The cry of the last

"indeed there are those who are last who will be first, and first who will be last."
(Luke 13: 30)

It's 11am on the first Tuesday back in Sanctuary21 after Easter.

And already our place is filling up with our ever increasing family of people from the city here in Durham.

Sitting on the couch is a wiry, tough looking guy. His bald head is half covered by a dark green tattoo of a dragon. It's fearsome looking tail almost stretching to the middle of his cheek. He has just come straight from a night sleeping behind Argos in Durham City Centre.

Next to him on the couch is a guy who came out of prison last thursday. He is drunk even at this early hour. He is on the phone speaking to who knows who in a drunken voice, trying to ask for a crisis loan from the local government probably so he can get more drink.

Then sitting in the cafe is a woman who is extremely lonely and dirty. She has the remnants of a thousand dinners on her filthy black fleece. She just wants to talk to whoever is around.

A lady sitting over the far side is coughing violently. She has picked up a chronic chest infection probably due to the poor living conditions she has at home.

Another homeless guy has come in this morning wearing a brand new Dior leather Jacket. I didn't ask!

One of the guys who comes in every day, today is wearing a coat that is five times too small for him. He looks like the incredible hulk having one of his dramatic body changes! He went to take it off and he just couldn't so I had to take it off for him. But this is a guy who is virtually friendless, he is dirty, and needy, and in desperate need of company.

In comes a guy who was released from prison after fourteen years. He came straight to our family and has been everyday since. He is desperately lonely, he has lost his job, his family everything. He has nothing.

The phone rings and it is a lady who had been in Durham last week. She had been to the prayer hatch, our street prayer desk. Someone had prayed with her as she was desperately trying to come to terms with the loss of her son, and she just wanted to say thank you.

Those people who live on the streets plug their cheap mobile phones into our electric.

There is the unmistakeable fumes of alcohol filling the airwaves in our sanctuary.

The evidence is that Jesus is alive.

After preaching couple of times over Easter and after all I have said to listening ears over the weekend, I was struck this morning that Christ really is alive.

He is in the broken, the needy, the poor, the terrified, the hopelessly floundering people who are desperate for help.

This morning Jesus made his face clear to my eyes.

He is in the eyes of the broken.

He has a tattoo on his head!

He has a hundred dinner bits on his fleece.

He has a chest infection that needs healing.

He has just come in freezing from a night behind Argos, desperate for a hot drink and a cheese toastie.

He is evident the cry of those who are seen as last.

He is desperate for love, for food and drink, for clothing, for company. Desperate for a family, a loving community.

But so much of the world walks by.

It fails to recognise him.

It misses the need.

It doesn't spot the evidence.

It doesn't hear the cry of the last.

Let's make sure that we, the church, doesn't do likewise.

Jesus is in the cry of the last.

He is the cry of the last.

The last will be first.

For some, Easter will be tucked away until next time around.

Don't pack it away.

Let the aliveness of Jesus be a reality in everyone you come across.

Especially in the cry of the last.

Crosses and Signposts

Satellite navigation is a great thing. But it kind of takes the work out of your long trips.

Last week I had to drive from Durham to Calver in Derbyshire to Cliff College to be precise. Cliff is nestled into some amazing countryside in the peak district National Park. I was on my way to have a meeting to discuss my dissertation that will finish off my Masters degree in Mission specialising in Celtic Mission and Christianity.

It's a tricky journey. But this time I decided I was going to go Sat Navless! I was going to rely on the signposts.

I was fine for the first part of the journey down the A1 onto the M1 down to junction 28 and then followed the signs to Chesterfield. I was listening to Talk Sport on the Radio as I drove. I was so engrossed in one of the discussions that I missed a signpost in Chesterfield at a large roundabout.

So I guessed.

I ended up going horribly wrong.

I turned onto a road that I fast realised was a major road out of Chesterfield.

It was fourteen miles before I found a slip road to get off it and turn back round!

I'd gone almost 30 miles out of my way by the time I reached the roundabout where I had gone wrong in the first place!

I connected with the right road this time and found my way to college easily after that.

As I drove through the breathtaking scenery in an area called Hope Valley a really clear voice spoke into my thoughts.

It was a question.

Is the cross a signpost or a destination?

It was a really strange but stirring question.

As I thought about I began to think seriously on the side of the cross can't be a destination as it points to so much more.

For Jesus the cross was not his final destination.

So I guess it could be a signpost.

I thought about the wrong turn I'd just made that had caused me so much stress.

My mind began to show me the times in my life I had got as far as the cross and then took a wrong turn or worse just never went beyond the cross. I began to see the many people I minister to on a daily basis some of whom seem to get to the cross or let me take them to the cross with some baggage or with some issues or with deep seated needs only to decide that they would be better going another way usually deal with things on their own terms. I've done it myself so many times.
I'd not really seen the cross as a signpost in the same light before.

The cross points us to something beyond, to something better, to something that is full of life.

After all that's what the resurrection is about yeah?

The thing is if we see the cross as a destination then what we will find is, well, death?
I know there is real significance in the death of Jesus, of course there is.

But Jesus did not stay dead.

So for him the cross was not a destination.

It was signpost for eternity, to something wildly beyond our deepest dreams.

It seems to be to be so much more of a signpost. Pointing us to a better way.

I saw this in action just last week. In our Church Sanctuary 21 Salvation Army in Durham. We have many broken and needy people who belong to our community. The homeless, the poor, who have virtually nothing get drawn to us as if a massive spiritual magnet is drawing them to us to find a family really.

One of the guys, a guy called David came in last Saturday. David has never been to school. He has difficulty with basic things such as reading and literacy. He is really poor he has nothing. He has few friends.

He is so amazing.

We love him so much at our place.

He came in last Saturday and he looked troubled.

So troubled.

I asked him what's up? He told me in a really sad voice that he had argued with his best friend and he had lost his temper and had shouted at her and they were not talking. One of the things David does is that he draws. He loves to draw pictures. He asks everybody can I draw you something. Lots of people in our community often get drawings. I certainly get a different drawing every day almost!

It is such an honour to receive them.

He has no-one else to give his pictures to. And I love to watch his face as people tell him how amazing these pictures are as they thank him for them. It somehow makes a difference to him, he almost wears a sense of worth, something he doesn't experience from the world. The drawings are really childlike. But they are usually pictures he draws straight from bible stories. Just after he had told me about the argument, he asked me could he draw me a picture today? I said of course. He said that he would like to draw a picture of the cross. So he got his little 49p exercise book out and a pencil. I went to make us both a cup of tea as he drew. I watched through the hatch in the kitchen as he drew. I noticed that as he drew, tears were falling from his eyes direct on to the paper. I kind of left him for a few minutes until I knew he was finished. I could see he was having some kind of special moment as he drew the cross. I went back in with our tea, and I sat down opposite him. I asked him why he was so emotional. He said that as he was drawing three crosses on a hill, he began to think about the argument with his friend and he said, "Gary I wanted to draw Jesus on the cross but I realised that he had moved on. And if he could move on after going through what he went through I suddenly knew that I had to ring my friend no matter what she had done and I had to make it up with her."

That is the power of the resurrection guys.

I held back the tears just as he shared this with me. The cross to David that morning was a signpost. A signpost to a better way.

This Easter it's something to think about.

Don't make the cross your destination.

Let it point you to something more.

Much more.

Choose life not death whatever your circumstances.

Be blessed, so blessed this Easter guys.

Thin place

Lately I have found myself more and more drawn to write and study for blogs, talks, my academic work and also to write up my prayer journal in my favourite coffee place. It defies logic really. Generally people Need peace and quiet even total silence to be able to encounter God and work, especially to produce written work. But I have found it really difficult for instance to work in my office. I think that the distractions that are around my office, such as my plumbed in Sky TV, my playstation, my book shelf. All these things hang around while I try to work. Before long if I'm not careful I'm playing another league match on Pro evolution soccer or turning on LFC TV to catch a glimpse of my teams news.

But when I get into the Coffee House in Durham City Centre, I seem to able to connect spiritually very easily, and before long I am in the flow of production.

I've been thinking about this lately why is it I find this place so spiritually alive?

My mind went back to a morning when I was praying in Durham Cathedral.It was very early in the morning and I was the only one in the building. I had literally just started to pray when my phone began to ring. Mobile phones are specifically not allowed to be switched on in Durham Cathedral. Within five seconds a lady in a purple robe appeared from behind one of the large ancient stone pillars in the main space of the building. She said in a very cross tone. "you are not allowed to use mobiles in here!" I replied with these very words, "I am so sorry I've just come to pray and I had forgotten to switch it off." she replied in a more authoritative tone, "I do not want to hear your excuses could you please leave." not wanting to cause a scene, I said, "bless you", and left. I walked straight down to the coffee house, my favourite place in Durham. Peter the owner said, "your not looking to happy." I began to explain to him that I must be the only minister in Durham to ever have been kicked out of the cathedral. We laughed about it together and he gave me a free cup of coffee to help soften the hurt i'd just experienced.

