Cry from the street

Saying goodbye has a zillion emotions attached to it.

And.

Goodbye?

Brings closure.

Goodbye?

Brings futuristic opportunity.

This week I have to say goodbye to lots of people.  

I'm not good at goodbyes!

The very last week of our five year adventure in the North East of England is about to begin. 

Next Sunday, a big door closes.

A week or so after that,  another big door opens. 

A door which opens as we start with a 287 mile drive to our new home in London.

To a new chapter

To a new slice of vision. 

On the same mission.

I sat in Church this morning, just watching.

Albert's there.

20 years sleeping on the streets of Durham. Ragged, dirty, hungry. He gives me the thumbs up. A nicotine stained, dirt-caked thumb. The fact that he's even at church sends a current of emotion straight through my body. 

Richard stands while some songs are being sung. He has a pile of toast that one of our volunteers has lovingly made for him. He never sings a word. But comes without fail every day, even Sundays.  

There are loads of others. 

I thank God for giving me the honour of sitting at the banquet table with the deeply needy. 

It's changed me.

Forever. 

Because I've encountered Jesus truly.

Steven gets up and says he wants to say a few words.

Steven is a deeply troubled homeless alcoholic. He has been dabbling in dark stuff that has seen his life spiral away from him. He walks the precipice of death daily. He's 30.  He comes to S21 every day. I've sat for hours with him over the last few years reasoning with him, sometimes holding him upright. Sometimes sitting while his tears have spilt relentlessly onto our carpet. Abandoned by his family, abandoned in many ways by society.  Desperate to be free of his addiction. We've fed him, clothed him, prayed with him, prayed for him, befriended him. Loved him with the love of a saviour. 

He doesn't say much.

But this morning he took the microphone.

This is what he said.

"I'm going to miss Dawn and Gary so much. I just want to say thank you to them. They are my family now. This place has saved my life. People like me would have nowhere. Thank you."

He set the mic down on the table. 

He sat back down and looked downwards towards the floor. 

I had to speak.

Needless to say it was a struggle for me to get the words out. 

"My family."

Those two words leapt into my spirit.

My family. 

There are so many people who could do with a family. 

And that's us. 

Church. 

The Salvation Army are doing a vital piece of research and are taking a serious look at ourselves in the UK under the title of Fit for mission. 

A good thing. I think it will be blessed. 

Are we fit for mission?

Depends I guess on many things.

I guess there maybe a deeper question, it may even being dealt with I'm not sure. 

It is this. 

Are we fit for acceptance?

Are we totally ready to be accepting of everyone?

Yeah.

Everyone?

Are we ready in our mission to welcome the marginalized, the dirty, the disheveled, the desperately lost?

Are we willing to lay everything down to allow everyone to sit at the banqueting table with us who claim to follow Jesus. 

Can we give up our criteria for who fits in or not?

Are we ready to step into the dark worlds of people far from justice and rescue them with a courage that will sustain us in our daring attempts to save people from unholiness?

That's what I would do to save my wife and daughters if they were in trouble. 

That's what God is doing in the forever.  

That's what families should be about. 

Bravery

Acceptance. 

Love. 

Compassion.

Are we fit for acceptance?

We'd better be.

Because the lost are coming. 

They are coming our way. 

They will be coming to us in search of a family. 

In search of open arms. 

In search of help. 

In desperate hope of rescue. 

Steven has shared with me he has been turned away from some churches. I won't go into details. 

Lord bless those people with a change of heart please. 

Steven needs a family. A community. A Saviour. 

Millions are in the same boat. I've been in the same boat. 

They are coming to a church near you.

Right now. 

Are we fit for acceptance?

I pray we forever will be. 

 

Unimaginable love

It's my wedding anniversary today. 

I temporarily forgot.

But I managed to redeem myself quickly!

But today I've been married for fifteen years.

It's been the most earth shatteringly brilliant fifteen years.  

Life changing in fact. 

Dawn and I have journeyed through a whole range of life events from the darkest moments to the richest of moments. 

Ups and downs.

Mostly ups. 

Dawns been there for me in my darkest hours. 

I don't think I could love her any more than I do.

She is simply astonishing. 

I know I've drove her mad sometimes! I know she's probably wanted to scream at me occasionally! But she loves me no matter what. She tells me that every day. 

