Catching Salmon

Sat in my church, sanctuary 21 in Durham this morning. We have been packed with homeless guys lately who converge on S21 to get soup and tea and some banter and some love. This morning I sat having breakfast with seven of them. They were telling me that they had spent the afternoon yesterday by the river Wear trying to catch salmon with their bare hands because they were so hungry. Everyday they come with their stories of survival, some are heartfelt others you can tell are massively embellished! But one story really struck me today. One guy called Shorty was kind of answering a question I had asked about how he had ended up in the position he is in. He said that he had been born into a gypsy family. His father was abusive towards his mother and his brother as well as to him.

He looked at me with sad, almost vacant eyes and told me of one thing he can remember that he says sticks with him always. He said that he loved horses as a kid, and he always dreamed of a horse. When he was eight he dared to ask his dad for a horse. His dad said he would buy him one for christmas. When Christmas day came he noticed there was a box, a large box under the tree. He excitedly went towards it and opened it up.

Inside it was full of horse manure (that wasn't the word he used) and his dad said "that is the only horse you'll be getting."

Extreme mental cruelty.

And it has left it's damage on Shorty.

So much so today his life is difficult to say the least.

He has never experienced fatherly love of an earthly kind.

How many? How many people are so bereft of love? Of compassion? Of acceptance? Of significance? Of a feeling of worth?

Sitting with these guys I as reminded that I could be entertaining angels. I was awash with a sense of Gods heartbeat as I sat eating my cheese toastie with them.

And God really does love them.

There is so much work to do guys.

Blessings.