Carpet shops have a peculiar atmosphere. You walk to the door all chirpy thinking of lovely new carpets, and as soon as you enter, the atmosphere hits you. If boredom had a smell, this is it. If tedium was a aroma, this is it. If the Death Star has a lounge, this is where they bought they’re soft furnishings.
Ok, I exaggerate. No-one goes to a carpet shop all chirpy.
And the Death Star doesn’t have a lounge.
When we last moved, we had to re-carpet the entire house. Not a very exciting way to spend a lot of money. And you’d think it would be easy to choose. Once we’d decided we wanted a neutral, non-patterned, hard-wearing, mid-range ‘sort of beige’, I’d hoped we’d walk in and see it before the aroma of rolled piles sucked the life out of me.
But suddenly the subtle nuances of pattern changes seem to matter. This one is too dark. This one too light. This weave is too tight. This one is a bit rough. When you’re in the shop, the tiniest things become insanely important.
There is a huge difference between being in the shop, and being outside the shop.
How many churchy arguments take on so much significance because people spend too much time in the shop? So much time that the tiniest details become insanely important.
People outside the shop don’t really care about the thickness of your pile or the tightness of your weave. People outside the church don’t really care about most of the things we end up bickering about. So let’s learn from them.
Don’t let the carpet shop suck the life out of you. Breathe the Holy Spirit. Breathe life.
Time to stop before I go any further up the metaphorical cul-de-sac of comparing anything churchy with different shades of beige.