Thinking about it this morning, love has won the day in our marriage. It's sustained us through thick and thin. The day we got married, we overheard someone at the reception saying to a friend, "I give them six months." 

Well, here we are fifteen years later. 

Stronger.

More in love.

Inseparable.

I relate it today to my relationship with God. 

Through the highs and lows of our life-trek, whatever happens, wherever we are, however we live, whatever we do, God loves us anyway. He sticks with us. We cannot get away from his love. 

His love is life. 

His love is a certainty.

We can choose not to recognize His love if we want, but that will never change how God feels about us. 

Never. 

Both Dawn and I have invested everything into our friendship and our marriage. The key has been love. Intense love. 

I can't wait for the next fifteen years.  

Yet.

Gods love is stronger than even that. 

His love is of an intensity that we will never fathom until we see him face to face. 

And I believe today there is someone reading this who simply needs to be reminded that God totally and utterly loves you. No matter what you've done, whatever you feel right now.   

And.

Whatever anyone else thinks.

The truth is. 

God loves you. 

You cannot escape from that. 

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8: 38-39)

Fifteen years of being married to the most amazing woman I've known has taught me about love. 

And.

Because of that I've glimpsed the unimaginable love that God has for every single person that ever lived. 

That unimaginable love will sustain us through the whatever's of life both on Earth and in Heaven. 

Blessings. 

Prayer for a better me

I want to be better than I am now.

In every way.

I've come so far in the last fifteen years. 

I'm hardly the man I was.  

But.

I want to be better.

Lord. 

Continue your work of transformation in my life. 

Thank you for bringing me from the ashes of a destructive life. Thank you I'm not where I used to be.

But.

I want more. 

I want to be as loving as is possible. 

To you.

My family.

My friends.

I want to learn how to not slip backwards so much even though the slips are getting less dramatic nowadays. 

I want to be more open.

I long to be even less religious if you know what I mean, and more in love with you Jesus.

I want to reach out to even more people. I want to touch lives with your majesty and your humility all at the same time. I want to be different, even more different than I've become. I want to speak up for you in even more amazing places than you have sent me so far. Not just the event stage or in front of a congregation, but on the sofa, in the back city street, in the broken home, in the hospital, in the prison, in the night, in the day. 

I want to spend even less time worrying and talking about the Salvation Army, the church and all that jazz and just enjoy my relationship with you God. The Army is something I can't control.  

Talking of control, I want to control nothing because you're in control.

I want to be better than I am now. 

So.

Make a better me. 

I leave my life in your hands.

Amen.

Post Script

I prayed this prayer while lying on my sofa tonight just watching TV. I felt an overwhelming impulse to share it on my blog. I don't know why. It's hardly groundbreaking stuff. It even probably appears a bit random. But when I feel those strong convictions, I just do it. So for whoever or whatever  it is here for, I pray you'll be blessed. 

Gaz

The Rattling

Bono once said this in an interview. 

"Stop asking God to bless what we do and instead find out what God is doing because that is already blessed."

That's the language of the Missio Dei.

It's a kind of clue to where Jesus really is working in the world today. 

Last week I sat down for a chat with one of our former homeless people who we managed to get housed, and is doing really well now. At one stage he was so desperate for a home, but praise God he now has one. He was so desperate for a family, he now has one. He was was so desperate for a saviour, he always had one. He just didn't know it. As we were talking, he was a bit fretful because Dawn and I are leaving to move to London. I put his mind at rest by talking up the new guys coming to take over from Dawn and I and reassuring him that he would be well looked after. We got around to reminiscing about a little procedure that we put in place a long time ago, especially relating to some debt he had on a service charge at the place we have managed to get him into. I was so tempted to just pay it for him, but I felt in my spirit that he needed to do it. Someone had given him one of those ultra cheesy WWJD bracelets and he never took it off. He was seriously worried about this money he owed and knew if he built up any more debt he would be kicked out of the room he lives in.  His trouble was that alcohol, and paying the service charge, were constantly battling, and the alcohol was winning every time. So, as we were talking this particular time, and just as I was about to give in to my soft side and sort it for him, my eye caught a glimpse of his WWJD bracelet. So I asked him to look at it. I asked him what it meant. He replied, "What would Jesus do? So I asked him what do you think Jesus would do in is situation Mate? He relied, "Do the right thing."

And.

Miraculously. 

In the simplicity of that moment.

Something shifted. 

He managed to pay off his service charge. 

