8 Things Only Presbyterians Will Understand

These are the things only Presbyterians will understand.

1. Wearing intrusive jingle bells to accentuate your movements and discomfort during sermons

As a full-fledged “Presby,” you remember being granted the priviledge of intrusive jinglebells placed in your pockets and strapped to your arms. Shifting your weight, leaving to make bathroom, and coddling an infant became quite the spectacle for the rest of the sweaty church

2. Being charged extra on toll roads

As if receiving “Satan’s Itchy Kisses” and constant noogies from the Presbytery wasn’t enough, you were also charged a little extra on toll roads. Being a Presbyterian made road trips a tad more expensive.

3. “The Presbyterian Tidy Men” intruding upon your space to clean up your nasty messes

These Swedish men had no regard for your personal space, but they really cared about that dirt you tracked in. They gobbled it right up and callously moved to the next mess, leaving you a bit perturbed — which is exactly what John Calvin felt towards the Papistry.

4. Getting buried by golden goblets when you turned thirteen

The worst part was forgetting to make bathroom before the three-hour event designed to commemorate becoming a thirteened man or woman.

5. Almost morphing into the Brown Power Ranger during altar calls

“Here it comes,” you said when visiting the Baptist church down the road. “Do not morph into the Brown Ranger right now.”

6. Combing through waste baskets to find John Knox’s special tooth

March 8th was always a special, bodacious time when Scottish Reformer John Knox was celebrated by hiding the “Knox Tooth” in a waste basket somewhere in the church. You smiled with glee as plastic gloves were passed out to protect from, what they termed, “The Germs of Wretched Catholocism.”

7. Everyone wearing the same “Hi, I’m Cal Ripken” name-tag to promote unity

Life-changing indeed: The same name-tag, with the same name, every week.

8. Memorizing Wilford Brimley’s “Diabeetus” commercial for membership

“Hi, I’m Wilford Brimley,” you repeated to the smiling, jocular Presbytery trying to toss candy corn in your mouth while you did it. Being a Presbyterian had its perks.

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