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| Some of my crew |
Diary of a skills tutor .....
9:20am. It’s snowing; it’s bitterly cold. This morning I’m expecting N....... Where is she? Running late, it appears, so I’ll just have five minutes quiet with a warm-up mug of coffee...
9:22am: No chance: C......... comes in and desperately needs to make a phone call to his mum: he’s just out of hospital from a long stay after being beaten up and, how tragic, he has permanent brain damage and it’s affecting his limbs. Meanwhile, he’s expecting the Bridge to be open and it’s not; it's Friday. (The Bridge is our drop-in for homeless people.)
"Here, C......, it’s been snowing outside, and that wind is bitter; come in and have a cuppa – or two."
9:45am. Then N...... arrives – late but nonetheless eager as ever. She is intrigued as to what C...... is also doing in the room. We do some reading together and then she tells me she wants to be a volunteer help in the classroom. Sounds a wonderful idea. "How about Mondays?" I suggest.
Then, 10:30am the ladies come – eight of them – followed by the men, three of them, each a little late. They've come for our 'How to do Job Interviews' course. As nearly always, it has to be combined with an English lesson as most folk attending come from outside the UK. Today we’re helping them write a personal statement. That's fun. Why? What does ‘good attitude’ mean or 'enthusiasm'? They look blank until Jo and I do our double-act. I'm a lazy so-and-so, uninterested in doing any job I'm asked to do and I can pull a long face which makes them laugh. Yes, it really is fun and Jo does a brilliant job leading this group.
12:30pm: Lunch? A quick break and then, at 1.00pm, in comes D.......; he’s an ex-alcoholic and wants to learn to read long words; he tries really hard and if he keeps coming I reckon we can crack this one. When we've finished he pulls out a carrier–bag. "Here’s something to water," he says kindly. I open the bag with delight - a little plant,with delicate red flowers.
Then, 1:30pm, M....... arrives and, after an hour, looks down with pleasure at a letter she has carefully written and typed out. Lastly, in comes J....., a homeless man. He wants to learn to use possessive apostrophes. He’s intelligent alright, just doesn’t fit the mould.
'Something' to water? 'People' more like. Watering their abilities, their confidence, their need of self-esteem and hopefully the seed of the kingdom in their hearts. We always hope that Jesus Centres provide the environment where those priceless seeds can germinate and grow.
Watering, watering, watering. I never done much gardening and I'm abysmal at looking after house plants but this kind of watering, well, I can't help but really love it .... it's investment in people ... it's more than 'worthwhile'. Hope to see you all next week!
While walking in the bush in New South Wales my cousin introduced me to a strange plant: the Grass Tree. From its grassy base protrudes a long flowering spike, once used as spear shafts by the Eora (Aboriginal people living along the south east coastline). It is a very slow-growing plant and begins to flower and seed when - unlikely as it seems - the bush fire rages!
Other plants and fauna in the bush are also dependent on that seeming enemy, the bush fire, to flourish, to reproduce and so maintain their hold in that harsh environment.
The fire of God’s Holy Spirit purges the church; it burns up; sin is destroyed; unhelpful influences are cleared away. But it also causes new ministries to flower and seed, bringing fresh growth to God’s church.
We need the fire, painful though it is. Fresh anointing and new ways of seeing and doing things are going to emerge; unlikely people with unlikely gifts will come to the fore. We won’t always be able to depend on past ways of doing things anymore. We’ve got to find God afresh; we’ve got to find His thinking, His ways for a new era. It’s got to be good. We need it.
Here I am, walking along the rocky coast of the South Pacific, Copacabana, eastern Australia, to be precise. The surf beckons and draws as great waves roll in from the vast ocean and break against the giant boulders that have fallen and lie at the foot of parent cliffs. The morning light has crept along and up the distant horizon and the sun shines on the seething, turquoise-blue water. I’m transfixed, staring at this rare sight (for me) of breath-taking, oceanic beauty.
Muffin however, is only interested in one thing: smells. He’s a beagle (cum spaniel) and this morning he’s found a treasure in the local surf club. O dear, where is he? I run over the dunes calling for him and one of the attendants there points to their communal eating place and I find him with his nose in a discarded paper carton (a common occurence). Sorry, Muffin, it’s the lead from now on.
You see, we’re looking for different things. For me it’s the sounds, the sights, the colours, the panorama of clouds, the looks and smells of the Pacific, maybe a sighting of dolphins or perhaps even a shark. For Muffin, it’s the leftovers and anything tasty that’s been washed up on the tide.
Such is life. We’re all on this earth and we’re each looking for different things - and what we look for is often what we find.
People, people to use or to make money from, people to have sex with, people to entertain or be entertained by, people for company … people, people. Or wait, am I looking for people - to love - the Jesus way, that is. I’ll find them alright.
O dear, I’ve just found out. Muffins aren’t allowed here – not on this part of the beach. There’s a sign up and I just didn’t notice - probably because I was engrossed with the sheer magnificence of the rocky coastline before me. Anyway, no fine this time. I know what I’m looking for now; staring at this wide, wide ocean has got me thinking – not like Muffin. His beagle instincts have already told him. Muffins always know what they want!
If God is perfect and master of the universe, why does He allow human suffering? Many of us have been asked that question and often by people who have encountered great personal sorrow. Whatever answer we give, surely it cannot be a trite or an easy one and perhaps, with humility, we have to admit we can only offer a partial one.
But one thing I do know is that suffering, our own or others, draws either the best or the worse out of us.
My younger brother-in-law has recently died. A tragedy? Yes. He’s left a grieving wife, a twelve year old and two teenagers behind. What is that all about? I’ve asked the question myself.