Somehow. 

It took a while, but every time I met him, I began to ask him what would Jesus do? He would always reply, "Do the right thing."

To this day this little spiritual mechanism has helped this guy to move forward in many areas of his life. 

When thinking about this?

I guess the relationship I built with this guy connected with the work Jesus was doing and still is doing in this guys life. Just as he is working in my own life. And every body else's life for that matter. 

Bono's words seemed wise. 

"Stop asking God to bless what we do, and instead find out what God is doing because that is already blessed."

My heart led me to Ezekiel 37.

The valley of the dry bones. 

And I have been reflecting on our five years here in Durham.

I guess I'm bound to seeing as I'm leaving. 

I pictured the almost derelict hall in Saddler Street Durham. I gazed into the first week at Sacriston, a Corps that had been told it was about to close but had won a reprieve. I pictured the hall that looked like a lavish memorial to Salvationism. A memorial that was unwelcoming and had absolutely no chance of connecting with the world. I saw the small group of bedraggled people sitting in the hall that first Sunday. They'd been whittled down to just a few through years of decline. I could feel the vibes coming off them thinking "Who are these officers? They must have done something wrong to be sent here? I pictured the plants growing out of the gutters on the outside shouting out to people on the street "There's no one at home!" Dawn and I both cried when we saw it.

But.

What we saw was the valley of dry bones. 

We knew from attempting to plant a church in Liverpool that there were some facts that we had to understand.

Fact 1: The hard sell evangelistic approach to spreading the word, is dead.

Fact 2: You can't put new wine in an old skin. (Oh and that's biblical!)

Fact 3: Deep change, not incremental change, has to happen for the Salvation Army to move forward and I'm talking spiritually. 

Fact 4: love, and loving people is the main thing. 

Fact 5: Seriously building relationships with the whosoever is essential.

Fact 5: Acceptance, love and compassion are needed.

Fact 5: Jesus is already working in the lives of ourselves and others. 

So, here we were in our first days in Durham faced with a demoralised tiny congregation at Sacriston. A rapidly deteriorating hall complete with damp and mice. At Durham we were asked to look at a derelict hall in a seriously austere city dominated by a thousand years of  traditionalism regarding the church, oh and a bit of damp and not mice but rats!

It was a valley of dry bones. 

A dead place. 

We were a bit overwhelmed and even though we were armed with a serious vision to build a house of prayer? A brand new Salvation Army Corps on one hand and revive a dying Corps on the other? The strange little voices screamed in our heads, "No chance guys." 

But. 

The one thing that we understood was that Jesus was already at work. 

So whatever death was knocking about. 

He is the life giver. 

So the first thing we did is pray. 

The second thing we did from the bedrock of prayer, was set about trying to find out where Jesus was. And of course he was busy knocking on the door of people's lives. So we followed suit. 

And eventually we heard a rattling sound. 

The homeless guy, asking himself the little question, "What would Jesus do?" And then responding to himself, "Do the right thing!" That's the rattling sound of life being breathed into the spiritually dead. 

I guess Jesus doesn't care too much for maintaining a tradition. 

He really doesn't. (He spends half the New Testament trying to smash them!)

He doesn't care for strategies and structures.

He really doesn't. 

He doesn't care which version of the bible we prefer.

He really doesn't.

There is so much he must get frustrated with. 

But that's us sometimes, we like to create the perfect church don't we? 

But. 

I believe he cares about us. 

He cares about using us to reach others.

I believe he cares about every life.  

I believe he is working in the human race.

To save it. 

From sin, from itself, and from missing out on the wonder of his friendship. 

To breathe life into this world. 

And I've glimpsed that life.

As we draw to a close of our ministry at Sanctuary 21, a place where Dawn and I have been involved in from scratch. We would want to give God all the glory. 

All we've done is work hard to try to find out and be where God is and try to be his open arms to the whosoever. 

And there is life now in Sacriston and Durham. Many people at Durham have been drawn to that life. Sacriston has a completely new congregation that is growing and spiritually vibrant. 

An Army has risen from the ashes of decline. 

And I can safely say we've found him in the lives of the lost and the broken. In the streets, in the dark doorways, in the broken down Salvation Army Corps, in the derelict building, in the demoralised group of Salvationists, sitting with the Alcoholics and the drug addicts, the homeless, the lonely, in the lifelessness of the lost. 

