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.
