Taking stock (reviewing your relationship)

You know it's amazing how we shop has changed over the last decade or so. Online amenities have seen to that.

I was looking for a new watch the other day.

So I was reading through the reviews of the particular watch that I was searching for.

They read something like this.

"I purchased this watch last year. I wanted it to go swimming, and being a businessman I travel the world so wanted a watch that read world time across the various time zones. I wanted a watch that was functional in the every day but looked good in the business meeting. I've got to say this watch has not let me down. Water proof to 200 meters, and has endless futuristic functions that keep me on time wherever I am. A brilliant time piece!"

Reviews!

Reviews on the Internet have become a seemingly normal way of life for many. They can be benchmark information that actually lead us towards clinching the right deal for us.

I know what you are thinking, Gary does think of some weird stuff!

But thinking about this the other day lead me down another path.

I've wrote a lot lately about some tough times I've been experiencing, times that I'm pleased to say that at last we seem to be coming out of right now. And after reading these reviews on the Internet, I felt really strongly in my mind a question drop in.

Gary, what if you were to review your relationship with Jesus so far? From the day You met him right up until now?

What would the review look like?

What would it read like?

What would it say?

Would it help someone who was looking to maybe clinch a deal?

So I just opened my notebook, gripped my pen and just wrote.

Here's what I wrote.

I do love you God. You've been there through the tough times. You've helped me to change my character if I look back, I'm not the same type of Gary as when I first met you that's for sure. The best thing is if I really look is that you have harnessed my nature which naturally is to love others and see them Okay, but you've shaped it so the compassion is shown where as before I'd keep it hidden. You've given me a hope and a reason to live that just wasn't there before. I was just kind of groping at life in the dark and it wasn't getting me anywhere. You've given me an eternal hope but also an abundance of real life while I'm here. I can testify that you have saved me from evil. Sometimes, like recently, even at the eleventh hour! You have honestly rescued me from so many situations. You only know where I was heading before I met you. The amazing thing is there is never a time when you are not there. I can speak to you anytime and have long dropped the religious pretence in our conversations and I am so grateful you want me just to be me with you. I love our late night conversations they help me to keep focussed. When my focus is drawn away from you (and sadly that's quite a bit sometimes) and I try to make it on my own, or I decide to do something that's not in line with your will, I'm astonished that you just patiently wait with open arms for me to come running back to you. I really don't like it when you discipline me but have never known a time where that rebuke has not put me back on track with you. You have given me gifts I wouldn't have believed. You have put your words in my mouth to take to the world, and because of that I've been to places and people that I would never have dreamed of. Even in the times I have thought you were nowhere to be seen, you've showed up somehow. You've showed up through the most unlikely people and the most unlikely places. Your provision if I look back has been truly breathtaking. You've managed to sustain me practically, physically, emotionally and spiritually through both the joyous times and the ridiculously hard times. Your love has sometimes put the biggest of smiles on my face and has literally brought me to tears. I actually couldn't live without you, without our relationship. No way. I love you, words can't do you justice really. But I say that I long for the world to know you, because it would never be the same again.

In terms of what Jesus means to me that's not much of a review.

But from my heart I could write a million words and it still wouldn't express how much my relationship with God has changed me, has saved me even.

For those reading this today.

It might be a good time to review your own relationship with God.

It may be that you haven't even got one going on. Maybe it's a good time to start one!

Maybe you've let go of God a little or a lot.

Maybe you just need to go deeper.

Never the less.

Maybe spend some time writing down your review and see where you are right now?

Blessings.

Battles

Lying in bed my thoughts were racing.

Things flashed in and out of my minds eye and came in no particular order or no particular shape. My body was screaming out for sleep but sleep wasn't coming that night.

I just could not settle.

Life had been so hectic in the preceding days and I was sick of the busyness, of the noise, of the constant combined pressures of life and work. The build up of pressure had finally filled my life to the point of exploding. I clambered out of the warmth of the bed trying not to wake my deeply sleeping wife. I slipped on my black toweling dressing gown and crept down stairs. I flipped the light switch in the kitchen, and headed straight for the kettle and turned it on. Once I had made a fresh cup of tea I went into the lounge and sat on the red sofa. I opened the curtain and gazed out at the darkness of the night interrupted by the yellow glow of the street lights.