The thing about that, well there are many things I could write about that actually, what if i'd been a non-Christian looking for help? What impression of Christianity would I have had? but the thing about that morning is this, that I received more love from the non-Christian community than I did in a place where more than anywhere else I should have received the love expected through people who represent Jesus of Nazareth.

This came to my mind and I think made me think even more about the relevance of place. Are places important? Are specific buildings important. Theologically it doesn't seem to fit as I believe God is everywhere, and no doubt he is. But there are seemingly specific places where God seems to be really close? Where heaven seems really close? Where the kingdom of God is near?

The coffee house in Durham is one of these places for me. The Celtic people would have called it a thin place. A place where the limits between heaven and earth are very thin and Gods presence is more easily accessed. When I pray in there I connect so easily God really does speak more clearly than in many other places including a magnificent cathedral with a thousand or so years of Christian history. The celts believed some geographical places, places of extreme beauty such as a beautiful bay or a quiet river, or in the middle of some dark forest somewhere, or in a small basic monastic cell they could find connection with God more easily. They could face up to their demons more easily. They could find peace and consequently restoration and ultimately transformation.

I guess throughout history place has been important. In our fast paced world today, especially when we look at church, and the vast throng of would be change mongers who kind of unwittingly almost purport abandonment of our places. They speak out their eloquent lines and write their powerful words in books presenting a hard hitting message that we need to break out of our walls, we need to go to them, we need to get out of here and go to there. We need to reach people on the streets. Well we do no doubt. But I think we would do well to remember that most of the world still are looking for a place. A place of community, of connection and of love. A place where they can find something more, something valuable.

A thin place.

My coffee place is definitely a thin place for me. I can't quantify or add any provable science to that remark. Maybe it's something to do with the atmosphere of acceptance I find there as opposed to the rejection I found in another place, I really don't know.

It just is.

I think sitting in the midst of the world about me I begin to sense and see what God is sensing and seeing. I connect and identify with what God is doing in the world. And as I connect with God in my thin place a flow, no, actually an outflow happens. An outflow of creativity and mission, love and a sense of Justice.

I pray guys that we will all find our thin places.

And we will not be so quick to abandon the need of place.

The Distance and now

I'm writing from Wetherstones in Durham City Centre this morning. I'm having breakfast before another day at S21 our Salvation Army Corps in the City.

This week has been a real challenge.

I have been battling with being unsettled, and longing to get back to a big City where we feel so much more settled. Living in a village is just not for me. It's so isolated, so quiet, too quiet. Our friends seem so far away, our families too. 

It has given me time to really talk to God and listen to him and that is a good thing, but I am ready to move on now. 

Yet the unsettled feeling is just a sacrifice I guess. It's for the kingdom  and is a small price to pay for seeing God move so amazingly where we are now. 

I am reminded today that God has our lives in his hands. I am reminded of the scripture God gave me at the moment I set out on my journey as a Christian leader. "This is what the Lord says to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I take hold of to subdue nations before him and to strip kings of their armour,  to open doors before him so that gates will not be shut: I will go before you and will level the mountains; I will break down gates of bronze and cut through bars of iron. (Isaiah 45: 1-2)

The fact is whatever I feel as a human being, and right now that is really unsettled, God is interested in me. He is going before me carving out a pathway. He is clearing the way to my future. So a key question for me this morning is how much do you trust God with the future? 

One of the amazing things God has worked in my life as we have experienced this really hard time we have had over the last four years in a barren land, is to see things through spiritual eyes and not through human eyes. And that makes trusting God with your life so much easier.

Maybe you are experiencing dry times just now?

Trust God with your life. 

Don't try and carve your own spiritual pathway out. God offers to do that for us.

And that is such a massive blessing.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Prayer City

PRAYER CITY

GARY LACEY

PRE SCRIPT

Having Coffee is one of my favourite pastimes .

The Coffee House In Durham City Centre is my favourite coffee shop.

Most days I start my day with a skinny cappuccino and a low fat blueberry muffin in this fantastic place. I've never in my life tasted blueberry muffins like them. They are moist in the middle and succulent all over with just a scattering of juicy blueberries.
It has to be said, I love them.

The coffee house itself is situated on the absolute corner of a major City Centre Junction looking out over a busy pedestrianised thoroughfare. The shop itself has a mixture of seating arrangements to choose from. Couches, leather comfortable chairs with low tables, or the standard tables and chairs found in most cafes. The floor is a laminated wood effect giving a feeling of maximum space. It is almost futuristic in it's interior decoration. Beautiful reds, blacks and cream blend exquisitely to create a calm relaxed atmosphere. Quiet music fills the air and is in no way obtrusive. Softly spoken conversations give off a gentle buzz into the air. The gentle clink of coffee cups and the welcoming aroma coming from the vast array of coffees that are on offer make this place a little haven in the City.

The most impressive thing about this little haven in the City is the windows. Roof to floor glass windows that look out in two different directions over the thoroughfares of the City. It's almost like you are sitting out on the street itself. This is a fantastic viewing gallery for people watching, and watching the City pass by.

Today, that's what I had been doing so far since walking trough the door at opening time.

One of the tasks I have got into a habit of doing while in this coffee shop most days is writing my journal. I write a kind of prayer journal everyday and I love doing it because a long time ago I decided that I need to abandon dry boring prayer times and just become expressive in prayer. The journal helps me because over time I have been able to communicate my deepest needs, my deepest joys and sorrows, my deepest requests, my heartfelt thanks, my most private confessions and my undying love in worship to God a little more expressively than just speaking out my prayers. I've been able to communicate things I would never say out loud in human company. I have learned that in these times reading scripture comes easy. For a long time I had to make myself do it, because I found it really hard. Yet now my life probably couldn't function without the word of God being always at hand.

On this day, a very beautiful day as it happens. The sun is pouring in through the windows, and outside the intense busyness of people and busses passing the window where I have set myself carries on. Yet inside there is a tangible calm throughout my little haven in the City. The leather chair I am sitting on is comfortable and familiar. I turned to my bible to see what God had in store for me. I was struck by a familiar scripture.


They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations. (Isaiah 61:4)

I was drawn to it.

Strangely drawn.
I read it for what must have been 14 or 15 times.

Places long devastated.

They will renew ruined Cities.

That have been devastated for generations.

My mind was immediately led to think of prayer. Feelings of sadness flooded my heart. I began to see how in my own life for a long time prayer was dry and something you were required to do if you were a Christian but it didn't seem to me to be particularly vibrant, and I had for a long time found it really hard to connect with God. I had found it a struggle to speak out my prayers when I was alone with God. I found myself seemingly saying the same things. I found it even more difficult to hear from God and if I was really honest? I didn't have a clue how to hear from him. That had changed over time, as I learned to write things down. I had learned to be quiet and wait for God to speak into my thoughts, I had learned the value of slowly reading scripture and accepting the fact that it was the living word of God, not just a study tool. This morning, when being quiet just sitting with a cappuccino in my hand waiting for God to speak, I began to see the church in my minds eye, and it was struggling to pray. I began to reflect and I thought how prayer had seemed to become a thing that the church knew it should do. I pictured the dry liturgical practices of prayer that had developed over centuries, I thought about the relegation to the back of the queue In terms of the practice of the presence of God that prayer had experienced, and I reflected on the apparent lack of knowledge on how to listen to God we Christians often experience. I also reflected on how that more often and not the choice to deal with things ourselves rather than trust God to answer prayer tended to hinder our effectiveness. As my thoughts meandered through these things, I found myself being led by the Spirit into a kind of vision.

I began to see prayer as a futuristic City, devastated and ruined.

A city long devastated.

Long Ruined.

A City lying in ruins devastated by generations of neglect and defection.
God led me to write down what I was seeing. I set my computer down on the low tables and over a number of days just wrote down what he showed me.

He took me by His Spirit to the City of Prayer.

Written in the following pages is what I saw.


THE CITY SQUARE

The sky hung still.

Dark grey swirling mist blanketed the vast blackness of the eternal abyss above. It lay fixed with lighter grey clouds moving slowly and mysteriously against the eerie black backdrop of the sky. Small swatches of translucent red, only a few in number, looking like they had been brushed in by a painter were enough to add a kind of deathly glint to the bleakness of a heavy dark sky.

On the ground the earth was parched and cracked.

Thick clods of hard mud formed by the unforgiving dark earth formed vast waste-grounds that covered large areas of the abandoned city.

Streets lay empty and barren and were strewn with the remains of human activity. Used Tin cans rolled across the ground making hollow tinny sounds as the wind caught hold of them. Papers long since discarded moved eerily across the ground as the gusts of wind caught their undersides and lifted them a few inches above ground level, sometimes sending them high into the air and on into oblivion. Abandoned homes and cars lined the empty streets. The glass from the windows lay cracked and in many places they were missing altogether. Front doors hung limply off their hinges, and roofs were showing gaps where tiles once protected homes from the elements. The occasional remains of grey roof tiles lay smashed on the paths that lay in the overgrown gardens that once so flourished with beauty. Cars lay rusting having long since taken their final journeys. City buildings once serving as busy workplaces lay in a state of utter dereliction, a shadow of their former majesty.

