I’m a Bible-carrying Mr Bean. Here’s the proof

My life has been packed full of embarrassing moments. I’d like to be more competent at navigating the daily intricacies of life but, as a Christian leader, I’ve often felt like a Bible-carrying Mr Bean. But out of my vast and ever-increasing collection of gaffs, the one I share here is perhaps the most excruciating.

It began with a desire to buy an antique grandfather clock. I’d been eyeing one in a local shop for a while, and I’d stopped by to take a photo of it. The plan was to send the snap to a clock specialist for a second opinion. 

A few days later, I had minor surgery. I’d like to resist being indelicate but suffice to say that the surgeon was attending to my posterior region. Wanting to follow up on the procedure, the doctor called to ask if I was recovering well. “I’d like to check that everything is OK,” he murmured, “but I can’t fit you in for an appointment for a while.” It was then that he came up with what seemed a rather bizarre but bright idea. “Tell you what…just take a photo with your phone and email it over to me. That way I can check on you without the need for you to come in.” 

When doctors speak, I do what I’m told, so I navigated taking the rather awkward photo, saved it to my phone and duly sent it to him; he emailed back that all was well. 

I really meant to delete that photo. But in the rush and busyness of life, it slipped my mind. 

A week or so later, on holiday with some friends in the Cotswolds, we passed an antique clock shop. Wanting to seize the opportunity to get that expert opinion, I dashed into the store, marched up to the owner, located what I thought was the clock photo and offered the phone for his perusal. “Can I ask,” I ventured. “What you do think of that?”

In a moment of abject horror, I realised that I had pulled up the wrong snapshot, and I was now waving a most unflattering image under the nose of a complete stranger. I stammered out an apology, located the correct picture and proceeded to not listen at all to his verdict. I just remember that he said that he didn’t like the clock one bit and even told me that he would not think of having the item in his shop. Personally, I think his vehement ire was caused not by the clock, but rather by becoming so intimately acquainted with me. 

Crimson faced, I fled. 

So why did this most awful episode occur? The answer is simple: I tend to live my life at high speed. I’m usually the first to finish a meal, even though it’s unlikely someone is going to steal my chicken. I speed read, and sometimes open my mouth without pausing to activate my brain. I find it quite difficult to be fully present. When out for a delightful walk in the country, I up my pace as I ponder what I need to do when I get home. 

And so my current project is to deliberately reduce my pace and live each minute with my eyes and heart wide open, soaking up the gravy of each moment. That way I might avoid further embarrassing agonies. 

As for the clock, I did go ahead and buy it after all. That photo has now been deleted. 

And the other surgically induced pic? Fear not. I’ve got rid of that too. 

I’m relieved it’s all behind me now.