Anyone who doubts that God can bring hope from lifelessness, well I can testify he is on the worlds case, he's on your case too! He's on mine!

Open your ears, open your heart. 

You will hear the rattling.

The life that will give rise to a mighty Army. 

So.

In the words of Bono.

""Stop asking God to bless what we do and instead find out what God is doing because that is already blessed."

Blessings guys. 

Dangerous

So I heard this group of guys singing in the City Square this morning an old sounding song that seemed to be called  "My Lord what a morning."

And that just about sums up how I feel about my morning at work today.

Sanctuary 21 was full of homeless guys and gang members this morning, one of those mornings where virtually the whole criminal community of Durham seemed to be gathered all at once!

At the same time some police came for a break.

Also at the same time our team of city homeless workers gathered for a quick meeting. 

The air was thick with tension. 

Welcome to the Salvation Army. 

A far cry from the pomp and ceremony. A million miles away from pristine uniforms and shiny shoes. Not a tambourine in sight, not a flag waving anywhere. 

Not literally anyway. 

This morning? 

All of that Salvationism stuff seemed quite appealing to me. You can get lost in it. 

But.

Then?

I looked over the scene in our building this morning.

One guy was so far gone on drugs his face ended up in his soup. Another guy had already been asked to leave the City today but was defiantly sitting on our sofa. Another girl was slugging wine from a bottle wrapped in a Tesco bag. I had to tell her that wasn't allowed in our building. She was not pleased. Another guy looked intimidating and dangerous and had been released from prison just this morning. Another girl had just had to say goodbye to her baby as she went into care and was in tears. It was all a but overwhelming really. There was tension in the air. You could feel it.

Then a guy who ill call J wanted a word with me.

I spoke with him. 

J has recently been released from prison too. I know because I had to be a witness in his trial. I felt a bit uneasy as we went to a quiet spot in the building. He looked at me and I could see in his eyes the desperate cry that I see everyday behind the hardness and bravado that these guys so often wear. He said "Gaz, I want to say sorry for doing what I did. Am I still allowed in here?" Then some tears appeared, but wouldn't roll down his face, I thought to myself how even his tears find it hard to come out. Then he said how prison had helped him come off alcohol for now. The homeless team had found him accommodation, I had got him a full set of clothes, and a food voucher to get him started. So after I had reassured him that of course I forgive him for the stuff he did outside our prayer centre and that of course he was welcome here, I spent the remainder of the conversation trying to reiterate to him that this was a chance. A chance to rebuild a shattered life. J is a former gangster who has fell from that scene due to his persistent alcoholism and drug addiction, he has a record as long as your arm, he has nobody who loves him or nobody he can love. He probably wouldn't know how anyway. He has a shocking listlessness about him that shouts out at anyone who cares to look or listen, "I have no hope." 

And then?

In those struggling eyes that so wanted to cry, I saw hope. I saw a human. I saw Jesus.

And.

For all the danger of mission, for all the tension, for all the spiritual fighting that can wear you down to almost nothing, for all the critical situations including life and death that we find ourselves in when mixing with people like this? For all the criticism our project and Dawn and I personally get so often from some people within our own denomination? I'm reminded that this is the Salvation Army.

This is it.

What i think we are called to.

Who I guess we are. 

Sometimes operating on the dangerous side of mission. 

Someone said to me the other day, "I've hidden in the regal side of Salvationism way too much in my lifetime." I didn't know what he really meant. I think I do today. I think I did that for a large part of my life in the Salvation Army, not that there is anything wrong with the regal side, the glitz and the glamour of the congresses and the brilliant artistry showcased so often by our gifted people. The relentless trudge to the meeting on a Sunday. No there's nothing wrong with that, thank God we have such things and people. But praise God he's also calling people to the dangerous side of mission, to the mission field where the battle is sometimes so intense. Where the hurting and the dying stare at you with longing eyes, where their outstretched arms reach up to us and ask us to rescue them. Where there is blood spilt, where there is filth lurking, where there is the most need. 

I told J God loves him.  

We wrapped up our little talk. 

He went back and sat with his mates, they had been waiting for him and had decided to go down to the river for a drink. J went with them, no doubt he will be drunk later on. 

That's the frustrating side of mission too. 

Nevertheless. 

For the Js of this world? For the brokenness of this world? We are the Salvation Army, we are the Church. 

And God says my Salvation is for everybody. 