But his death has resulted in a great outpouring of generosity from friends, family, work colleagues, neighbours and staff in the children’s schools. It’s brought out the best in many, as I said, a river of generosity and drawn people close together. It’s shown up a quality of friendship that is … well, worth its weight in gold.
I don’t understand the reasons for such suffering, the quick onrush of an aggressive and rare cancer no drugs or treatment could temper. But I do know much kindness followed, kindness that would not have shown itself in such a unique way if that tragedy had never occurred.
Perhaps the best way to answer that difficult question is not to try and explain why we think God allows such things but describe what we ourselves have experienced at such times. If one side of the coin is dark, dark, dark the other surely glints brightly, gold in the morning sunshine. What is in our hearts, whether good or bad, is drawn out, we are melted in our shared grief into oneness with our fellows and reminded of the things that really matter.
And perhaps, too, we can add the experience of the suffering God Himself: “The cross is God taking on flesh and blood and saying, "Me too” ― Rob Bell.
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away. Revelation 21: 1.
Underland: this is a new experience. I mean, you step off the plane (I'm from the UK) and everything is, well, different, a new world. No, let’s rephrase that. You keep seeing things that are ‘like' something you’ve seen before but not like them.
You turn your head and point, ‘Hey, there’s some wagtails’ but they’re bigger than ours and have different markings; and here’s some kookaburras, they're rather like kingfishers but larger and quite another colour … different. The sky, the southern sky – it’s the same but different - above my head a massive canopy, dotted with stars I have never, ever seen before. And the sea, there’s the familiar, rolling waves and roaring drone but .. it’s different: turquoise-blue and clear. And those birds, the Galahs … they’ve got the head of a parrot and the body of a pigeon. Well, I’m blowed. It’s a different world, the same - but different.
You know, it’s going to be a little like this on the New Earth: the same but different – but markedly more so.
And yet, here, in Underland, there are things that are just as different as can be. I mean, I’ve never, ever seen anything similar to that lopping, jumping, comical creature, the kangaroo, who sits on its hind legs endlessly munching - grass, I suppose. They’re fascinating, absolutely. And, I reckon, on the New Earth there’ll be those strange, strange creatures and entities that are quite unlike anything we have ever seen. I mean, think of the living creatures in Revelation, covered with eyes, back and front and with six wings: “The first living creature was like a lion, the second was like an ox, the third had a face like a man, the fourth was like a flying eagle (Revelations 4:7). And what about the sea in front of the throne which looks like a sea of glass, clear as crystal (Revelations 4:6).
I enjoy the word ‘like.’ It doesn’t mean quite the same as ‘identical’. We could talk, too, about Ezekiel’s strange and wonderful, unearthly visions of those burning, celestial beings, the cherubim, with four faces each whose awesome task it to propel the throne of God (Ezekiel 1: 4-27).
The New Earth, that’s something to look forward to. I reckon it will be the same but different, but then we’ll encounter other things, totally unknown, unrecognisable, unheard of. I’m looking forward to it, I really am.
My mind is flicking back now about 2500 years to the days of the beautiful Jewish Queen Esther, super-glam of the ancient Persian Empire, surrounded by jostling and ambitious men, each vying for position, prestige and honour. Indeed, she had everything ... luxury, acclaim and clearly the King’s favour. But, she was not afraid to lose it all.
Perhaps I should rephrase that last comment. She probably was afraid but true courage outstrips fear and she certainly had some of that. See her now, risking life, risking everything for the sake of God’ s honour, God’s people. “If I perish, I perish” (Esther 4: 16 ) were her immortal words before she took the precarious step of entering the king’s presence uninvited in order to save her people from annihilation as the result of a monstrous ruling.
What would have been the headline that day? Death or glory? Esther’s dance with death: subtitle: queen risks life to gain audience with king.
I admire people, always, who trembling, embrace courage, risking reputation, honour for something higher, more important than themselves. Superstar Esther, you really did become a superstar in my eyes that day. And there have been many, many more like you since - usually hidden, unrecorded – stars, superstars. Heaven will reveal them.
O for the courage that outstrips fear. Esther prevented a catastrophe on a vast scale. What can be achieved if we step out, push past our dreadful enemy, Fear, take Courage by the arm and embrace the words of a Lioness: “If I perish, I perish?”
Thoughts from the book of Esther, Old Testament.
There are many advantages of living in Christian community: one of them is this: we, as a community, can take in and assist people in a way that we just couldn’t on our own.
Sarah (not her real name) is an asylum seeker who is staying at our house. She comes from, indeed is fleeing from, a place where it is shameful for women to be seen on the streets or in shops on their own. And, here she is, in the UK, alone and with a small child. For people like her, our streets and public areas can seem very frightening places; things we think nothing of - a trip to the supermarket or a ride on the bus – can be a scary ordeal.
Sarah is staying for a few months with us before she goes to live in her own place. She is excited about that prospect but, as yet, unprepared - and that’s our job. One of us is teaching her how to do the washing (she comes from a privileged background where these things are often done for you). Another is taking her out on the bus to give her confidence to travel on her own. I am teaching her how to shop.
However, none of us can teach her how to cook chapattis. Today she is cooking for us – yum, something to look forward to when I get home!
This week she has reached two milestones: a lone bus trip (you should have seen the pleasure on her face when she returned) and a trip to the post office (where she went to the counter to have two parcels weighed and posted).
It’s a journey towards independence which she is making and she’s learning it in what may seem an unlikely place – Christian community.
Christian community is not about hanging onto people; it's about releasing people to be, well, their best, whatever that may be. Maybe, in a few months, we won’t see much of Sarah – she
will have moved on. But, we’ve seen her on her way and hopefully what she has learned will affect the rest of her life. It will all have
been worth it; we will have done something together, something actually very special, something that I could never had done on my own.
