Galactic Guide To Gospel Missions

Watch out! The Anthrosians are fiercely hospitable. They are dangerous in their desire to show outsiders warmth and welcome. Recall, if you will, the first millennia of galactic missions when there were many lessons being learned, like that which Bufford the Bulbous discovered unintentionally while on gospel mission to Anthros.

It was star-year 143G. Bufford’s small congregation was populated by enthusiastic Anthrosian listeners. It had taken nearly 2 years to expel the ancient tradition of holy biting from the church services. With a myriad of teeth marks across his forehead, he was proud to wear the tooth-rutted evidence of their affection for him, even though the church was officially against all ritual gnawing. Pastor Buford was happy to be making progress; however, he was still finding it difficult to make the Anthrosians understand the beautiful simplicity of the gospel. Though he and his interpreter had worked tirelessly, each sermon seemed to fill the Anthrosian congregation with more confusion. He serendipitously discovered the source of the problem during an after-church meal with one of his church’s charter members.

Bufford had been dining for more than an hour at the table of a congregant whose name roughly translated to Pooger The Feverish. An hour on and still more steaming courses were being brought. Bufford, always aware of the moment at which satisfaction crossed to that shady land of gluttony, said, “No more, please. I can’t force myself to eat anymore, or I will explode,”

His novice interpreter, whose language skills were more neophyte than a protoplanetary dust mote, spoke up apprehensively and thus informed Pooger of Bufford’s strange request. Bufford’s words were rendered “More, please. Force feed me until my extremities erupt.”

No one was aware that the translation had been mangled. Pooger assumed that this must have been a custom on Pastor Bufford’s homeworld. The echoing response which came through the interpreter was, “The good pastor should not have to suffer homesickness. We will happily make him sick here.”

Sensing that some grievous misunderstand had been suffered, Bufford tried to protest, but his host’s cultural sensitivity ran too deep, apparently mistaking the pastor’s flailing as part of his hometown ritual.

Pooger, the Feverish, sweatier than ever, summoned a team of underlings to hold Bufford to his velveted chair, while the portly Pooger crammed into his mouth wingless beetle cakes, ground moon shroom, and furry bloat poppers. He punctuated the feedings with a continuous flow of Throop, a fermented beverage made from Optusian walrus secretion.

By the time his interpreter realized his mistake, Bufford’s body was reacting quite bulbously to the gracious force-feeding. It’s known throughout the galaxy, though Pooger was unaware, that mixing throop and moon shrooms is dangerous for anyone who is not yet accustomed to the low atmospheric pressure of Anthros. As the thinning epidermis stretched painfully to accommodate the fermenting gasses in his gut, Bufford thought, “Oh. This is why they don’t understand my sermons.” Bufford was beamed to the nearest clinic pod to be surgically deflated, thrilled to have discovered why his church members were so confused. Something was certainly being lost in translation.

Not even a week passed before he returned to continue his work, no longer the bulbous and no longer relying on interpreters. He learned the language himself and lead a successful ministry to the Anthrosian people for years to come.

The lesson of Bufford the Bulbous is this: be clear. The meaning of words matters. Every gospel presentation must be given with words that both the presenter and the audience are familiar with. Phrases that have questionable interpretations or subjective meanings have no place in a well-crafted gospel presentation.