There is something sinister, Orwellian, North Korean about chairs are identical to each other. Laid out in formation, metronomic in their sameness, they judge your imperfect orthodoxy. They mock your quirks, and with their mass produced tubular steel legs they want to crush your character.
I love chairs that don't stack. I want to be in a political party where the chairs don't stack and I want to be in a church where the chairs don't stack either.
It was my grandmother who told me that in polite company one should never discuss religion or politics. If she's watching me now, she is probably spinning like one of her dusty '78 gramophone records*. My world is filled with both, and it's usually what I spend most of my time talking about - trying to build closer links between the Christian faith and politics and vice versa. To me at least the reason is simple; it's because I think God's best invention for society was the church, and democracy is the least worst way to run a nation. So in my mind, if these two great ideas don't have a healthy relationship - then we all suffer.
Society is made up of chairs of different shapes and colours. Some are comfortable and well upholstered and some are skinny nasty scratchy plastic. Some are made from wood and others brushed aluminium; the point I have been forced to realise is that political parties will be stronger and the church will be healthier when we realise our genius is in our differences.
I love chairs that don't stack.
*for readers born after 1985, before the invention of iTunes, before Spotify, before even Compact Discs, before Sony Walkmans, before 8 track cassettes before the 12" EP - music was played on these black vinyl discs called gramophone records - or records for short.