The silence was dark.

It was only interrupted by the sounds of the tin cans, bin lids and other moveable things getting caught up in the occasional gusts of wind that also rendered their own unnerving sounds.

The city lay in ruins.

The last of the people had left along time ago.

The city lay silent, dark and devastated.

This was once the City of Prayer.

I found myself standing in the main square in the absolute centre of the City. I leaned against the supporting pillars of a large billboard, it's former posters once smoothed onto them to advertise some event or other, now lay ripped and torn, their high quality paper hanging off in folds flapping in the gentle breeze that squeezed through the four foot gap that marked the opening of an alley way directly opposite to where I was standing. The emptiness of the City seemed to wrap it's long arms around me, and I felt loneliness like I had never experienced in my life before.

It was here God spoke to me.

I asked him where I was and why am I here?

His reply came quickly. "You are in the City of Prayer, a city long devastated by the generations. The city of prayer was once the world capital of communications with me, where people spoke with me freely, where people listened to me and acted on what I had to say to them, where there were no restrictions on what was said or heard. Where people wanted to be, everybody who knew me wanted to live here.
Now they are gone.

They have gone to live in the urban areas that make up the City of Self where they are free to direct their own lives and are able to communicate with themselves. Self is a City where self centred attitudes are freely accepted and people seem to be self sufficient. They can rule over their own lives and even other people if they so wish. Their futures are built on the foundation of self.

The Schools and colleges there have long since stopped even allowing my name to be mentioned. The businesses are run on the basis of self promotion. They even build churches in my name yet believe all to easily that they can plot their own futures, direct their own paths, and feel able to survive without my involvement. The churches seem to create structures that can make decisions based on self and have no need of me, because they feel they are so intelligent and clever. When the people of this City have needs, problems and desires, they feel that they are free deal with them themselves, in ways that are best suited to what they think they need.

The City of Self apparently holds more appeal than the City of Prayer.
"You asked me why you are here?"

I want this City, the City of Prayer, rebuilt.

There are many who are desperate to move back here to take up residency once again."
There are many who have had enough living in the City of Self.

They have had enough.

There are people who need to speak and listen to me every moment of their lives."
There are people who desperately miss my involvement in their lives and have a burning need to move back to the City of Prayer.
I have also brought you here to ask you a question."

"I have spoken in my eternal word to the world that, 'They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations."

"Who are 'they'? Are you in the they? Will you be a restorer of ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated? Will you help to renew the ruined City that has been devastated for generations?"

"I am talking specifically right now about the City you stand in, the City of Prayer will you go for me?"

God then took hold of my right hand, and said, 'come on, I will walk you through the City districts, I have much to show you'

In absolute awe I just followed him.


DISTRICT 1: THE DISTRICT OF INTERCESSION

The first place in the City that God led me to wasn't to far away from the City square. It was Just around the corner. As we approached it together I saw that it was marked with a sign. The battered sign was half hanging off it's bent posts. The posts were imbedded in a small piece of ground overgrown with weeds. Sharp shards of glass from a broken bottle lay amongst the dying foliage creating a dangerous glint from the ground that seemed to somehow warn that this district was a no-go area.

The sign read City of Prayer: District of Intercession.

The area was littered with devastation. Rows of houses, terraces, all connected to each other lined streets that were in poor condition. Their windows were tinned up. Services to the houses such as Gas, water, and electricity had been discontinued years ago. There were remnants of past habitation lying at various points along the filthy roads. Collapsed television aerials that had received their last signals years before lay still on the pavements. Old lengths of black cables lay in a jumbled mess on the road and on walls. The trees that were once vibrant green and alive now lay withered and lifeless making this dreadful picture all the more dreadful. We walked through these dark streets for what seemed like ages.
At the end of a street that still had it's name plate up, a street called Comfort Street, we took a right turn into a much larger thoroughfare that seemed to go on forever. On the far side of the street nestled amongst other buildings of various constructional shapes was a rather important looking building. It had a wrought iron fence surrounding it that at one time was painted black, but now dirt that had collected over years of neglect had obscured most of the former paintwork. The fence had seen grander times but at least every single railing was in place. This struck me as unusual because nothing else in this deserted City seemed to be in place.

God headed for the rather grandiose entrance gate set into the fully intact fence and walked on up to the building.

There he stopped.

I followed on up to where he stood and stood behind him.
"This is the Town Hall in the District of Intercession,the City of Prayer." God said these words a little despairingly.
"The government sat here and in many other buildings in this street. Decisions were made, people were helped, people were brought here by others to see me.
This was a place of governance. The government of prayer. Intercession is an important district. It's where people could bring everything they needed to be dealt with. The people who lived in this district brought many others to this place.

He spoke gently and I could sense a great deal of regret in his voice. He said, "This is the district where people used to pray for others.
It was a thriving district where business and pleasure boomed, where people put others before themselves always. People brought others to me and talked about them, asked me things about them and asked me to do things for them. All kinds of things. Heal them, restore them, surround them, defend them, all kinds of things. Sometimes they would bring their whole family before me, even Cities and Nations were brought before me. I really love to answer these prayers and great victories have been secured in the past when this district was flourishing. There were people whose very lives were changed because people in this district were praying for them. Yet, look at it now. Trashed, desolate and in ruins. Who will do this work now?
He turned and walked quickly away from the building. God was dripping with sadness.

Then God led me in a different direction.


DISTRICT 2: THE DISTRICT OF THE PROPHETIC

As he led me out of the district of Intercession I felt Gods pain.

This district was a place he obviously loved and I felt the pain of his disappointment.

God led me straight down a long but straight road eastwards and away from the district of Intercession.
This appeared to be a once important connecting street. The pavements and the road surface itself were long since trodden. Scrawly weeds poked through missing Tarmac and paving stone at every possible opportunity that presented itself. The trees that had once lined this regal looking thoroughfare were also withered and dead. They lay limp and sad so much so I actually felt sorry for them. Surprised that I could have any feeling for dead trees, I carried on walking with God.

After about a mile and a half we came to a wide fork in the road and we took the left hand fork and entered a really desperate looking area of the City of Prayer. It sprawled out before us a vast urban mess of concrete. Apartments stacked high in once neatly arranged tower blocks, probably about two hundred of them. The streets were thin and formed an expansive network of arteries and it wasn't hard to imagine this place being once crammed with activity. Not now though, only a deathly quiet and marked sense of heaviness remained here. There was no sign marking this district. I turned to God and asked him where we were?

"This is the District of the Prophetic."


God walked me into one of the narrow, oppressive streets, and I was really aware of the way the towering blocks of apartments seemed to close in me. I felt my breathing become a little shallow and I felt a knot build itself quickly in my abdomen causing me to grab a hold of my stomach and gently hold the area where the pain seemed to be gathering. I noticed that all the telegraph poles were either rotting or had fallen over altogether bringing down heavy black cabling with them. The cables that once transported information and messages to anywhere in the world were strewn across the pavements and even the roads in some places. It was obvious the lines of communication were down and had long since sent there last messages to anywhere. Satellite dishes were still in place on some buildings, although there were some which had also fallen from the walls they were once fixed to, and were rusting and useless.

God lovingly leaned over and began to explain a little about the place we were now in. "This was once a district that housed people called the prophetic. Those people that listened very closely to me and then went to the people to whom I sent them to, and gave them messages direct from me. This was a district famous for communications. People knew how to communicate the messages that I gave them and were never afraid to go to the most difficult areas in the world, to the most difficult situations and the most difficult people and share my message."

"Also these people took all kinds of messages to the whosoever. Messages of Joy, messages of warning, messages of encouragement, messages of hope."

"This district was a hub of communication and prayer. These people migrated to the City of Self years ago. They began to adhere to policies laid down by man and they sold themselves out to theologies that although seemingly so academic, were just really peoples opinions. They started to listen to man instead of me, so the prophetic was crushed. Guidelines were drawn by men fro the City of Self which almost eradicated the messages I send. Who will speak on my behalf now? Who will speak into the times, to the generations and to the Nations of the earth? I am calling the prophetic back to the City of Prayer to take up residency once again to rebuild this devastated district, to reconstruct the lines of communication with me and to be my voice throughout the earth. I am desperate for these people to return because I need them so much. I need them so much."

There was an urgency in the voice of God as he spoke about this, and Sensed his need.
We stood together for a long time. I waited for God to move.
Eventually we moved on.


DISTRICT 3: THE DISTRICT OF RELATIONSHIP

God turned and beckoned me with his right hand to follow him. We meandered through the tight network of streets in the district of the prophetic and eventually came to a large plaza, surrounded by tall buildings.