The street was still.

The peace began to somehow transfer in and settle in me.

I took a sip of my tea, straight, black and hot.

The extreme heaviness of the life I'd been leading seemed to lift slightly. I had an overwhelming desire to read scripture. So I flipped the on button on my HTC one and pressed the bible app. The verse of the day filled the HD screen.

In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:6)

My mind turned its attention to the week I've just had.

I've known recently how much the spiritual battle is not a concept but actually real. Dawn and I have had a battle for our ministry and that's been probably one of the hardest battles I've had to fight. But it's sitting amongst other people's battles that has put some extra weight on our shoulders. I am so privileged to do that. I sat for the most part yesterday with a young guy who was desperately fighting withdrawal from drugs. He was aggressive, abusive and almost uncontrollable. Later that afternoon we sat with a girl who is facing losing her baby to adoption because of the life she finds herself in and felt almost helpless as the tears ran down her face for close on an hour. A few of our homeless guys had got hold of a large quantity of alcohol from somewhere and were already drunk before going off to drink more. Another guy wanted to tell me he was going away for six months to start rehab to try and kick his drug habit.

Battles.

That's just a fractional glimpse of the battles we sit amongst daily. And I guess many reading this can relate to that.

Paul says, for our struggle is not against flesh and blood but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. (Ephesians 6: 12)

Struggle, battle, war, whatever.
We are in it.

But the amazing truth of the matter is that its a battle won.

At the cross.

A battle where every human being can draw the victory into our own lives.

A victory that changes everything.

If.

In all our ways we acknowledge him. Then he will make our paths straight.

For every battle I have or experience from others or indeed fight on behalf of others I see the shining face of victory.

After a while I fell asleep and awoke the next day on the couch.

Then today at work, I felt the need to write.

Even as I write this a guy just came in and interrupted me. This guy is a troubled man. In and out of homelessness, severely locked into alcoholism, prone to fighting and has seen the inside of both police and prison cells frequently.

He comes to Sanctuary 21 every day, including our Sunday morning gathering.

Last Sunday it was my turn to speak and I spoke on forgiveness. This guy had asked if he could read a poem he had wrote in the service. He stood shaking from the DTs and read out his poem.

It was incredibly moving.

But back to this morning he came in and interrupted me.

Excitedly.

He said that Sundays service had changed something in him. He had understood that forgiveness was the key to freedom. And he asked me to pray with him. And I have to say I felt something lift from him. It's not always like that but something did change.

The first glint of the victorious Christ in his life?

Time and time again I see rescue Spirit of Jesus saving lives, changing lives, redeeming situations.

The battle is raging in the heavenlies. That's a certainty. The thing is are we going to just let the battle lay heavily on us? Or are we going to stand in the battle in the light of victory?

So the spirit of God says this day, rise up and face the battle. Stand in the midst of it and acknowledge me in all your ways. Take a hold of my right hand and I will guide you through the battles you are facing. Allow my victory to transfer its power into your life. Don't lose sleep over the intensity of the fight, rest in the knowledge that I am victorious. You cannot lose if you cling to me, don't run away from the battle, don't turn your back. Stay and fight. Allow my Spirit to connect you to the victory. Ask me for the strength and confidence that you require to be strong in the battle. Stand. Stay close to me and you will negotiate the dangers because I have already negotiated them. The way to victory is a straight path in my realm. Bless you this day. My favour on your life is assured because I absolutely love you and cherish you. You are my child, my treasure, my everything. So stand child. Rise from wherever you are and join me in winning this world to my kingdom. I adore you.

Stay Strong

I've just been having a long look at my wedding ring.

I don't look at it that often. It looks as new now as it did when Dawn slipped it on my finger. It's made out of one of the hardest and strongest metals known to man.

Tungsten.

