Decisions and other things......

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I made a decision the other day. God's been calling me to be a celibate for a long time and guess what? Well I finally said a certain yes! I made a choice to take him up on his call. So what does that mean? Well it means I won't be getting married....for starters. Second it means....well I dunno but I know God's got a plan. It's exciting. 

But anyway I thought I would put up this post. Nothing really to do with the above subject. I just thought I'd share that first then share this. Partly felt to post it because for the last week I've found myself becoming kind of smitten with the Catholic Church.

Yeah, that's what I said. 

It's too much to explain now, but I promise I'll get onto it in a future post. Now I'll leave you with this post started on the 10th July this year and left saved in my documents because at the time I wasn't sure whether to post it or not.  Enjoy....

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So I was in town the other day (Birmingham City Centre to non Brummies) and I came across a young lady on the 'Save our packs' campaign. I was out as part of a team talking to people about God. So when two campaigners for different causes meet you expect there to be a trade-off, right?

Well..........let me continue.

I asked her 'Why are you campaigning so late'. It was 10pm. She said she was going back to her Uni, and invited me to continue talking with her as we both headed that way. Firstly I was sharing my life with her, my time at Uni, and how I didn't pursue a career in my field because I wanted to do 'something to do with God'. She was very attentive as I shared and she was doing a very similar course to the one I did. We continued to talk and I found out she was from a Catholic background. She asked me a lot of questions on various things, mostly to do with Protestants (which was her nice way of labelling me) and the practices of some prominent Pentecostal people and churches, which she disagreed with.

Strangely, quite a few things struck me about this lady and many times I was stuck listening or just smiling. These things included:

• How she refused to chew her words, speaking plainly on issues such as tithing, money mismanagement, and 'anointed handkerchiefs'.
• The fact that I agreed with a lot of what she said, though she was a Catholic and I was a so called Protestant.
• The thoughts she had on how her faith should be practiced.
• Her seemingly deep understanding of the Catholic tradition and belief in it.
• Her explanation on the need for structure in the church.

Though I didn't agree with her views on everything, like the need for hierarchy in the church, saint status, the need for relics and other things, I was surprised at how much this young lady knew and how seriously she took her faith, though she wasn't practicing for various reasons. The need for discerning the body of Christ when taking the bread and wine with any confessions or reconciliations made beforehand, the respect she had for authority and laws of the Catholic church concerning women priests, and the fact that she slipped in that 'even though (she) may believe (she’s) called in that area, the word of the authority stands', all left me a bit awestruck. I said so many times realising I'd have to leave the conversation sooner or later how much I enjoyed talking with her.

Something that topped it off was when I asked her if she had a Bible, thinking it would be a New Jerusalem Bible (a newer, simpler Catholic translation) if any. Her answer surprised me. She said she had a Douay Rheims Bible because she prefers accuracy over the simpler phrases in the New Jerusalem one. Her similarities to me caught me off guard, and we'd only been talking an hour! Yet she was Catholic.....and I was not. What a dilemma....or maybe there was something deeper in it. Maybe God was showing me something. 

Though she believed in the practices of Catholicism, some of which I couldn't agree nor reconcile myself with, and though she didn't agree with some of the things which I had said, we had found a common ground. She indeed was a believer in Christ's atonement, his death, his resurrection, his Sonship and his position in the Trinity. And whether I could get with it or not, we were bone of the same bone, and I was called to love her. 

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Questions: Could it be true that for so many years we have been separating ourselves from those who are actually a part of us? 

Could it be that God makes no distinction between Catholics and Protestants, but he's seeking those who are born of him whatever 'titles' they carry? 

Could it be that for years we've been fighting our brothers and sisters when we really should have extended our arms towards them to embrace and love them.........

Definitely food for thought......

Glory in the midst of this....

You get glory in the midst of this, and you're walking with me. And you say I am blessed because of this, so I choose to believe. As I carry this cross, you'll carry me.....

Audrey Assad

I dunno what to say really. God has been faithful. He's honestly carried me through the last two years. I've written of my experiences throughout the last few years but I've never quite saw it in the light of what he's done till today.

The last two years in a summary has been God teaching me about his grace and sustaining power despite my mistakes and disobedience. It's been about him showing me my frailties, prides and weaknesses whilst also showing me that he's still in the work of redeeming. 

It started with a call to go to London. This was the word I was given....

I want you to go to London. I don't want you to be involved in secular work no matter what kind it is. I want you to be a full time evangelist for me. I want you to go.

So what do you do when God gives you a word like that? You go of course. And that's what I did. On a cold October evening I found myself in London with my suitcase, a word, and nowhere to stay. My dad allowed me to go, but my mom was staunch against me leaving. However I went anyway (Later on God told me my error was in my dishonour. No matter how honourable my intentions of serving him, I should have honoured my mother).  