The buildings were massive in stature. Sky scrapers in fact. They lined all four sides of the square they stood big and majestic, they seemed to reach up to the skies with awesome grandeur. I could see Neon lights and signs that once glowed ultra-bright. Their fantastic colours made up of vibrant greens, reds, and blues will have at one time shone their unrivalled brilliance out into the plaza. They now hung broken, dull and dead.
A plastic bag flew gracefully through the empty square as the wind gently caught hold of it.
Vacant offices and workshops were everywhere. Abandoned cafes and coffee shops lay empty and lonely. It wasn't hard to imagine the life that was here in days gone by.

It felt kind of sad.

Right in the middle of the square, resting on top of a tall cylindrical brick tower, was a sign with the name of this district crafted in neon tubing standing high and mighty.

The sign read, City of Prayer District of Relationship.

This looked like it was once the main centre of this City.

A connecting place.

A vibrant place.

God began to speak.

He spoke reflectively and lovingly. His voice was calm and beautiful.

"This is the District of relationship where people once were in relationship with me through prayer and in relationship with one another through the power of prayer. Whenever they had joyful times or massive difficulties they brought it all to me. They loved to just sit and have a conversation with me, I really miss that. I also know this, that many of those people who once lived here miss it too, but just don't know it, or can't even remember the great conversations we would have. After we had those talks, people would connect with each other and find it easier to tell people who had never met me about my character and let them know who I am. Those relationships were the life blood of my Kingdom. I can never understand why people wouldn't want a relationship with me because I really love them they are my children. Many people hardened their hearts and stopped listening to me. They carried on talking to me for a while but it was a kind of one way conversation every time I spoke back to them they shut off. Eventually they got sick of just talking to me. It became a bit dull and they put it down to me not being around. But I was around! In fact I'm never not around! I'm always there! It was them, they just shut me out. They shut me out so much that they thought it best to leave the City of Prayer and go and carve out a new life in the City of Self where they could stop talking to me altogether and just be in relationship with themselves. They never got it that I didn't want them to follow a set way of living, I just wanted an authentic, honest, sincere relationship that would flow on into eternity. But they chose to leave."

DISTRICT 4: THE DISTRICT OF HEALING

With complete sadness we left the District of Relationship via a long straight street that flanked the river.

The river seemed to dissect the city into two halves and I could see that plenty of bridges crossed it. The river water was steel grey, dull and black, as no sun shone in the sky as we walked here. The river was almost still, the water did not seem to run freely. It seemed to stand still, stagnant and lifeless.

The remains of shipyards that once built magnificent vessels that sailed to the corners of the earth stood motionless and dark on the far side of the river. The now defunct cranes and buildings were erected around old decaying docks, long since vacated by any seaworthy vessel. Behind and beyond the old shipyards lay dark silhouettes of skyscrapers and tower blocks as the City sprawled out to the East in a seemingly never ending urban sprawl.

God led me slowly along this street, walking in front of me with his head bowed.

In my own thoughts I made an assumption that he was still reflecting on the last place we had been to, the District of relationship. It seemed to have saddened him and this sadness showed itself as God walked with his head bowed as if looking to the floor.

The misty cold air made it difficult to catch a proper breath and the cold was beginning to bite into my skin with ever increasing regularity. I wished that we were walking a little quicker. Eventually we came to the entrance of a massive iron bridge that spanned the river West to East. We turned onto the bridge, and I noticed that God seemed to be walking even more slowly than before.

Instead of wondering why he was so melancholy, I decided to ask him. His reply showed me that I was only partly right about his current mood. "I am walking slowly because I am almost reluctant to cross this bridge. On the other side of it is a District which it I find it really hard to visit, because it hurts me so much to remember former times. It is a District that reflects a gift I have given to the whole of humanity, one I have given to Christianity but many have rejected it."

I felt his hurt.

I Caught his heart in that moment and yes, it hurt.

As we crossed the bridge the deadness of the river below seemed to intensify. The blackness of the water seemed to deepen. The intensity of this journey seemed to increase a little.

We came to the end of the bridge and God stopped.

I was reluctant to speak to him because I could have sworn he was crying.

I took a few steps back and gave God a moment. Without even turning around, he gestured with his right hand to follow him.

We turned right at the end of the bridge and walked a short distance through a small straight street that turned left and eastwards to take us away from the river.

As we came to a narrowing in the street, God led me through a very thin alley way strewn with old bins, smashed bottles and an old mattress with it's springs coming through it's worn fabric. A horrible brown rain stain was visible on it's left flank and the stains shape reminded of a map of some country or another.

We came out of the alley way and into a long regal street.

The street was wide, flanked on either side with old grand mansion houses everyone of them had a brass plaque fixed to the wall just to the left of the front door.

At the end of the road, just visible in the distance, was a vast building, contemporary in construction and I could just make out the aluminium cladding on it's outer walling. It had been beautifully designed and had large glass windows that incredibly still had it's glass in situ. The car park was multi storey. It had as far as I could see 9 floors. And the building must have had around 12 floors.

It was a stunning complex.

The main aluminium clad building rose high towards the heavens. It almost seemed to be touched by Heaven itself. The various out buildings were many, probably about sixty in number. Yet even in the glory that emanated from this building, there seemed to be an emptiness.

I couldn't see a sign, so I asked God, "what District is this?"


God had regained his composure in the time it had taken to walk from the bridge to where we were now. His answer was short and to the point.

"This is the District of Healing."

He said this as if his mind was sifting through memories of things that had gone on in earlier times in this District.

As we walked up the street I couldn't help noticing the grandeur of the terraced mansions that interconnected along both sides of the street.

I was curious so I approached one of the houses, walked up to it's ten step frontage and approached the door. My eyes switched to the brass plaque to the left of the door. It read 'Centre of healing for broken hearts.' I was intrigued as I had never in my life heard of a specific place that dealt with broken hearts. As I walked on further it dawned on me that all the buildings were to do with physical, emotional or spiritual healing. Together, as we approached the end of the row of grand terraced houses, we both stopped for a second or two. We were just in line with the enormous construction that I had seen in the distance. But now, when close up, I could only marvel at the enormity and the beauty of it's futuristic majesty.

"What is this place?" I asked with a hint of awe in my voice.

"it's the City of Prayer's Centre for healing. It's a gift I have given to the whole of human race, but they have had difficulty in receiving it. They have decided it would be best to sort their physical, emotional and spiritual sicknesses themselves. Because of that they have gone to the City of Self where they can try to do that."

I began to sense why God was so reluctant to come to this place. His heart must have been aching. To give humanity the means that would allow us to be healed. How frustrating it must be for him to see people reject it in favour of the City of Self.

As I was reflecting I heard God saying quietly over and over again, "By his stripes they were healed. By his stripes they were healed." the full impact of what he was saying came searing into my heart like a dagger striking fast and hard. God had sent his only son into the world, and his son had endured severe beatings and torments before being strung up and nailed to a wooden cross and then physically died, yet amazingly he arose again three days later so that all of mankind would have the opportunity to live with him forever.

And by enduring this terrible atrocity he duly paid for this gift of healing.

By his stripes we were healed.

The shock of the price paid hit me hard.

I just wanted to grab a hold of God and ask forgiveness because even I had turned my back on his gift of healing so many times.

So much of the world needs some kind of healing, yet so many turn to the City of self.

The thing about the massive building that stretched it's shiny boundaries skywards in regal splendour was that it was still obviously operational. All that it needed was people to minister in it and people to come to it. It was still available.

What love, what care God has for his people.

Breathtaking.

"My church who I need to minister this healing are so preoccupied with arguing about this district, whether it exists, whether it is a reality, whether people can be healed by me, far too often it feels that the City of Self is the better option and pack up their things and move there." His voice trembled as he spoke. It trembled so much I felt the ground move and saw the whole building shake as the voice of a saviour echoed around the empty streets.

"Who is left to bring people to me? Who will pray for all kinds of healing over all kinds of wounds? Where are my people? Why do they agonise over this? Why do they create academic sciences out of this? I have spoken over the whole world that By my stripes your healing is secure? "

As he spoke, the words had power.

Power to move me to tears as my own brokeness appeared before me.

I wanted to be healed, I wanted to be saved from Self.

The City of Self right at that moment was the last place I ever wanted to be.

I fell to the ground before God, and he turned towards me. Up until now he had just seemed so human yet spiritual. Now as he faced me I saw the majesty in his being, shining like the brightest starlight imaginable.

And he touched me.
And my life melted inside. I felt God touching the wounds that had been left by years of turmoil and abuse by others and just as he touched me, everything changed.

I saw a new path ahead.

I saw a new way of living.

I saw hope.

And I knew that I had to live in this City, the City of prayer.

I almost didn't want to go on I wanted to stay in his touch for ever. But God began to walk toward some gates that were at the end of the grand street and I knew he wanted to show me more.

So I followed on.

DISTRICT 5: THE DISTRICT OF CONFESSION

The gates were big old ornamental gates. A kind of greenish glaze had attached itself on to the rusting metalwork that was obviously very beautiful, and had been crafted expertly by people who knew their trade.

