On the weekend, my 3 year-old daughter found a dead bumble bee in the garden, one of those giant comically fluffy Zeppelins that look like they shouldn't be able to walk, let alone fly. In a moment that parents note as being developmentally significant, she asked me, unprompted, if we should bury it. I don't recall ever having talked about burials with her, and I'm fairly sure she has little concept of death. Nevertheless, we did, and marked the hymenopteric grave with a Mini Milk stick.

I'm recounting this tale to the Alpharinos as we chow down on our pizzas, and it leads us onto talking about comfort. Mike, the church layman who helps run the course, says how it's much more comforting to say that grandma is in heaven rather than rotting in the ground. I suggest that this is deceitful. When is the right time to explain to a child what death is? I don't know, but I'm sure that an honest fudge is better than an outright fairy tale.

We're meant to be talking about how God guides us, but it's a bit of a pleasant ramble today. I don't know whether it's that we're getting friendly now, or whether it's the subject matter, but the tone is gentle, peaceful and rather personal. Toby recounts tales of how he was called to re-affirm his Christianity and take it up professionally, via dreams and coincidences. Toby says that God's timing is great, which reminds me of the clear confirmation bias we heard in last week's prayer session. One woman describes how whilst driving, she effectively had a message telling her it was time for her to have a baby. We hear how important it is to not think you are crazy when you start hearing from God.

Many Christians will tell of the moment when they felt something new and interpreted it to mean that they were in touch with the divine. Naturally, I believe that there must be a rational explanation. But with such personal experiences, so subject to later misremembering or partial interpretation, it's nigh-on impossible to give one.

Some readers have noted that this Cliff Richard brand of Christianity is not very interesting. Certainly it's not nearly as easy to mock as out-and-out fundamentalist creationists. Some have pointed out that listening to voices in your head whilst praying might result in bizarre behaviour. Hearing from God in your dreams might also fit into that category. But I think these small personal tales of faith are experiences of the majority of Christians, and the wacky ones are the vocal minority. Our course is all very English, and not very evangelical. And, based on what I have read and heard about other courses and the official doctrine, not very Alpha.

We go off-piste again with Toby talking about how he's been involved in exorcisms. I am utterly bemused. I had no idea, but dioceses are required to have an exorcist. We're talking about demonic possession here. He explains that most are clearly the product of psychiatric disorders, and they approach each with that in mind. But others were not so easily explainable. "You're talking about ghosts?" I ask. "Oh no, not if you mean the spirits of the dead spooking around houses. These were poltergeists," he says. "Is that not just a type of ghost?" I ask, looking around for support to see if I have gone crazy. Toby says "I've seen things that I simply cannot explain."

I think I've gone soft. Fear not: Toby is already smacking his lips at the session in a fortnight's time for which the theme is "healing". I'll be fully tooled up for a barney. But today these are real people with genuine emotional beliefs. I may strenuously disagree, and certainly they may be ignorant or wrong, but I believe, as we become more familiar, that they deserve to be listened to. Does tolerance of these beliefs pave the way to more extreme ideology? Probably. But disparaging them surely only stokes those fires even more.

Meanwhile, the next day, I found my daughter had dug up the bee and was pulling its wings off. You can insert your own interpretation of this as allegory for human nature below.