As I reached, I told some friends what God had told me. During my first weeks I did some sofa surfing, and rode the bus one night sleeping on the back seats. I had a night of going to my former uni and sleeping on waiting area chairs and spent time walking about wandering what was gonna happen to me. A Somali man came up to me one night and gave me some encouragement to push to get out of this lifestyle after seeing me ride the buses and his words seemed like the words of an angel to me. I looked at him, saw him leave then followed him desiring to share the gospel with him. Then I stopped short thinking, 'Look at my situation. How could I share the gospel with anyone at this point and them take me seriously’. I seemed to have lost all credibility in my own eyes, so I turned back ashamed.

During that time some friends put me up but I knew I was trying their patience, so I moved on. Some wished me well, hoping I found some accommodation whilst unwilling to put me up themselves. Some put me up, waiting for me to move on. It was easy to tell people's hearts though with their words they did not say much. Others I was afraid to ask. I didn't want them to see my shame. Things were like this for a while until I found a man who I paid a little money upfront and rented a room in his house. So for a month I lived like this, claiming JSA, housing benefit and getting a commission job to try and tide me over. The problem was the job wasn't paying. And I was slowly getting conviction about the word God had given me.

My issue was I felt I was scraping at the barrel just trying to survive. I also forgot about doing the full time evangelist stuff. I said 'God won't mind if I get a job with a Christian organisation. Maybe that's what he meant by the word. So I'll get such a job and do evangelism on the side. That'll be OK'. But at the back of my mind I knew I was reinterpreting God's word to me to save my own skin. At a point I gave up my JSA because I didn't feel I was able to comply with the conditions. I wasn't available to do any kind of work. God had given me a specific word. So at this point I did my best to live on my savings of £7 a week, food and travel included. 

At a point I knew God was telling me to give up all I had in my bank and he would provide for me. I said if I do this, how would I survive? I thought this over for quite a while with dread, and then decided not to do it. The thought of having absolutely nothing and being thrown out on the street absolutely terrified me, and because of that I discarded God's voice and tried to survive on what I had. Within two months all the money I fought so hard to keep had disappeared. And I had nothing. 

I was still going to church 12 miles away but barely. I had no money to get there, trying to fulfil my religious obligations and also what I believed God wanted me to do which was not be on JSA and evangelise. But soon I lost the willpower to even do that, and the strength. 

I now ended up hopeless to do what God had called me to do, and turned my attention to the commission job and the far away benefits of a millionaire's lifestyle which it seemed to promise me if I became good at it. Money seemed like my salvation, so my mind turned to my idols, whose names were comfort and worldly riches. Through wilful disobedience, I felt God was no longer there to help. I called his name and claimed I lived to do his will, but in reality I was chasing comfort with the thought of being able to do his will after I had it, a lifestyle which God does not honour. Those who are disobedient in order to get into a position to do God's will will never be trusted or honoured with God's presence and direction once they get there. 

Thankfully God had mercy on me. In one more effort, on New Years’ Day 2011 I felt God said to me (I paraphrase)

You are not in my perfect will. You're not doing what I asked you to do. Either do what I've asked you to do or forget it.

At that point I knew what he was talking about. I knew what I had to do and soon I was on the phone to my boss. After quitting my commission work, I went back to full time evangelism. I told those at my church what I was gonna do, and that I had quit the job. Some warned me about people who have ended up as nothing following their own way trying to establish positions for themselves. Honestly I thought nothing of titles and the sort, but I can't lie and say I wasn't desirous of vainglory. God knows I was in error, but that was my heart. The pastor was unhappy I had not consulted him beforehand and subsequently I was subjected to much ridicule from the pulpit. I eventually brushed it off and continued on. I admit that in all my humiliation, I was still quite proud. It causes me to identify completely with Joseph the dreamer. I was a young, boastful irritant to my brethren and those in positions of authority over me. However as time went on, things have started to change as I’ve gone through my experiences, as they did with Joseph.

I've mentioned what happened after these events in previous posts such as The way God works and Being changed. In fact all my blog entries seem to piece together in some kind of weird way. It reminds me of the scripture quoted below...

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.

- Romans 8:28

It's surely true that God is working things together for us, despite our mistakes. My life is a testimony of that. Though it's hard to see sometimes how he can fix what we've done, we can trust him. He is God after all. And he can turn anything around for good for those who love him. Those who he has called to bring him glory.

Stay Blessed

Meditations Part 5...