As we went through the gates it became clear that we didn't have to walk very far to the next district. The sign was immediately present, hanging from a kind of elaborately built arch that followed immediately after the gate and was fixed by two hanging chains, so that it hung directly from the centre of the arch, directly above your head, so you couldn't really miss it.

It read welcome to the District of Confession.

Directly through the arch there was a choice of roads. Five different roads lay ahead the second of which God took.

I followed him feeling much lighter after my experience in the District of Healing. Yet feeling strangely drawn to this new District, the District of Confession. The road we walked down was very dark mainly because the buildings on either side were tall and connected creating a kind of wall either side that blocked out the light. As we approached the end of the street I could see that all five roads suddenly converged into one main street that became wide and seemed to be a main thoroughfare. Immediately to our right as we entered that street I saw another massive building.

It was a large red brick super structure.

It covered acres of land and had car parks all around it.

The car parks were covered in litter, blown there by a billion winds. In the middle of the vast building that actually looked like a large Metropolis on it's own, stood a massive entrance which consisted of at least twenty once-automatic doors. Some of the doors were open, other doors were closed. These doors had at sometime or another had their glass panels shattered. Above the entrance way, written in massive black and red lettering you could make out the words Shopping Centre, although one of the Ps was missing from the word shopping.

God turned towards the once fantastic and complex building and headed for the entrance.

I followed him and couldn't help feeling excited about what he would show me next.

Inside we walked past a row of cash machines that lined the inner entrance. They were lined up neatly and were set into the wall on the right. You could just about make out the names of the Banks that they had represented in days well since gone. We then had to step through the broken glass of the inner doors, and when we had carefully made it through came into a vast hall. An amazing sight greeted us. The hall was five floors high. Shopping balconies stacked up on either side of the hall. Each balcony held literally hundreds of shop units, now dark and derelict. The ground floor on which we stood stretched out before us and was littered with the remains of plants that had died years ago, old metallic chairs and tables lay motionless and in no particular order, some on their sides, some on their backs, others upright.
In the middle of the hall I could see that there was a large escalator network that cut an elaborate pattern upwards, weaving in and out of the balconies leaving an impressive silver display.

The one thing I noticed more than any other was the silence.

It was surreal, even impressive.

Total silence.

Not a sound.

No sounds had been heard in this place for a very long time.

God led me onwards. As he walked ahead of me, he began to speak. Without even turning around to speak he just asked me a question. "Are you up for climbing the escalator to the very top?" Following my experience in the District of Healing I was ready for anything so I just answered him with a simple "yes."

We stepped on to the ingenious invention that is the escalator, and ventured upwards to the first floor level. As We entered the first balcony I could see that there had once been a vast array of shops and cafes. The thought crossed my mind that this must at one time thronged with people and buzzing with life. A place that people must have flocked to to shop, relax, and take refreshment.

It was an amazing place.

Even more amazing to see it empty. I couldn't help wondering why God was leading me to the top floor? We proceeded onwards and stepped on to the first floor escalator and walked upwards and onwards towards the second tier. We reached the top after about a ten minute upward slog that actually got harder and harder as we ascended toward our destination.

Both of us, God and me, stood on the top tier that was pretty much like every other tier so far. Interconnected shopfronts of various sizes were closed down and empty. The only thing different up here was that at the far west end of the upper tier it kind of fanned out into a large plaza lined with food hatches and former restaurant units. This was once a food court. And if you looked beyond that another half size escalator led you upwards to a cinema block, it's sign boasting a twenty screen cinema with double seats and fantastic views. This must have been an amazing experience for those who had watched movies here. Even the City of Prayer provided a bit of R&R for it's people! To the right of the food court on a billboard that I have to say is probably the biggest billboard I have ever seen, was a picture of a solitary woman walking carrying multiple shopping bags and seeming a little weighed down.
God leaned on the safety rail of the upper balcony and just looked across at this incredible picture on the billboard.

"This is what I want to show you" he said in a determined tone of voice.

I sidled up next to God and leaned on the rail. We must have looked like a couple of old guys chewing the fat on a lazy afternoon at the shopping mall, putting the world to rights while their wives were merrily shopping. But there was no-one around to capture the sight. God began to pick up the pace of his conversation.

"So many of my children are weighed down with all kinds of worldly baggage. And this picture so reminds me of what used to take place right here in the District of confession." he said these words with the same level of determination I had sensed in his voice a few minutes earlier. "I wanted to bring you here so you can get a kind of picture of what I am wanting the world to understand. So many of my people who I love so much carry unconfessed junk inside of their lives. The trouble with carrying unconfessed junk is that it piles up and the more you take on board, the more your life gets weighed down. Eventually people have so much baggage they can't hardly move. But they just decide to live with it."

God shifted further along the rail. He seemed to reflect even harder on the picture of the woman with the bags.

I shifted too.

"This District once flourished with the prayers of confession that people brought to me. The thing is, as people spoke out these prayers they felt close enough to me to talk to me about anything, no matter what. They could confess sins, and their mishaps and mistakes and all kinds of things. There is a saying that says, 'confession is good for the soul,' and those who say it are so right. I remember a guy confessing to me some very serious misdemeanours that he had committed. And he desperately needed to right this wrong. As he spoke to me I saw the heaviness just dissolve in front of my eyes. It was like he was laying down heavy baggage that had slowed him down for years. I saw rest descend on his life as he gave me his baggage. Prayer of confession has almost disappeared in Christian circles. Or worse become dry and religious. So the thing is people carried their baggage over to the City of Self because they thought they could lay it down more easily there. Now I see they have picked up even more baggage and they can hardly move."

God then went over to a four seated bench fixed to the floor in the middle of the aisle that ran around the upper balcony.

I followed him and sat down beside him. I was drawn to his determination as he spoke about this.

I knew he was right.

As we sat God continued to speak, his beautiful shining eyes fixed on the poster.

"Confession is good for the soul!" he continued. "There are things people can say to me that they couldn't say to anyone else, yet they choose to deal with it themselves. Even if they choose to confess their stuff to another person, so often they forget to confess to me. Confession is a bondage breaker.

It releases the spirit I have placed within a person.

It lightens the loads people carry.

Why people choose to carry such heaviness around is beyond me.
And my heart bleeds for them. I long for them to come back to me, to confess their sins. I am waiting with my arms open. And believe me nothing anyone tells me will shock me. And no-one is so weighed down that I can't retrieve their very lives from these burdens that they carry.

I long for them to return to the City of Prayer.

Where are they?

Where are they?"

I thought to myself that I could almost feel Gods heart right at this moment. I felt his need to minister to the world he created and began to see even more clearly than ever before in lifetime that God had created simple ways in which to come to him.
I think it was here in this empty wrecked shopping centre, that I longed to live in the City of Prayer myself.

I longed to be there.

Right at this point I could not see myself living anywhere else because I was loving Gods company.

I longed to stay in his company too.

God arose from his seat and we started to descend the dead escalators. We eventually climbed back through the broken inner main doors. We walked past the defunct cash tills and out into the car park that fronted the building.

DISTRICT 6: THE DISTRICT OF THANKSGIVING

The sky seemed to be changing.

The glints of red that infused the dark sky seemed so much more vibrant right now. The sun was beginning to shine through the clouds casting super rays of light onto specific areas of the City.

The darkness seemed to be lifting.

The reds seemed to match up perfectly with the gold of the sun. Deep translucent reds laced an increasingly beautiful red-gold sky over the City of Prayer.

My walk though this ruined City was taking it's toll on me.

I needed a rest.

I casually asked God if it would be Okay to sit for a while.

He replied so gracefully, "let's walk over to the next place I want to show you, we can rest there maybe for an hour or so."

So we walked away from the shopping centre through a small thin street that had a small incline upwards. It didn't seem to help my tired limbs. But I carried on following God.
We walked past an old bus station. Inside its forecourt, rows of red busses that were once busy taking people here and there to various districts in the City of Prayer were parked in long straight lines. They were rusting and had been out of action for a very long time. The ticket office had not printed a ticket to anywhere for such a long time. I thought to myself how amazing it is that at one time you could get to any of the districts in the City of Prayer easily and quickly from here.

It was a cheery thought.

Suddenly I was overcome with a need.

A need to see every part of this amazing place.

But I really did need to sit down a while.

We cut across the bus station coach park, stepped over a small ten inch marking wall and I followed God along a beautiful street called Thank You street.

This beautiful street had ornate whitewashed houses on either side of it that had obviously been well looked after in times gone by. Because even in their emptiness they retained a certain beauty.

Even within their overgrown gardens flowers still grew in vibrant colours. Reds, greens, yellows and purples flourished in them. Amongst the beauty, weeds intermingled trying to strangle the life out of the vibrancy but it wasn't really working.
Thank you Street almost seemed occupied, still inhabited.

But it wasn't.

Walking along Thank You Street made me feel alive. Made me feel good about myself and the world.