Tungsten was discovered by Torbern Bergman in 1781. It is a hard, rare metal. It's kind of dark silver blue colour and its gorgeous when polished. It is so tough it's often used in military applications for warfare.

It's super tough metal.

It doesn't lose it's shape, it is highly durable, and will not break.

As I gazed at it this morning my thoughts quickly switched to how tough times have been lately. But more than that how pleased I am that I have so far come through it, and that I am surprised how strong I have become inside. I haven't lost my spiritual shape, my relationship with God really is durable, and my Spirit just hasn't been broken. That is a long way that I have come from the old Gary to the Gary of right now.

And.

There is one reason.

Jesus.

Jesus is my steel.

My relationship with him is solid and has served to make my resolve solid.

I'm shocked how much Jesus has changed my character.

Someone gave Dawn and I a scripture the other day that has further strengthened our resolve. Acts 18: 9-10 says One night The Lord spoke to Paul in a vision. "Do not be afraid, keep on speaking, do not be silent. For I am with you, and no one is going to attack and harm you. Because I have many people in this city."

It's hard when times are tough to keep on speaking, and we so often allow our missional heart to be silent, or allow our Christian living to become silent in the sense of actually becoming inactive.

God says keep on speaking, do not be silent.

That needs steel.

That needs resolve.

The only chance we have of that kind of steel that helps us to resist whatever the world will fire at us is to be in an active, living relationship with Jesus.

This is just me I've been talking about, in the middle of a barrage of heavy artillery from things not of God, I'm still standing.

And I feel the Spirit of God say this today to the whosoever. Stay strong. Strong as Tungsten. Do not allow to change your shape or damage your durability or break you in terms of your relationship with God. Stand. Stand up for truth, for your actions, for your very life. Stand up for the truth of Jesus. For the church, God is a steel rod. An I breakable force that will endure forever. Nothing will ever in times past, times present and the age to come break the resolve of the saviour of this world. God always wins. Do not stop speaking of Him, do not be silent. Do not be immobilized, just don't allow it.

Stand.

Stay strong, even in the weakest moments get our heads into scripture and pray, at all costs. Stay close to God.

He is our steel.

Our strength.

Forgiveness

What a week.

Yesterday I watched the funeral of Margaret Thatcher and all the events surrounding it on Sky News.

I don't want to be political in this post.

Not at all.

She was like Marmite in political terms many loved her, many hated her.

But.

Yesterday if you peel away the layer of the political debate raging as the country reflects on her term of office in government, you see a sad picture.

You can see the work of a silent, dark, destroyer.

I can definitely sympathize and understand the frustration being expressed by many yesterday, but the way some of that frustration was expressed was just abysmal and shockingly bad. But out of all those chronic images, one picture really saddened me yesterday on the news. It was an image of a father holding his baby up to the camera. The baby was wearing a T shirt with "Ding dong the witch is dead" written on it, What on earth have we become? Think about that in human terms, a baby? an innocent child being used to express someones bitterness. The amount of so called political and union leaders and many others openly saying "we will never forgive" Margaret Thatcher for what her policies did to many communities. I can understand the hurt and the pain, I grew up in a family of generations of miners and do understand their anger.

But the bitter effects left by unforgiveness reared it's ugly head in some of those shameful images yesterday.

Anger, bitterness and pain are the constant side effects of the bitter pill of unforgiveness.

They are silent killers.

They destroy a person from within.

Eat people up until we feel like a mess of nothingness.

You could see it plainly yesterday.

They can destroy communities and even Nations.

They have history.

Big history.

I've been away for a few days. I went to my brothers house for a meal a few nights ago. As we sat and ate together my eye caught a glimpse of a small picture in a small silver metal frame on the sideboard in the dining room.

It was a picture of my father.

I hadn't seen his face for a few years.

As I looked at his face, I felt a kind of band of emotions fly through my body with a quickness that went as soon as it came.