Seeing is believing


Feeling is receiving


A burden


To let your soul feed on an experience


That every night, many guys


Slowly come to terms with


A life their told they've chosen


As broken as the church is


And soulless as a dirge can be


They merge with their surroundings


As pee takers take a pee


On those that's sleeping soundly


A man beaten


That was on the news the other day


Just for sleeping rough, abused


The vulnerable are nothing new


So I take a sip of chocolate


Thinking that I just went


And gave a brer my packed lunch


Appeasin' up my conscience


But greed had really fuelled my offer


Cus I wasn't really


Feeling them sandwiches


Was feeling for a one spend


So I appeased my purchase


With my charity


Not understanding


Jesus seeing my hypocrisy


Got that nice facade


Of a Christian philanthropist


But the damage based in


Sin when you dismantle it


That it's not about you


But it's all about me


Pride hidden in the system


That I'm established in


They say we love the poor


People say we love the poor


While some of us chillin'


In our buildings living happily


Not a thought is spent upon them


Nor is this thing centred on them


But we tryna make sure we survive


Through our bed of problems


Peeps take a backseat


When your thinking often


Of building up your businesses


And of increasing numbers


People aren't statistics


Jesus rolled with misfits


Who never had a clue


But that's who he served the vision


Chose 12, 1 left


But he preferred the Christians


Who chose to follow him to death


And were reserved a kingdom


Conferred upon 'em


Nah, you never heard him wrong


The poor in spirit


Are the ones he died to purchase from


A life of death


Sometimes we forget their plight


At times to love the poor


We just need better sight....

Behind all the glitz and glamour...

I'm tired right now, but I'm gonna do my best to write this blog. It's important....

For two out of the last three nights I've been out with Birmingham Homeless Support and Outreach (BHSO). What started as an experiment, continued as a chance to see the other side of Birmingham's streets. Behind all the glitz and glamour of the Bullring Shopping Centre and the fancy Mailbox and new roadworks for a new tram system and train station to enlarge Birmingham's reputation as the UK's second city, stands something people overlook, ignore, shut their eyes to and shun. The homeless.

Now who's walked past that Big Issue seller in the street, that beggar with his little bowl, or that man that comes and asks for spare change. I admit. I have. Today, last week and the week before. Why? Because I don't have any money. Because I need to get receipts for everything I spend. Cus I've got to go somewhere quickly. Cus the person I'm with looks at him in disgust. Cus I can't stand to part with a penny of MY money. The list is endless.

Tell him go get a job. He'll only spend it on fags and alcohol so why bother. It won't help him in the long run. Also the reasons to scorn those asking for money seem to be endless. But what if you choose to look deeper? What if you allow it to break your heart for a minute? What if you give up your life and take on theirs for a night?

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Wednesday night: What do I see? Turn by the side of Nando's in Paradise forum and you see a group of people looking maybe like they're about to start a riot. But nah, that's not what they're gonna do. They're waiting for the curry to be brought. To get their snack on. For the person who's coming to feed them. Who is that person you ask?  That's easy. It's a few Muslim men and women who've come to share with the people food, water, pop and meet their need.

Now there's two things I can do as a Christian in that situation. Scorn these Muslims and write off the reasons there doing it as some ulterior motive and maybe seek to something similar and try and put them to shame. Or the second, ask myself that difficult question. Ask myself why I haven't looked at the need and addressed the problem before this? Why when someone asks me for something do I close my heart? Why am I not out on the streets, doing what they're doing, not because I wants to enter some religious competition but because I care for these people? Why hasn't the need penetrated my heart, as it seems to have done others?

Switch to the BHSO team. A bunch of lads (and a girl). Terrible jokes and often quite coarse language permeate their conversation, but the need has penetrated their heart. Some have a quiet faith, a few aren't sure if they believe or not, but because they've experienced that side of life and their consciences won't let them be quiet they are now out on the streets every day making a difference. What does that say to us? Us with all the knowledge, the theology in our minds, the dogma in our speech. Does it say that some people who don't speak the way you would like, who don't have the financial means you do, who haven't necessarily read the Bible as much as you have, have the heart and sensitivity to human vulnerability and pain to observe Christ's teachings and minister his life more than you do. You whom claim you're 'a better Christian' in speech, knowledge and conduct. What shame should fill your soul.

Now I won't say they've got it all together but they're out there, no front, no facade, no desire for honour or accolades, and they're doing it. It sends chills up my spine thinking of every excuse I make and will make. Shame into my heart whenever I think of the profession I declare, and the shame of how my actions betray my words.

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Wednesday night: a man died in a car park in Birmingham town centre, 20 something, sleeping rough. Probably won't make the news. Tonight: two ladies, middle aged, are out in the freezing Birmingham streets, keeping their eyes open most of the night to avoid someone trying something. They've been doing that for a week and a half. And tonight, we'll be sleeping in our beds, maybe reading a book beforehand, hoping we'll get enough hours on our nice mattresses, preparing for tomorrow, still blind to the need. It's an interesting contrast.