Healing?????

‘I believe your my healer’.
‘with the following instructions, ....heal the sick, raise the dead, clense those who have leprosy, drive out demons...’

Do you ever get a little fed up, maybe you haven’t seen any healing, maybe no miraculous signs or wonders have gone down in a while and your just desperate for something. Maybe your losing faith? Maybe your not sure if it can really happen?

Just consider this...
Its a cloudy afternoon, 5 transit folk take a break from clearing the community garden on one of the toughest estates in the north. Carmella, a lady of around 80 years old who is just getting ready to go in for a hip swap operation, hands out a few cups of tea and simply asks a little about what transit is all about. We recount the tail, its basic to say the least, bit of this, rhythms of that, helping where we can, just trying to be image bearers of Christ in the world. With a look across her face that exudes dumbfounded hope she utters a few words that shake my thinking “that’s healing that is, that’s healing that is to hear you say that” (in a wonderful Italian/Yorkshire blended accent) That’s healing, I stop to consider for a moment of two. Just think, as we struggle and strive to do as best we can in advancing the kingdom, in prayer and action could that in its self be healing? Granted no one has been cured of cancer of freed from HIV, but an old lady who’s faith had taken a jump forward through some practical help. A boy who really needs some help with writing lyrics for a party on Saturday night and on a deeper level is searching for someone to restore a sense of trust in his life. Some sound advice to a guy about to face a tuff sentence, could these simple acts, in God’s hands be bringing about healing. Is a broken heart, a lost sense of trust, heightened pride and self dependence be the very things that need to be healed in the lives of the people around us. And greater still what if a whole community has lived and been founded on disappointment, failure, let down and depression. Could the simple act of serving free tea and cakes as a sign of acceptance love and hope be bringing about a change in the atmosphere and in doing so be bringing about healing (on one level)

I don’t really know, I’m just working it out, but the prophetic words of an Italian, Yorkshireean pensioner gave me another of life’s proverbial slaps in the face and then I’m left bemused by a God, a God of healing, in every sense of the word.

So where do we go from here???

just another day in the city

It’s like a 20 past 8 and then some, the streets still quite empty it’s like the days not yet quite begun. On the estate that we walk from
it’s not all about early birds
coz they lost sight of the worms, they weren’t up early enuff for them to get some
So we enter the race, the tightly fitted carriage sends a slight reminder that in our little bubble we don’t have worry about this daily trouble

Stepping of its a bit unknown, same sights of the big city, same gray tarmac underfoot, same buildings cutting up the early morning sky.

The task, just a day in the big smoke, a few house in the city
“Don’t take out with ya, just simply be”
Just, you know, see wot ya see.
Oh yeah and where is God in the city

The shadow of religion looms over me
The imposing architecture and massive heavy wooden doors coupled with the ‘everybody welcome’ sign seem to confuse few passersby,
but i figure, let’s go see where the cracks at and step a little foot inside.
I’m consumed by the front row line up. The 11 plus two Paul and Barnabus make up the starting 13 and when you think of fantasy football and the these guys make up a healthy starting team.
The dark wood and red carpets ooze religion,
the knitted knelling cushions ooze old age.
I’m staggered by the graves,
so many lives passed by, so many memorials that lie, but.... I don’t know, it seems a little like show like the more important the better position you get and the more your name glows????
I don’t know.
Then the horror, I read a little church magazine, and these are the words that lay before me.
This church was built as a memorial to God’s grace and truth in the year 1841, when most houses were in squalor and money was hard to be found

Now Im no expert
but at these words, there’s gotta be something, something deep inside your guts that just breaks down and says. “That aint right”.
Where the flip is the justice, and where IS God in all this (I appreciate my view is sceptical and Im sure this place has washed many sins and helped many into the kingdom, but, really?)
Then outside, I’m meet with a juxtaposition of the faith
In the shadow of the church lies a bench full of hurt
5 alcoholics
Just getting their drink on
Moved on
You gotta ask
How, do you bridge that gap?

A quick trip to the river to just observe the social surround and people that pass and just listen. Listen to the city sound,
find out where it can and is found.

