The People Factory

 Re-Posted from "Meditations of a Charismatic Calvinist Who Does Not Speak in Tongues"

There was a young lady, who wanted to serve the King. And she was told that to do so she must go to the People Factory, so she set out. As she approached the People Factory, she was meet by a fashionably dressed man with the look of a salesman.

"Welcome to the People Factory," the man said, "We have all the newest models, along with the sentimental favorites. All these are here to make you over into a true servant of the King. Now what type of servant are you interested in becoming?"

"You mean I have to decide?" replied the girl.

"We are a full service People Factory. You have a variety of options--just to suit a discerning customer like you. Feel free to come in and look around. We think our inventory speaks for itself."

The People Factory was a huge squat building of brick and steel with a corrugated steel roof and three chimneys spewing smoke. Between her and the barn-door-type entrance stood a long line of people waiting to get in. On the other side there was a series of doors, and out of each came a different stream of people.

Out of one door marched an army of smartly dressed men and women. The men all wore suits and ties, and the women rather long dresses. They had the stern, determined look of people around whom you should watch you're p's and q's. The next group were more casually dressed and moved with a relaxed, ambling gait. They smiled and chatted cheerfully as they walked by. But somehow, they seemed a little fake; their smiles looked painted on and their talk seemed superficial. The next group did not walk; they danced, and some did cartwheels. They were singing and shouting and waving banners as they cavorted by. Then she saw a group of what looked like young people (though she spied traces of gray hair). These wore t-shirts and jeans, with tattoos and with all manner of jewelry decorating their body piercings. She stood perplexed, wondering which, if any of these,  the King really wanted her to become. And as she stared she saw a number of other groups, all different. 

The salesman kept insisting she must make a choice, but she managed to sneak away by herself. She was sitting under a tree thinking when an older woman approached her. "You look confused. Can I be of assistance?" said the woman.


"Do I need to go through the People Factory to serve the King?" the girl blurted out helplessly.

"Not at all," the woman responded, "The King's instructions say we are related to Him as parts to a body, each with its own nature and function. There are general rules, but we were not meant to be all duplicates." The girl rose up and walked away slowly with the woman, discussing these things. And the People Factory vanished away into the distance.