The most amazing thing I saw on this street was God.

I caught a glimpse of his face.

It was beaming like a laser. His smile could have melted a chunk of iron. His whole being seemed to shine like the brightest sun in the brightest Heaven.

I melted into his presence easily and readily.

We came to the end of Thank you Street and came to an entrance to a fantastic looking park. It was a big park full of green trees, wide open grassed areas and a large lake.

God said "I have been itching to bring you here. Welcome to Thank You Park in the District of Thanksgiving."

I had the same feeling as I had when walking up Thank You Street. One of feeling I wasn't alone in a place of emptiness.

God sat on the grass.

I just automatically sat on the grass next to him.
He spoke in a calm unflustered tone."Lets rest here and take in the atmosphere."
I noticed now that the dark sky had just disappeared and the sun now shone with stunning brightness and the sky kind of glowed in stunning deep blue.
I lay back, placing my hands behind my head. God did likewise.

There we lay.

I felt strength coming into my limbs as they started to reenergise.

We just lay quietly for what seemed like hours.

I suddenly felt an urge to just say thank you to God for what he had showed me and what he had done for me.
I turned my head ever so slightly toward him and just spoke my words which seemed to come from my heart and not my head.
"Thank you so much God. I love being with you so much."
The reply came back softly yet you could tell a great deal of pleasure had just landed on him.
"your so welcome."
God even chuckled to himself after he had said this.
"You know. This is what used to happen all the time in this district. People felt the need to thank me." it's not just the actual thank you that people say. It is the fact that they want to thank me. They recognise that I have played a major part in their everyday lives, and from their hearts they want to recognise that. Most of all they recognise that I am real and true. That's what I love about thanksgiving."
He rested back and gave a pleasurable sigh.
"it's a two way thing too. So I want to say to you thank you for coming with me. I really Ike to thank my children for following me."
This surprised and even startled me somewhat.
I had always thought of thanksgiving as a kind of religious prayer. One that was required and must be said.
I had never understood it in it's simplicity.
I definitely had never let God thank me. I had thought far too often I guess that God was way to big and way to distant to engage with me.
Yet here in the District of Thanksgiving, I saw God differently.
Here he was just relaxing with me. Wanting to be involved with me enjoying being with me as much as I was enjoying being with him, and for the first time in my life I understood that saying thank you to God was such a life-giving encounter.
It was a two way street.
It was a vital part of the relationship I would always have with him. And I was pleasantly surprised how easy it was to do. It wasn't a dry religious prayer of thanksgiving because some person somewhere says it is important.
It came from the heart, and from the essence of relationship.
God turned to me and began to speak again. This time with a hint of sadness in his voice.
"I long for people to return to the district of thanksgiving. There are so many people living in the City of Self who have no-one to thank or no-one to thank them. They have cut off the life giving flow of a two way relationship. If they do say thank you to me it's usually dry and often liturgical, even clinical, but it's from the head and not the heart and it makes me so sad.
If only people would return to this district. I need to be thanked because it reassures me that a person still belongs to me.
Then God rested back, stopped talking and seemed to day dream a bit.
I dreamed too.

I awoke to the sweet song of a lark.

It's song so sweet, so perfect in tone.
I could have sworn I heard it sing the words 'thank you God.'
The air was fresh. The sun shone. It felt so good to be with God.
Gods eyes opened a little later.
"Enjoy this time because where we are going next will require strength. It will require concentration and strength of character."

About half an hour later God stood and walked on.

DISTRICT 7: THE DISTRICT OF WARFARE

I followed God through the park.

I noticed as we reached a gate on the far side of the park that the sun had been blocked out by blackish looking rain clouds.
The gloom of the earlier part of the day seemed to have begun to return, only this time with a far greater intensity.

God led the way.

We left the park behind and turned onto a desolate looming thoroughfare.

The road here was wide. It was an old highway called defenders way. There was nothing either side but stretches of wasteland. Barren, dry and dirty.

The silence here had no rest in it. It seemed full of a kind of an electric apprehension. It was a dramatic change in atmosphere to what we had just experienced in the District of thanksgiving. After a short while walking along this road we came to a blockage in the road.
Someone at some time in this City's history had erected a road block out of large brown boulders that were seemingly immovable. We dodged in and out of the boulders that were ten rows deep and came out the other side.
We walked on, onwards down this straight highway through barren lands like I had never seen before.
I was nervous.

God was strong.

And I felt his strength as he walked with authority and boldness. I had not seen God like this on my journey so far.

He had invincibility in his step

We were almost marching towards our next destination.

A two man Army.

God and me.

I couldn't help thinking that marching with God felt like we were a ten thousand strong Army.

God turned to me, and his gaze was purposeful and formidable. His face looked like steel. His eyes burned like fire.

I felt overwhelmed by safety.

Seeing God like that, being so close, gave me a feeling of invincibility yet at the same time I felt so humble and so small. I just somehow knew I was walking with the ultimate warrior. I had a strange but good feeling of security and felt in my heart I had maximum protection if anything were to try to attack me.

We marched on.

God and me.

In the distance as we advanced forward, I could make out the outline of large compound. As we approached I saw that this compound must have been about two miles square. It was guarded by a ringed wall about 25 foot high. As we got near I could see that I was getting the first glimpse of one of the mightiest fortresses I had ever seen. I could only see it's outer walls but was struck by it's enormity. Written on an iron board fixed above the giant entrance, which almost sucked you in yet made you think twice about entering, was the name of this place.

THE FORTRESS OF PRESENCE: DISTRICT OF WARFARE: CITY OF PRAYER

Without even looking up God marched straight on across a kind of draw bridge which was down across a dry but deep ditch that was probably once a moat, straight on through the entrance that must of been about twenty foot high leaving about five foot of thick wall above it. The fortress as I approached was built out of highly polished steel and it's walls were reflecting flashes of light almost like swords being drawn and withdrawn direct from the walls.

I followed God across the draw bridge and through the gate.
The first thing I noticed was that the walls were about fifteen foot thick. And being steel were absolutely impenetrable. Inside was another interior defence wall, still steel but about 15 feet high and six feet thick. We marched on through an entrance set in the centre of this interior wall and I noticed the ornate surround was decorated with precious stones. Diamonds, onyx, rubies, garnets so highly polished they almost blinded you if you glimpsed them for too long. Above the door jutting out of the entrance was a carving fixed to the wall, carved from pure granite it depicted Jesus with a drawn sword. The sword was pure Gold and glistened over the entrance like the bright morning sun.

As we entered the main compound I just knew nothing or no enemy could touch me here.

This was no ordinary fortress.

This was a place where total safety was assured.

No enemy, no matter how strong could touch you here.

In the centre of the main compound, which was surrounded by well protected living areas, stood something that I could only stand in awe of.

It was a cross.

Just an ordinary cross made from cypress wood. Craggy and limp.

Almost out of place in these immense surroundings.

Yet it's power could not be denied.

I just fell to my knees.

I fell into it's shadow which had been cast on the ground due to the drawing in of the evening light.

In that shadow God spoke.

"I guess you are wondering why this pathetic wooden symbol is standing in the midst of a place like this?"

I couldn't reply because was gripped by the shadow of the cross.

"This old wooden cross serves as an everlasting reminder of a great victory. One that has been won and can never be overturned. When my son died, he died so that hope could live forever. That terrible day, he defeated the most powerful of enemies, who still stalks the earth. Who is still at large, yet is defeated. But he is still trying to fight back, but can never win. Yet millions of my people are susceptible to his fury. This fortress represents my presence. It represents my protection." Just then sullenness returned to his tone. "Many people in the City of Prayer once fought this enemy from this place, the District of Warfare. Yet way too many have sought refuge in the City of Self. In that City there is no protection. And this enemy loves to prowl around the City of Self looking for lives to attack."
God instructed me to stand up. And he walked forward to the back of the inner compound. He took me to a doorway marked 'Armoury.'
We went in and I found myself standing in a room that was so vast it was impossible to see the end of it. Shelves a thousand high held thousands of shields, helmets, shoes, breastplates, belts and swords.

"This is my armoury. Everything in this room is available for anyone who is engaged in the battle against this enemy. These are the weapons that I provide for every soldier of mine. This is my provision for my children. Yet so many do not believe this room is here they have heard about it, yet have struggled to find it. This battle against this enemy is the war of wars. It is not a physical battle but a spiritual battle. Yet the fortress of my presence is deserted.
Who will fight for me?

Who will go into this spiritual battle for me?

Who will fight for the lives of my children everywhere?

There are people who have gone to live in the City of Self who think they can fight this battle alone.

Many don't even believe they are in a battle.

There are even those who claim to know me who pointblank refuse to believe this spiritual enemy and his organised army are a reality.

I speak to the world right now when I say this.
THIS IS REAL.
Yet the fortress of my Presence is here.

Available.