HQ for a spot of nessiccary tea, bit of banter, dab a history.
A stark reminder of Gods heart that bleeds real blood for the poor and needy.
And the title of a book that just so grabs me,
‘Faith in the dark places’.
I love it
finding faith in the faces, of people and places and picking up the sound where they can’t even taste it,
its so desperately deep but inherently basic.
Face it,
its all around, just hiding a little waiting, to be found

A quid for a pasty, handy! Eaten in front of a street preacher that basically is saying the right stuff, but, flipping well putting people off.
It doesn’t seem like a message of love.
You can’t knock his dedication but somehow it seems like it’s just raising tensions.

Then a chat with a man, at the Christians for Israel stand. Ok, so what do you do?
a barrage ensues
about the Jews
and their significance in all that it is we do
and how we owe our faith to the Jews
and that Jerusalem is and will be the home of king of the Jews,
when judgement ensues?
I leave with a hand full of odd DVDs and just a little confused.

But that’s a feeling I’m use to.

Toilet in an art gallery, take in a bit of the ‘surrealism in context’ expo.
I don’t mind a bit of art, but I have to admit to not being a critic,
Does anyone really get this?
Really?
Step back into the real world to some guys stilt jumping plus a couple of free runners
Pause to consider a new career in extreme sports,
further pause in the realisation that I’m too lazy, unfit and unmotivated to actually follow this through.
It’s a good idea but, wot can you do

Moving on the busy streets
afternoon brings a new found intensity in the city.
And as the people flow buy and life moves in the breeze
I’m suddenly overwhelmed by the need for more tea.
Organic tea?
More expensive the first thing that strikes me,
but the two guys looking a little like there, homeless moves me
In to the situation, and catch the attention of a man
Just perched up at the stand, organic coffee in one hand
A plastic bag and socks with saddles,
not the usual guy Id spot but, this seems like an angle
His full on beard and Russian military style head gear slightly perplex me
He’s a living representation of the next-door neighbour from home alone, you remember
Quite scary

But as we trade tales of home towns and how we get down
I find a little of myself in this man.
His rolled cigarette and eyes of regret tell a tale of a hard worked life,
And to be honest, as conversation arises his worrisome look turns to a look of wisdom when you relies he’s all about life.
He was baptised at 16
And although hes not a religious guy
You can see some deep rooted hope in his eye,
We discus church history and issues of justice while the world moves at a pace around us
By his exterior don’t be put off
This guy knows his stuff
We discuss
The church, the why and why not
And how to live as a representative of Jesus, well that’s enuff
But how for most its not

So move down, south side of town and there’s something about a familier sound
That simply draws you in, even when
Its down a back ally into the dark
But, trust me
Thats where the fun starts
Subdub records,
Oldskool setting,
back of some shops up t a dodge stair case that looks unsuspecting
Apart from the weed smoking rasta man painted on the wall
The hooded up yut man behind the counter engages in banter
And I ask about the Leeds sound
“Its big man” it moves around but dub step d&b dance hall and raga
We got it all goin on my man
This is our manor”

So then its getting later
Pace back down the end of town to sit by the river
But on the way a guy stops me
He even asks politely and properly
Excuse me my friend could you do me a favour?
Wots that I reply unsuspecting,
He holds out his hand and gets ready to receive
Burv, have you got 50p
As i sit on the curb at in the nicer end of town with two guys Im taken into a completely different world.
Mikey and Dave
This is there home, theses streets this town, these places I passed.
Its where they doing the living.
A little deeper below the surface lies some much sinister purpose that drives them to be out here.
Yeha we got family
We got kids and that
But,
They can’t ever see us like this
It’s the drink you see, its got a grip.
And we can’t get out of it
A few prison stretches they share between them and this seems to further the friendship in em
It seems they have like a code or something.
They don’t share the money but if one needs a drink, then all he need do is ask and his mans got his back
It seems even in the hardest places, community is something to be searched out.
There’s a few of them, I find they meet wherever they can, the run down the places in town where you can hang and the places that hand out food when they can
Mikey’s two black eyes show the tails of street life,
and how it’s not so much them that are the threat
but that in this position and in just observing them you can see there’s a massive amount of venerability in this position
Should you given money even if it is only 25p
Well i guess they’ll probably spend in down the road in the offey
But
Wasn’t it Jesus
Who gave love unconditionally

So wots the sound of the city?????