I've shared in my early blogs how the relationship I had with my dad was not good. And that's an understatement. A series of truly unspeakable events that no son should have to go through served to leave me hating him to the point a large part of my life was tainted by a bitterness that held me back in life to another point where I felt like I was a worthless piece of dirt. It affected my life so badly. As I looked at the photo my mind went back to the bedroom scenario I have spoke about before, where I sat alone with my dying father lying in bed opposite me. He was in the last series of breaths he would ever take. I remember saying the words "I forgive you dad, I love you."

Then as I looked at his picture, these few years after that day. I feel blessed by the release.

In that simple statement I made at his bedside that day, the silent killers of bitterness, pain and anger had no answer to that. They had to go. I feel blessed because I am stronger, and have a new peace about that in my heart.

As I watched the TV yesterday.

It had me reflecting how peaceful the world would be if people really understood the power of forgiveness.

That's why I think it was the key element of the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

It will always be the key to the banishment of the silent killers that seek to destroy, maim and kill.

Always.

And just as unforgiveness has big history, forgiveness has a history! An eternal history!

So a challenge today.

Is there unforgiveness knocking about in your life?

The lie of unforgiveness is this that we would believe that "we could never" forgive this or that!

The truth of forgiveness is yes we can.

Is it time we forgave that person? That incident? That issue? That hurt?

Is something eating you up from the inside. Do you feel immobilized and stagnant? Do you feel angry and bitter and resentful, revengeful, hateful or just plain mad?

Are you tired of it?

Do you long for peace?

Then just reflect today on this bold statement. Forgiveness is the key.

Forgiveness brings restoration, brings the hope back, brings the life back to us. Forgiveness is in its biggest form the key to world peace. So imagine in our situations how effective it could be in releasing us back to a wonderful life, a life in all its fullness?

It can restore nations.

It can restore communities.

It can be the key to rebuilding your life.

I know this post about forgiveness this morning is written simply, probably a bit too simply! And I know it's a really tough subject for any of us to get our heads around. And I know when forgiveness is talked about or read about or preached about, it can drag up all kinds of feelings inside of us that can cause anything from the penny dropping to instant rage, but never the less its still truth.

As hard as it is, the only way to kill the silent killers the dark destroyers of bitterness that only seek to hurt us is to forgive.

How we forgive is another thing I know. And I can't offer a lucid discourse on that this morning. All I know is as I sat by my dying father, I just spoke out the words.

And I've never looked back.

I really do pray that this post is the catalyst to bring freedom to somebody today.

Blessings.

Time to recharge?

This week I took the opportunity to take a break.

In the middle of the furious action of life, I just needed a few days off.

And it's amazing really even what a few days can do to revitalise your body, mind and soul.

We've done the rounds of visiting family, in fact right now I am writing from Liverpool where I am staying with family for a few days.

Only a few days ago, I felt tired, frustrated, and kind of blank really. I wasn't operating how I should, the smallest of things would make my blood boil, the slightest wrong word would garner a reaction from me. I couldn't think. Then last Sunday I got up to speak at Church and I went onto a kind of auto pilot mode and went through the motions really.

I knew then I needed to stop.

To recharge.

To replenish my energy levels.

So I cancelled all my appointments that were in the diary, some of which I'd been looking forward to for ages, but it had to be done. We got in the car and drove away from the world of officership for a few days.

And it has worked.

I've had only a small break but as I say even the smallest of breaks can do wonders. My energy levels are up. My mind is in a more stable place, and I feel ready to deal with the battles ahead more lucidly. Also my inner strength in terms of spiritually is way more energised.

I guess this sounds like a bit of a random post, but I try to only write what I feel God wants me to send out there to maybe help someone.

So I encourage you if your tired and a bit burnt out, then whatever you have in the diary, whatever is going on in your life, stop.

Get away from it all for a few days.

Take responsibility for the inside of you.

Psalm 118: 14 says look to the Lord and His strength. Seek his face always.

It's difficult to do that in the eye of the storms of life.

I know.

But it's the truth.

So maybe for someone reading this simple post today, it's time to step aside and seek the face of The Lord. Shift aside the clutter of your life and make room for a kind of spiritual, mental and physical replenishment.

Be brave, just do it.