I long for the day when my people return to the district of warfare. They have had so much stolen from them yet don't even see it.
The enemy has stolen from them, plundered their lives.
They don't even see it.
Yet I offer the ultimate protection and platform from which to fight from.
Right here in the fortress of my presence."

Then God turned around and summoned with his hands to the skies and the air and the fortress became filled with an Army of angels.

You could not count them they seemed infinite.

They appeared only for a moment. But God had given me a glimpse of spiritual Armies at his disposal.

Awe filled my heart.

Again I fell to my knees in worship to this mighty King.

And I knew for sure.

No enemy could ever touch me in this place.
The fortress of presence, in the District of Warfare. City of Prayer.

I walked back from the Armoury to the old wooden cross. It's shadow filled the ground.

And I knew.

This was the ground of victory.

This great victory had been won for me and the whole of mankind.
I felt Gods hand on my shoulder and my skin burned beautifully, sending a warmth that felt like Holy warm liquid spreading throughout my body.
"This shadow extends to wherever you set foot. You are never out of the shadow of the cross. Stay in the fortress of my presence. Rise son, take this fortress with you wherever you go."

"I promise you nothing will harm you."

Outwardly I could sense a change in my life after seeing and being in the fortress of presence. Inwardly things had taken on a different order too. Inwardly, I figured out that by understanding that as a Christian I was engaged in a battle, a spiritual battle, and that In God's presence I was was walking in victory, gave me a sense of security. It gave me an identity and helped me to make sense of my life in a totally different way. Outwardly I could feel a new strength surround me. A strength that could ultimately make me more effective in my everyday Christian living. More effective for the kingdom of God.

The victorious Kingdom.
As I contemplated I suddenly realised God had began to walk back towards the City Centre.

So I followed. I had to run a bit to catch up.

DISTRICT 8: MISSION CENTRAL SUBWAY

We walked across the wastelands that surrounded the Fortress of Presence. In the near distance the skyline of the City of Prayer was visible.

The sky hung red-gold as evening fell.

The skyline painted a fabulous sketch of building outlines, as if drawn by a sketch artist who could achieve perfection.

The City of Prayer felt like perfection.

As we neared the square where we had started from we took a left turn and headed away from it. A little further along the road next to a large cylindrical looking tower block stood the entrance to a large underground subway station. This seemed to have been at one time a main rail link to a network of subways that took people around the City and beyond to the uttermost parts of the earth.

A large red and white sign bore it's name.

Mission Central Subway.

We descended down the steps into a large space that housed former ticket offices, guards rooms and other kiosks that once sold newspapers and the like. All around the outside of this large space were entrances each with a none working escalator spilling out from it to take you down into the bowels of the earth where a series of platforms were situated. To these platforms trains once busied themselves ready to take people from the City of Prayer to the uttermost parts of the earth.

God headed for the fourth entrance and we proceeded to walk down the escalator.

As we arrived on platform 4 I became aware that I was stiflingly hot.

Our footsteps echoed with each step, the sounds seeming to bounce back off the shaped walls of the skilfully crafted tunnel that ran through to the platform.

The platform itself was filthy. Dust and dirt stuck to walls making the whole place look drab and dismal. Old newspapers, plastic bags and tin cans littered the track below the platform.

As we stood together God and I on platform 4, I experienced a weird expectation. It felt almost as if a train would appear out of the tunnels mouth at any time. Although the reality was that deadly silence crammed the hot air. My mind was pushing the noise of a train forward, almost willing it to come.

But the train never came.

We sat on one of the moulded plastic seats that were cut into the walls beside the platform.

God seemed in a reflective mood.

His hand held is chin and his eyes stared straight forwards, and his lips were shut and pursed.

It was a while before he spoke.

When he did his voice started slow and quiet.

He spoke in almost a whisper.

"One of the saddest things about the devastation in this City is that the trains stopped running a long time ago."
The sadness in his words was a powerful sadness. It touched me like shots of electricity connecting with my heart.
"The trains have stopped running."

God said this again, this time closing his eyes and shaking his head ever so slightly.

He then reached up and wiped away a tear from his cheek. He took a deep breath and continued.

"This is mission Central. People used to take my good news everywhere from here. Once they had spent time in the City of Prayer they would then head here and spread their experiences of me and reach a broken world with my love knowing that I was in their hearts. But the trains stopped running a long time ago."

He paused for what seemed like ten minutes but was probably just a few seconds.
"Since people moved to the City of Self this station has been empty. They became so wrapped up in self that they just stopped thinking of others. So they stopped coming to Mission Central Subway. I long for these platforms to be filled with people taking my message to every corner of the earth. I long for these platforms to be filled with people wanting to help others and touch broken lives with my love. I long for these platforms to be filled with people who are desperate to go anywhere for me, to sit with the lost, to eat with the unloved, to bathe the unwashed, to care for the wounds of people who are hurting so badly. After being in the City of Prayer, people were so inspired to go into the world with me that they would just do it."

"But the trains have stopped running."

My heart was being touched.

It felt as though a light had come on in my heart. So much so that I had to glance at my chest to see if it had actually lit up! Even though I had only seen ruins as God had led me around the City of Prayer, this place had inspired me.

I realised why my mind had pushed for a train to come to the platform.

It was because sitting here in the presence of God it had fuelled a desire to go. To go to the uttermost parts of the earth. To go to wherever God wanted me. But most of all to go to the broken.

I realised that I had work to do.

I suddenly found myself desperate for a train to come.

I looked up.

God was leaving the platform and starting back up the escalator that fed it.

I followed.

DISTRICT 9: THE HILL OF DECISION

On the way back up to street level. God turned to me his face radiant, lovely, expectant, and he spoke.

"I have one more place to show you."

I followed him out on to the street, daylight had now returned, and I realised that we must have been in the Subway station overnight. We headed south, through a deserted market place, past a series of broken down workshops until we came out onto another wide street that led out of the City. At the end of the street we came to some fantastically beautiful country side that stretched for miles. Immediately on the right there towering upwards was a hill. A hill with a winding path that led to the very top. We took the path and about an hour later reached the summit of the hill. From this place you could see for miles. In the distance far across plains and fields lay another City. It's skyline impressive and alluring. It seemed bigger and better than the City of Prayer. And even in it's distant skyline you could see that this was no deserted City. It was full of life and vibrancy.

It's pull was strong. It seemed to want to drawn you towards it.

I asked God, 'what City is that'?

"That my friend, is the City of Self." God replied gently.

We both sat down on the ground on the top of the hill and looked out towards the City of Self. The desire to stay in the City of Prayer had been so strong over the last few hours.
But glimpsing the City of Self gave me a small pang of confusion.

God, looking straight ahead said, "This hill is a most crucial place. It's called the Hill of Decision. It's a place of choice, a place where loyalties and pathways are decided upon."

His voice became extremely authoritative, "I leave it to the world to decide, I created it that way. But you cannot stay on the hill of Decision. I have brought you here to decide to make your choice. You must make one."

I took in the words and processed them slowly in my mind.

Then from nowhere came a strangely warm feeling. It came in the form of a growing realisation.

I had been indecisive in my own life for so long about many things, and it was nice to know a decision was to be made. It was even a big relief.

But decide what?

God already knew what I was thinking.

"You have a straight choice right now on the Hill of decision. Will you come and live in the City of Prayer or will you go to the City of Self?

Different thoughts clamoured to get into my head the quickest. A kind of game. Who can get to his heart the fastest?
Thoughts like, 'do you want to live in a ruined City? Do you really see yourself totally relying on God for the rest of your existence? Don't you want to be free to make your own decisions?

Then another thought muscled in on the other thoughts that were fighting for pride of place in my head.

'live in the shadow of the cross."

There it was.

All the feelings, experiences and revelation of the last hours I had spent in Gods presence could be summed up on that one reality.

Living close to the cross.

My decision came easily.

I longed to be in the presence of God and be in relationship with him forever.

And I realised I could only do that by living in the City of Prayer.

I made my decision there and then.

I decided to turn my gaze from the City of Self and keep my eyes fixed on God through his son Jesus Christ.
I turned to do just that.

God in his physical form that I had spent time with over the last hours was no longer there.

But I now just felt his presence.

So powerful, so strong.

I stood and walked down the path from The Hill of decision.

I headed back towards the City of Prayer.

Decision made.

I wanted to make this my home.

And there was no going back.

POST SCRIPT

As I looked out of the window onto the street of the coffee shop in City.

I just sat and watched the thousands of people coming and going. Busy shopping, working, sight seeing, and relaxing. Going about their business with a determination in their eye and a spring in their step.

I had just finished on my computer and was reeling a bit from the spiritual journey God had just taken me on.

Revelation tires you.

It had been some journey.

But I knew for me at least the journey was not over in fact it had started years ago.
They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated; they will renew the ruined cities that have been devastated for generations. (Isaiah 61:4)

Rebuilding and renewing?

I knew right then and there that I had work to do. God had made it perfectly clear to me that prayer was a city in ruins! He also made it clear that the emptiness of the City I had just seen through Spirit led eyes, meant that in future times it could get a lot worse.
They will rebuild and renew.
This leaves a question.