And he means everybody, every living, breathing person ever. 

So don't get caught up in the ever burning fight to find out who the Salvation Army are.

Be the Salvation Army.

Be the Church. 

Be the amazing person God created you to be. 

Blessings. 

Get up and get dressed!

Another Sunday. 

The sixth to last sunday at Sanctuary 21 before Dawn and I move to London. 

A Sunday where I was down to preach three times in the day. 

After a fantastic early breakfast in a city cafe, I walked up to Sanctuary 21. While walking through the city my mind was reflecting own our move to London.  We have seen God do immeasurably more than we could ever imagine in the last five years. We have had a brilliant time and we are leaving the most incredible people behind. 

I began to feel a bit of a strange flutter deep in my abdomen. 

The flutter was a panicky kind of feeling. 

Then the "what if" brigade marched into my head from nowhere.  

"What if we never experience the kind of growth we have seen ever again? What if the new division don't take to us? What if the people don't like us? What if we don't get the incredible favour we have had heaped upon our ministry in the North East?"

What if?

What if?

What if?

As We got to the door of Sanctuary 21 and scooped my bunch of keys out of my pocket, I was feeling a bit scared, a bit uncertain and a bit fragile to be honest. 

As We opened the door, Dawn picked up a piece of paper that had been posted through our letter box and had landed on the floor. She took it upstairs. 

Funnily enough, God had kind of given me a word to communicate to three different congregations that day. 

It sorted the "what if" brigade right out. 

It was the call of Jeremiah. Jeremiah 1: 4-19

I was taken by verse 17.

"But you, up on your feet and get dressed for work! Stand up and say your piece. Say exactly what I tell you to say. Don't pull any punches or I will pull you out of the line up." (Message)

Jeremiah had been called as a prophet to the nations, he was a bit reluctant, a bit scared and a bit fragile. In response to the call, Jeremiah had said this to God. "Alas sovereign Lord, I do not know how to speak; I am too young."

Sounds like the what if brigade had marched into Jeremiah's head too. So he brings out the excuses to why he shouldn't be a prophet to the nations. 

God tells him to get up on his feet and get to work!

In our journey as Salvation Army officers, Dawn and I have had to plant two prayer centres from scratch. We've seen God build both places in Liverpool and now Durham in breathtaking fashion. 

But. 

Here we are faced with being appointed West London development officers.

Development?

That may mean starting from scratch again. 

As I got my coffee before the meeting at S21 started on Sunday, the "what if" brigade had me convinced for a second or two that Dawn and I were inadequate for this new task, we couldn't possibly build or develop anything new for a third time. 

Until.

As I quickly read the scripture in my office as I prepared myself to speak that morning, the words in verse 17 hit me like an Exocet. 

"Get up and get dressed for work!"

I pictured the need that we have ministered into and tried to picture the gigantic need that will be in a city as massive as London. And I had a sense that I knew God was speaking to me. 

"Get up and get dressed for work. Despite how you feel, I will put my words in your mouth and I will rescue you. Go to them and say whatever I command you to say."

A new level of courage swept into my body. 

Then as I emerged into the main worship hall at S21 Dawn passed me the piece of paper that she had picked up earlier. 

It was a picture of someone's brain scan. 

We get prayer requests posted through our doors all the time, and this one was a heart cry from a mother for her daughter. 

Written on it was a simple sentence. 

"Please pray for my daughter, this is her brain scan, she has a large tumour and they can't remove it. Please pray. Please."

We prayed hard that morning for this situation.

But. 

There was another reason that the request was important.

For me. 

I was so touched by it. 

It was the fact that I think God was reminding me why he laid the vision he has given to Dawn and I and the reason he was telling me to get up and get dressed for work. And an overwhelming sense of something even more incredible than we have seen so far was going to materialise in London. 

It reminded me of the desperate need that is in our world. And we are the response to that need. 

All of us. 

Whatever God calls us to or envisions us to carry out, do not let the "what if" brigade, a renegade band of hapless thoughts, penetrate your mind and ultimately your soul because there is so much Work to do. So many bleeding hearts to touch, so many tortured souls to set free. 

And we are it.

We are The ones called to join Jesus Christ in his saving work in this world. 

So if you are doubting who you are in Christ, or doubting your calling or questioning your visions and dreams? 

Here's the word.

"But you, get up and get dressed for work!"

Massive blessings.