It'll work wonders believe me.

Also on an important note. To all those affected by the tragedy at the Boston Marathon yesterday, I send my heartfelt prayers and thoughts to you. I know I have readers from that amazing city and throughout the USA. I pray Gods arms of comfort around you at this time. Blessings.

Storms can't last forever

There is a river.

It runs by the side of a medieval monastic ruin.

It flows fast, silvery and relentlessly through wooded land that glows green-gold in all weathers.

The banks of the river have been a thin place for me. While I've been living in the North East of England, I've spent hours here.

Today.

Dawn and I stood on an old wooden bridge and stared fixedly on the fast flow of the water. We took in the breathtaking scene, somehow enhanced by the ruins of the monastery in the background.

But.

The most powerful thing was the quiet.

It would have been total silence had the river been still. But the clinking sounds of the water flow added to the peace.

It was a moment.

A moment of peace. A moment of peace in a far from peaceful time of our lives.

We breathed it in.

It helped us to think and to listen to God.

I couldn't hear his voice.

So.

He showed me some stuff.

We have some big decisions to make. Massive ones in fact. We have experienced some storms in our life but not many like this one were in right now.

Talking about storms, my eye caught a glimpse of something that kind of spoiled the scene around the river. There was lots of litter strewn across the low lying bracken and bushes that flanked both edges of the water. The litter and debris stretched for as far as the eye could see. I spotted an old shopping trolley, mangled and rusty, an old red blanket stained with green gunk of some kind. Old shards of broken brick and pottery made for a thick carpet on the flatter sides of the river.

Then I remembered.

We've had some serious storms over the last few months. This river had flooded on numerous occasions. I could see where the water levels had risen above the banks. As they had receded it left debris everywhere washed down from who knows where.

I took in the scene.

Beautiful.

But.

The storm had left its debris.

But now the scene was calm. The river was flowing normally.

Quiet.

Total peace.

I had a sense of the fact that storms don't last forever.

They do come.

O yeah.

They come and you can't control them.

But you can wait them out.

I'm in the eye of a storm just now.

And I can't see its end just yet.

But looking at this river tonight the green banks turning red gold in the dusk. The clear water moving gracefully forwards. The peace, the quiet, the silence. I know for sure this storm will be over someday soon. It may leave a bit of debris in my life. But that can be cleaned up.

We were glad of this peaceful moment today.

God reminded me of this.

Storms can't last forever.

Today whatever the storm?

It will end.

Altar

I sat alone today for what seemed like forever.

I've felt a bit desolate lately.

Some really daft stuff has been happening which has served to make me feel like I should give up on my officership.

Dawn and I feel so tired and in need of a break. But we just can't get one. We have to keep S21 moving. We have three months left before we move to London. There is so much to wrap up work wise and home wise.

I wonder whether its all worth it sometimes.

As I sat alone trying to quiet my troubled mind, Richard, a guy who was homeless when I first met him on the streets, who we have seen come on so much since we found him a small bedsit, came and sat opposite me. We sat without speaking for about five minutes. All day I'd been wrestling with whether we are any use as Salvation Army officers at all. Richard seemed to sense something wasn't right. So he broke into the silence with his deep gentle voice. "I enjoyed it on Sunday" he said. "It was the best time I've had for years."

On Easter Sunday at 7.15am I ventured across the City to pick Richard up from his little bedsit which nestles amongst an isolated strip of bedsits owned by a City homeless charity. Not much of a home, but a palace to Richard. I'd told him in the week that he needed to be sober to come to church on Sunday, so asked him to moderate his vodka and cider intake on Saturday night. As he stepped into the car, he was stone cold sober, he'd shaved, and he had a leather jacket on over a smart shirt. He looked great. He told me he'd been to a charity shop to get some smart clothes for Sunday. He came to our Easter service which was preceded by a cooked breakfast. I marveled at the intensity of love shown to him by so many people. He loved it. He said the preacher went on a bit! But he loved it.

Here he was sitting opposite me.

I told him how glad I was that he had enjoyed it.

