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.