my purse in hopes of making my point. When we were about to leave (Halleluja) I said goodbye and the woman hugged me and began praying over me. She wanted to save my soul.
Once we had finally left the “bookshop” my first words to my classmate went something like this: “Now this is something to write home about.” And so voilá.
It took me about an three hours to calm down completely from the visit and settle my nerves. I hate when people try to force things down my throat and I am not a fan of extremism in any form. If the woman really wanted to make me feel something spiritual she should have been much more sensitive so at least I could come away from the experience with a good feeling or at least an understanding and respect of a view that differs from my own. She was the opposite of successful. But, at least she provided a good story, I guess 😉