Then he said, "I'll miss you and Dawn when you go to London. You've done such a lot for me. Everyone in this place has."

Then he said something that made me shift myself a little out of the hapless thoughts I was allowing to spin round in my head like a whirlpool.

"There will be loads of people like me in London just waiting to be helped, they are lucky to be getting you and Dawn."

Just exactly what I needed to hear right then.

In the mess of life sometimes a man can lose sight of the purpose of his work, of his mission, of his existence. And I think I've been losing mine lately. I may not be the most fantastic minister the world has ever seen, but I do have a purpose. I love being with the less fortunate, those with the most need, I could spend the rest of my life just standing in the midst of them, standing with them and standing up for them.

It's funny because on my way to work today, I happened on this scripture. And I didn't take much notice this morning, but I revisited it after talking to Richard.

Then God said to Jacob, “Go up to Bethel and settle there, and build an altar there to God, who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau.” So Jacob said to his household and to all who were with him, “Get rid of the foreign gods you have with you, and purify yourselves and change your clothes. Then come, let us go up to Bethel, where I will build an altar to God, who answered me in the day of my distress and who has been with me wherever I have gone.” So they gave Jacob all the foreign gods they had and the rings in their ears, and Jacob buried them under the oak at Shechem. Then they set out, and the terror of God fell on the towns all around them so that no one pursued them. Jacob and all the people with him came to Luz (that is, Bethel) in the land of Canaan. There he built an altar, and he called the place El Bethel, because it was there that God revealed himself to him when he was fleeing from his brother. (Genesis 35: 1-7)

Just when I think maybe the Salvation Army would better off without us, I felt God speak to me through this word. I feel like fleeing. Fleeing feels like a good option at the moment from stuff going on around us that we can't control. But I was taken with what God said to Jacob. "Go up to Bethel and build an altar there to God." I really felt that in Richard's kind encouragement. "There will be loads of people like me in London just waiting to be helped."

Maybe that's our altar.

The altar Dawn and I need to build to God.

An altar where the needy can be changed.

An altar that involves us, our bodies, our minds, our very souls.

Then as we were leaving today, the last thing that happened in S21 before we closed the door was that one of our regulars was arrested at the door of the building. As I watched him disappear into the awaiting police car in the street, handcuffed to a police officer, I felt in my Spirit that we have a Bethel, a place to set our altar.

A purpose.

A good enough reason to be a Salvation Army Officer.

Silver table (Face to face with mission)

The silver top of the table shone with a reflection from the sun.

Literally the first glimpse of sun in Durham this year.

My coffee this morning was espresso, black, straight, no sugar.

I placed the mug that held the steaming black liquid on the shining metal table top. I placed the aluminum chair I was sitting on close to the radiator which was now reaching the maximum heat that would eventually, hopefully, fill the upper room of Sanctuary 21 with much needed warmth.

Despite the clear blue skies and rich golden sunbeams, it was still very cold.

In from the cold walked a guy.

A guy I know really well.

Homeless, hungry, angry.

His young face cut an expression of measureless hurts. His head was pointing down to the floor, his shoulders hunched into a protective retreat, making his neck almost invisible. His skin was pallor, a faint layer of sweat slicked his forehead. His unwashed clothes hung badly on his thin frame. They looked almost two sizes too big.

He looked kind of morphed, like dejection had come to life as a man.

He was angry because someone had taken his sleeping bag, from where he had stashed it in a city back alley where it was usually safe.

But someone had taken it.

He had spent the night without a sleeping bag.

He was dejected, demoralized and angry.

He got a hot drink and pulled up a chair at my table.

We talked.

His tales of street life came rapidly from his soft dejected voice like a fast torrent of pain.

He was down. Down on his luck, down on himself, down on life.

And the there is me.

I'd got up this morning and come to work on this sun drenched morning feeling good about life. My strength is up, my focus is as straight as my black coffee. I'd been sitting at this shiny metal table for an hour, replying to emails, getting my business straight before walking into the messes of people's lives and trying to help.

I'd already prayed on route to work and was ready.

