Monday, October 29, 2007

Read all about it on the buses

A little incident last night, recounted to me by a friend:

Last night Shaun and I were walking up toward Broadgate past bus stops and giving people Streetpapers. A bus pulled up and people started getting on, but the driver opened his cab door, held them up and called out to Shaun 'Hey Jesus man, can I have a paper?' he did it twice before Shaun cottoned on and reached through with a paper. The driver received it and then shut his cab and dealt with his passengers.

Encouraging this - not just because I edit the Streetpaper (the 'good news' paper of the Jesus Army)... some people out there want to know.

Jesus is always relevant and we want to spread His fame.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

The lawyer didn't like us... (sounds familiar)

We’re a church of the poor, a working class, underclass church. That’s not to say there aren’t people in our ranks who come from ‘privileged’ backgrounds, but they, like the rest of us, have embraced a lifestyle of deliberate equality: brotherhood for real.

One of my friends (son of a wealthy lawyer, now living in Christian community in the same town as me), had an email from an old university friend recently. In it she describes two very different reactions to the Jesus Army.

I recently experienced some strong reactions to JA when I mentioned to a friend from my church (well sort of from my church – he has actually stopped going ‘cause he gets very cross with the vicar) that I’d met up with a uni friend in the JA and some of my thoughts on that. He went off on one about it being controlling and manipulative – and I was a bit like “Whoa – have you actually ever met anyone or talked to anyone in the JA?!”
Anyway – it was an eye opener as to some of the reactions you lot must inspire! To counter this I was also chatting to a homeless guy outside Harrods who was from
Coventry and who knew the JA and said you were all great; in his words “not like the skinny girls who go to HTB!”...
Think its probably telling that it’s the homeless guy and not the middle class lawyer who is positive about your work.

When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the “sinners” and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: “Why does he eat with tax collectors and ‘sinners’?” On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Mark 2:16-17)

Friday, October 05, 2007

The Party to end all Parties

We had a large whole church bash last weekend in Sheffield. A kind of all-singing, all-dancing, lights, camera, action kind of affair. (The Jesus Army's good at making enthusiatic noise.)

One of the items we mounted in the evening was a kind of poetic drama I wrote "for four voices" called The Party to end all Parties.

It went down fairly well, so I thought I'd post it here and you can tell me what you think.

The party to end all parties (a drama for four voices)

Dear Sir,
At the end of time,
in the garden of delights,
in the city of peace,
in the newly-made earth,
God
is throwing the party to end all parties.
You are invited.
RSVP.

Voice 2:
Dear God,
I haven’t the time
for your garden of delights, no offence.
I have a field of my own to attend to,
I’m leading the way in my field.
Making it big, as it goes, very busy,
fielding all opposition.
My apologies, hope it goes well.

Voice 3:
Dear God,
Just the wrong time for me,
your city of peace, worse luck.
I’m sure you’ve heard of my breakthrough in business,
Oxen Inc. is on the brink of cornering the market.
So, sorry, pass on my regards,
to the angels.

Voice 4:
Dear God,
Such unfortunate timing
for your fantastic newly-made earth!
See, I’m rather attached to the old one!
After quite a chase, I finally caught her
in matrimonial embrace.
(We’ll be honeymooning in Nice.)
Much regret, but I’ll bet
you’ll have a great time without us.

Voice 1:
Dear sixteen year-old homeless girl,
You’ve continued with prostitution
and you’re trapped in it.
Selling your body in order to survive,
life allowed you no other option.
You are invited
at the end of time,
in the garden of delights,
in the city of peace,
in the newly-made earth,
to the party to end all parties.

Voice 2:
Dear Rwandan asylum seeker,
You suffered from bowel cancer
and had a colostomy bag
and were refused treatment by
Great Britain’s NHS
because you could not register with a doctor.
You are invited
at the end of time,
in the garden of delights,
in the city of peace,
in the newly-made earth,
to the party to end all parties.

Voice 3:
Dear 9,853 ASBOs in England and Wales,
You’re widely regarded as scum,
hopeless and dangerous delinquents,
you’re bored and convinced life is worthless.
You are invited
at the end of time,
in the garden of delights,
in the city of peace,
in the newly-made earth,
to the party to end all parties.

Voice 4:
Dear gay teenager,
You’re terrified that they might find out
and bully you like that queer in your maths class.
They put pictures of him on the internet
and trashed his young life.
You have wet dreams about lads
and wake up feeling desperate.
You are invited
at the end of time,
in the garden of delights,
in the city of peace,
in the newly-made earth,
to the party to end all parties.

Voice 1:
Dear Goth
Voice 2:
dear tramp
Voice 3:
dear autistic kid
Voice 4:
dear crack addict
Voice 1:
dear porn actor
Voice 2:
dear street sweeper
Voice 3:
dear single dad
Voice 4:
dear blind woman
Voice 1:
dear broke father
Voice 2:
dear depressed man
Voice 3:
dear self-harming girl
Voice 4:
dear punk
Voice 1:
dear busker
Voice 2:
dear pensioner
Voice 3:
dear person who isn’t too busy
Voice 4:
dear you.

All voices:
You are invited
at the end of time,
in the garden of delights,
in the city of peace,
in the newly-made earth,
to the party to end all parties.


Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Four poems on being and not being

To be or not to be

To say that God
does not exist
is to saw off the branch
you are sitting on;
cut down the tree,
burn the forest,
drown the island,
drink the sea,
douse the flame,
wipe clear the sky,
and never have read this poem.
It is to realise with a sudden
certain puzzlement
that you don’t exist either.

Alternatively
it is to be
a fool.

QED

I think therefore I am
I am therefore I think
He is because I think
He thinks therefore I am

He is I am therefore
I am because he thinks
Because He is I am
Therefore I think He is.

Being

Being being
does not make Him
abstraction.
He is not
algebra
alone, not
a quality
but quality itself.
All things: He is;
all things derive
from Him.
There is no thing
that exists
apart from Him.

Turning
does not make me
merely less.
I am not
subtraction,
apart, but
unbeing
inverted upon myself.
Nothing I am
and still I am
from Him.
I cannot think
no thoughts
and this is sin.

Falling, falling,
I will not reach
ground zero.
I cannot fall
beyond
number, not
endlessness,
bottomless infinity.
In hell: He is.
Though I cease
to be
there is no place
to flee
from His presence.

Returning
then, remakes me
much, much more
than only
addition.
Approaching, not
in space
but in likeness.
All things: I am;
all things at home
in me.
For I only truly
live
when found in Him.

Reflection

Funny.
Looking at You is like
looking into a mirror
and realising
that I am the reflection.