Are you part of the they?

Have you been living in the City of self?

I know I have been there many times and am very familiar with it's ways.

Today I have moved into the City of Prayer to be part of the they.

To rebuild to renew.

To work hard to communicate with a God who I have seen is on my level. Not some distant entity that we are required to talk to out of duty. But a loving incredible friend who also happens to be awesome, majestic and the ultimate power in this world and the next.

That's the thing!

I realised even just how amazing God is and have to ask myself now the question, who wouldn't want a friend like that?

Who wouldn't want to engage with a friend like that?

So will it be you?

Will you be a rebuilder and a renewer of the Ruined City of Prayer?
Will you go heir and receive all God has for you there?

He has a spiritual backpack waiting for you in the City of Prayer that contains everything you could possibly need for this life and the the amazing heavenly life promised for those who love him.

God needs everyone who has migrated to the City of Self to return.

So then, What will it be?


EPILOGUE: A BATTLE FOR SUPREMACY

As a Christian there are days or weeks when you really question why do I do this stuff?  

I have been through a little period like this over the last month or so.

The amazing thing is something really fantastic has come out of this rubbish.

Recently I have finally come to really understand that I am totally free in Christ Jesus and that no matter what rubbish Satan throws at me, usually through other people, if I fix my eyes on Jesus, live in the shadow of the cross, then you can get through anything.
Voices in my thoughts have been saying things like this; "There are people who want to wreck your ministry so you might as well walk away from it."

" Aren’t you sick of being treated like this? Why bother, go and enjoy your life you don’t have to put up with this. You don't need Jesus"

Of course the source of these voices that speak these things into our minds comes from the enemy himself, which is how he speaks, into your mind and specifically into your thoughts.

He is desperate for us to defect to the City of Self!

It’s amazing how we can believe these things and if we are really not careful start to act upon them.

Yet we have so much trouble understanding when we hear God’s voice, especially through his word. So much difficulty that we throw it about in our heads. Wrestle with it until it inevitably diminishes down to nothing. And Bang! It's gone.

I read this verse. Listen to God speak.

"Moses answered the people “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." (Exodus 14: 13-14)

I read this verse just while in the middle of a difficult situation in my own ministry. A situation where I felt like giving up and turning my back on it forever. Yet what an amazing truth to believe. You be firm, stand still, the Lord will fight for you.

The Lord will fight for you!
This resonates so much with the vision I have been privileged to witness. The vision of the Fortress of Presence. Walking in the victory of God's presence.

This is a truth direct from God himself, but far too often in the past I have tended to let the voices in my thoughts win. And so I would do something really stupid like go in with all guns blazing and attempt to sort the situation out myself, usually with hurtful aftermath for both me and others. It's so easy to migrate to the City of Self.
God really spoke into my life this week and said something really simple in the form of a question. "Why do you believe all that other stuff in your head such as you might as well give up etc? Why do you find it difficult to just believe that what I say is true?"

It struck me that this is a battle for supremacy.

A battle for our minds.

Who is going to reign supreme over your life?

It’s a battle for supremacy between satan and God, a battle which God has already won through Jesus Christ.

It will always be a matter of choice.

The Hill of decision is a very significant place.

To experience the freedom that Jesus has won for us we have to choose to believe what God says to us, through us and about us is true.

And I think for the first time since becoming a Christian I have moved from walking in defeat to experiencing the victorious walk that Jesus meant for us to experience.

And I feel and truthfully know that I am free.

I was able to take all those fruitless, negative thoughts captive and not believe them.
I chose to stay calm and believe that God is fighting that battle for me.

In Joshua 5: 13-15, the scripture describes an encounter between a man standing with a drawn sword in his hand and Joshua who was about to lead the Israelites into battle for the city of Jericho. Joshua wasn’t sure about this man; he asks the question, “Are you for us or for our enemies?” “Neither,” he replied, “but as commander of the Lords Army I have now come.” Joshua then dramatically recognises who this is, this is God (some scholars argue that this was the pre-incarnate Christ) and he falls to the ground in reverence. Joshua then puts himself totally into the Lords hands by asking the Lord “what do you want say to me Lord? The Lord says to Joshua, “Take off your sandals, for the place you are standing is Holy. And Joshua totally submits when the scripture says, “And Joshua did so.”
This thought hit me when reading this scripture, and then reading on in the proceeding chapters which describe how Joshua and his Army conquered Jericho. The thought I think is a profound one for our lives.

“The conquering of Jericho was the aftermath of God conquering Joshua.”

I'll say it again. The conquering of Jericho was the aftermath of God conquering Jericho.

For Joshua it was a battle for supremacy.

Are you going to win the upcoming battles in your own life with your own strength or are you going to recognise that what God says is true.

That is what Joshua was challenged with by God.

He chose to walk in victory not defeat, but he had to recognise his need for God first.

When I allowed God to conquer me, I was able to conquer the voices in my thoughts that want to convince you that Self is the only way.
I choose to believe that the things that God says about me are true. In scripture he says I am forgiven (Col 1: 14) I am not condemned (Romans 8: 1-2) I am totally loved (Romans 8: 39-39). He also says a whole lot more right through scripture, the question is do we believe it? Really believe it, or will we choose to listen to the untruths that flood our thoughts?

I really pray you will find true freedom as you choose to believe the truth.

Maybe you have been challenged to go the City of Prayer.

Space

Today I have been to Holy Island to do some more research on St Aidan who is the subject of my last assignment before my dissertation on my MA Mission Course specializing in Celtic Christianity. Holy island is an amazing place, with a rich Christian heritage and a fantastic history in general.

To me it is a thin place.

A place where I can connect with God easily.

A place of extreme peace.

But not today.

It was a really pleasant sunny day today all though the wind has been strong. The sky over Lindisfarne was crystal blue. The sun cast an amazing sheen on the rolling sea showing up the most fabulous greens and blues in the sea broken up by bright white wave crests. It was just a fantastic sight.

But sunny days bring visitors.

Hundreds and hundreds of visitors.

The Island was packed.

I was here to get a sense of what Aidan must have sensed and seen. I have to write an essay entitled does Aidan's missions say anything to the Church's mission today? And following an intense period of a month of research and reading, Ive almost lived with Aidan this last couple of months! So I just wanted to come to Holy Island where Aidan was sent to Northumbria in 635 at the request of King Oswald to work towards winning Oswald's kingdom for Christ. Here on Holy Island, Aidan planted and founded the first monastery. This monastery became a mission hotbed where people were trained to reach others and were sent to people who had never heard of Jesus.

And here I was in this incredible place just ready to get some peace and to see what I could find.

But today there was no peace.

I thought it was best to find a quiet space and pray first before I ventured out around the Island. So I headed for the parish Church of St Mary right next to the amazing ruins of the 15th Century Benedictine monastery probably built on the site of Aidan's earlier wooden monastery.

There was no-one in the Church. So I sat in a wooden pew right at the back and just started to pray.
After five minutes, the door swung open and a coach load of elderly people came in to sightsee! Banging doors, laughing out loud, licking ice creams and causing other innocent mischief.

My peace was shattered!

And it wouldn't be the first time that day.

I left the Church, blessing these guys as I went! I headed for the monastery and began to walk the ruins. The place was packed and everywhere you went there were groups of people.

Every shop, every coffee shop, every street was full of people.

It quickly became apparent that there was going to be little peace this day.

But that was OK.

I decided to walk out to Lindisfarne Castle, an almost fairytale looking castle out at the far tip of the Island. On that walk I looked out to the sea and I saw the Inner Farne. The inner Farne is an island out a few miles off Holy Island. For Aidan, far enough away to be alone with God, something which he longed for.
David Adam describes the island in his amazing book ‘Flame in My Heart.

“It would seem that the nearest of the islands was the largest and most likely to sustain a tough way of living, but Oswald had his doubts. It was said that the Island was inhabited by demons, small dark beings who put fear into any who had ventured there. Aidan saw this as a challenge, and at the same time a witness to God. He would go there and be alone. He needed a place where he could truly have no-one to speak to but God. A place where he could be still and know that he was enfolded with love.

As I looked over to the lonely looking jagged Island in the distance. I kind of understood. I had only been on the Island a few hours and needed just a bit of solitude, a bit of quiet space. Just to speak to no-one but God, and to be still and know that I was enfolded with his love.

It's interesting that Aidan chose a place that was said to be covered in evil.
It showed how connected to God he really was. He knew he was walking in victory and nothing of the enemy could harm him.

That displays that there is hope.

It also occurred to me how much we all need a personal inner Farne. A place where we can go to be alone with God. I think without it the mission field will be a difficult place for us to operate in.

No matter how busy we are, no matter how big our responsibilities, no matter what pressures pile on to us every day. We need that uninterrupted space with God.

So where is your personal inner Farne?

Do you have one?

Maybe you should sort it out?
Now?