AS A kid I was part of a congregation of adults who believed in a God.
By contrast, most of my generation stopped believing in things at around the time the tooth fairy was revealed to be Uncle Trevor dressed in a ballerina outfit.
Now, we focus on the practical... we believe in the power of the microwave, we believe in washing machines and Nescafe coffee, packets of Haribo sweets and Marks and Spencer ‘two dine for £10’ deals.
However, I will admit even a posh roast dinner with bubbly doesn’t add up to much compared to faith in an omni-scient Heaven-based Being.
I’m now an agnostic, but I do appreciate the things I was taught as a child. Certain principles have stuck.
Journalism is not usually a Biblical job, but one tale came up just last weekend while I was on reporting duty.
My weekends at work usually involve monitoring emergency services, and covering accidents, crimes and drunken escapades. I tap away at ongoing stories, update the website and sort the post. Not a palm branch, burning bush or dove in sight.
This week I covered Kendal’s march for radiotherapy services.I’ve had a long interest in the plight of patients in the Bay area but I wasn’t expecting so many residents to share my enthusiasm for local health.
My jaw dropped when I saw crowds gathered at Abbot Hall to demand a radiotherapy unit to Kendal. I was only one of more than the 2,000 people.
When the march reached Kendal’s Birdcage monument, I stopped, turned around and stared. You couldn’t see the end of the lines of people.
It was like nothing I had ever encountered before – except in tales of Moses in My Book of Bible Stories, a big yellow book my mum would read to me when I was a kid.
But the people here weren’t asking for Godly intervention, they were just showing their faith in the power of the public.
And when you stand with hundreds of other people, who have all turned out to try to make life better and longer for others, it’s difficult not to feel that particular belief grow too.