Ready for anything.

Despite some setbacks in the last few months, this morning I'm glad to be alive, glad to be a minister.

Life is good.

Two guys.

Two incredibly different worlds.

Face to face over a round metal table.

I feel like I'm a citizen of the kingdom of God.

The guy opposite me feels like he has no home. Probably because he literally doesn't.

Yet he does. We are his home just now. We are his family. God is always his father. Citizenship of the kingdom is attainable for him.

As we talk a faint glow of redness begins to color his cheeks as the warmth of the radiator kicks in. I manage to talk him Into a reduction of his anger, and he visibly softens and quietens down. The warmth of his hot coffee also serves this situation well. I sort him out a sleeping bag. For tonight. He has declined numerous offers of help to get him housed, even a bed for the night, it's frustrating. And he's burnt his bridges with all of the local homeless hostels though his own often criminal behavior. But. He makes this choice. And I can't persuade him to get help.

So here we are.

Two different lives on the same planet.

In the same city.

On the same morning.

There seems to me to be a disconnection between us. Thats what it feels like. A bit like a bridge that has collapsed between two high mountains.

I've spoken to this guy about a different world, the kingdom of God, where things will be vastly different for him. Many times, he always listens, but always has an answer why that's not for him. He can't see that there is a bridge, a way, a path to this kingdom.

Mission is hard.

It's not always the glamorous jet-printed words on a nice compact mission plan. It's not always the ideas birthed in a cool conference in some functional conference centre. It's not always the blatant shaping of churches that think they are successful and the latest model of church. It's not the high level of anointing the world renowned evangelists are sometimes portrayed as having. It's not the clever church planting mandates written so eloquently by the experts. It's not determined by uniform, hoodie, suit jeans, tracky bottoms, shiny shoes or well worn trainers, or any other attire for that matter. It's not always about which translation of the bible over-theologically challenged people seem to think should be used in churches.

Yeah.

Mission is not glamorous.

So I sit face to face with the reality of mission.

Over a shiny table.

A guy, dejected, needy, broken. Fretting about a very immediate problem. Wether he will be warm or not tonight in a shop doorway somewhere.

I deal with his pressing need. Right here and now. Get him a sleeping bag.

Then I pray for him, pray for his even more pressing need, to know the savior, to know that there is another world, a kingdom, where a new perspective can be found.

Right now that's all I can do.

I wish I could write on my blog that as I prayed he fell to his knees and accepted Jesus as savior and he stood up ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven. Drama that takes your breath away, then everybody clapped and we danced on the tables at the wonder of it all.

But it didn't happen that way today.

Yet I feel a peace penetrating my frustration.

And I think it's because the small things, the supply of a sleeping bag for instance, somehow brings the kingdom closer to this guy, the fact that we are here for this guy, who has been rejected by society, written off by many, scorned by many too. As I reflect this morning I wonder how many? How many of these people? How many millions are despised, rejected, written off? Marginalized? I guess I'll never know the answer to that, but I do know the answer to that situation, and I have to commit my life deeper to pointing them to the kingdom.

There are so many.

No elaborate mission plan can really help them?

I don't think anyway.

Only the simple things.

The small kindnesses, the openness of our hearts, the willingness of our bodies, the availability of our love, the quickness of our mission-minds to deal with the pressing needs of the whosoever.

Yeah those things I guess are the stuff of mission.

I think Booth had it spot on when he kind of said that "You can't give a man the gospel on an empty stomach."

I think we are giving a man the gospel, even as the food is being prepared and served!

It's about the openness, the love, the purpose.

This guy has just gone.

I'm sitting at the table. Alone once again.

He has his new sleeping bag in an old black bin liner.

Calmer, warmer, and ready for his day, whatever that may be. I dread to think.

But my resolve is strengthened through this simple encounter.

To keep myself open to the whosoever. To whatever crosses my path.

I pray today that same resolve will always be carried to the mission field by us, the church.

That we will always be ready to do the small things as well as the big things.

A relentless flow of unconditional love that will bring people closer to the kingdom.