It seems there was a Pentecostal Christian who was unfortunate enough to be shipwrecked in the South Pacific ocean. He struggled ashore on an uninhabited desert island where, for the next four years, he eked out a tenuous existence.

One day, a ship sought shelter in the bay, and the crew were astounded to see three grass huts not far from the water’s edge. They discovered our friend, and realising that he was the sole inhabitant of the island, they asked him about the three buildings.

“That’s where I live,” he said proudly of the first one.

Puzzled, they pointed to the second. “Oh, that’s where I go to church,” said our friend enthusiastically.

Even more mystified, they asked about the third building.

He said derisively, “That’s the church I used to go to!”