I’ve chosen a snippet from Don’t Kiss the Vicar as it’s appropriate to the day in a number of ways.
Friday dawned bright, which it had a habit of not doing, given that it was Dan’s one proper day off. Even St Thomas’s, which suffered from being built at the height of the Victorian era, looked almost attractive, the grey church stonework gleaming where the overnight rain lingered on it. God was in his heaven and all was right with the world, although that still had to be confirmed.
The man with the doubts. The one who insisted that if he didn’t see something with his own eyes, touch it with his fingers, then he wasn’t going to believe it. Apt that Danny had ended up here, given his own uncertainties. If he didn’t see an outward proof of inward emotion, didn’t feel it with his fingers, taste it on his lips, hear it with his ears, then he had no proof that it existed.
No wonder he’d always been popular with those who struggled with their faith and found themselves living in the constant half light of doubts at war with certainties. The happy-clappy “we only have to claim the victory to have it” brigade had no patience for his qualms, but he had little time for them in return. Joy was all very well, but their terrible, shiny, plastic happiness, the ability to ignore all sorts of difficult questions and blame every bad thing on a lack of faith, did his head in.
More excerpts at the Rainbow Snippets group.