Cultural differences...

For the past few months I've been aware of the fact that I'm a minority, whether it be at church at times in terms of race or at poetry shows in terms of faith. This realisation can have its pros as well as its cons. A community where common culture is found, despite pigment or viewpoints, is always a refreshing change. But no matter how we strive for it, it often seems elusive, and as a result culture clashes remain a big issue.

Culture can affect the way a person dresses, how they walk....even down to the jokes they laugh at and the music they listen to. Let me narrate one such occasion where the realisation of culture and ethnic differences became very apparent to me.

Now a couple of months ago, there was a church celebration event which was held in Sheffield. I was off work that day so I decided to rock on by (but knew I would be leaving early as I had a 5am shift the next day). For the past weeks preceding this event, I had become a lot more aware of the fact that I had grown up in a very different culture to those I reside and fellowship with. There was a lot that seemed to come up that puzzled me as I started to try to reconcile my Jamaican heritage with the British culture I saw before me. Up to that point I'd thought myself very British but after analysing certain things I wasn't so sure.

As I went to the meeting at Sheffield I felt strange. It was mostly to do with me and where I was at personally. Greeting my brother Hamid I felt even more odd. However, as Hamid had done nothing to arouse this sense of oddness I realised it was me. Internally I was quite frantic. I was stressed. I was also a bit cautious and very closed. Over the previous weeks I'd let a bit of the spiritual element of London affect me. Coldness towards others, sharpness, suspicion and lack of eye contact were all exhibiting themselves. Even anger and paranoia came through thinking some in this hall had their own prejudices. This justified me in my thinking, so I thought, 'If people in this room have racism in their hearts towards me, then that excuses me having hate and racism towards them also'. I started to notice the amount of our congregation who were from a white British background and once again felt like a minority. 

These feelings railed on me until I was greeted by some of my brethren from Birmingham. Then for the first time that day, I thought of others around the church who loved me and whom I loved, who I would see later and find happiness in being with despite skin colour. With these people culture and race didn't matter as kingdom culture prevailed. At home at times, the culture differences were very apparent; yet in the great congregation of the saints I could be open. I could share my heart and I didn't feel a British culture, nor any other culture weighing heavy on me. I didn't even see colour so much anymore because the kingdom had taken over.

Being honest, I don't want to go back to my Jamaican culture with it's ideas of righteousness which fall far short of God's heart. Neither do I want to go back to the pro-blackness of my old man which raises it's nose at other cultures and tries to make everything about his colour and natural roots. British culture also doesn't appeal to me. It's values, opinions, standards of analysis and gauges of approval and disapproval all ring hollow in my spirit. The only thing I want deep in my heart is kingdom culture....yet I know this comes at a price.

As I came back on the train from Sheffield, I dozed off. When I woke up, we were just pulling up to St Pancras International. I got out and as I walked through the station everything seemed so shiny.  There were people dressed up, and the women that passed me looked so stylish and elegant. I wondered why everything seemed so flashy and people aimed to make such an impression with their exteriors. It wasn't like it was a dinner party. To me it was only a train station. 

I realised the spirit of the place; how it was so different to the place I'd just come from. Unknowingly I had gone head first into the world's culture. Everything was much more hype and made so much more of an outward impression when compared with the meeting I'd just come from. Yet for all this, something in me didn't take to it. As I moved on into Kings Cross St Pancras tube station I could hear a fully formed argument in mid flow. A man (out of view) was calling this woman a 'B****' and some other words I can't remember. All I felt at that moment was, 'Here is the world in it's glory and I don't want no part of it'.

Sitting on the tube back I thought and planned how to give my life for the Jesus Army, for this is where I found the kingdom. Then a thought came to me. 

I realised that though intentions can be good, we can end up striving to uphold the practices and name of an organisation whilst forgetting God's agenda. True, to be planted and to have foundations is so important. However, God has also placed in some of us a desire for the culture of the kingdom. The fact is, though I am a part of the Jesus Army, it was neither its name nor its organisational essence that drew me to buy the field. It was the kingdom within it. 

Therefore, to give my life for Jesus Army (or Lighthouse Chapel, the Church of God 7th Day or any other church organisation near or far) would only end in tears; simply because it's not God's calling.  He calls us to live to see his kingdom manifest. He calls us to buy the field in order to live for the treasure inside it.

Deadbeats....

This is a flashback for me of something I wrote but never actually posted. Funny how it speaks to me, almost a year and a half after the event actually took place. Hope it blesses you..
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Today, I went to the council office in Newtown, Birmingham to offer proofs for a reclaim for housing benefit.

The weird thing was that as I approached the desk, I pictured in my minds eye the lady behind the desk. In my daydream, I imagined she was no longer who she was but a girl I knew from school. I said to myself, what if this lady really was my friend from school and as it came to my turn she was the one to serve me? How would my friend from school behave? Would she see us on the same playing field, and this as an opportunity to be able to serve a friend and catch up, or would she look at the situation through different eyes. That since we left school she had made so much more of her life than me, and now I was the one on handouts and she was the one in the position of giving them. It was a funny thought to think, especially as this lady didn't know me from Adam.

When I did get to the desk the lady there obviously wasn't my friend from school. I smiled but she didn't. I was then asked with a laborious tone, 'How can I help you'. Her words said, 'Present your reason for being here', her tone said 'Listen I've been dealing with deadbeats all day, just say what you've gotta say so I can pass you on to someone else and move on to the next customer'. Funny thing was that's actually what she tried to do, to move me on to use the phones, until I brought up someone had sent me here from Handsworth. Then I got an appointment.

What's my point? Sometimes I guess a person comes into a profession with a heart to make a difference, but that zeal and passion gets swallowed up in the thousands who bumble through trying to swing something, the thousands who are not genuinely trying to move on, but just want to get their money. Work then turns into a machine, where a person is trying to get through as many people as possible without seeing the actual people in the process. A heart trying to make change gets swallowed up and often a person fails to see the reason why they got into the career in the first place. The end result is they just get caught up in the same spiral of others. Doing whatever they need to in order to get their money.

When did life become all about living for money? All about a lifeless piece of paper with a dead dignitary on the back of it.

When did it all become about getting one over on another person?
The attitude: I've made more steps than you. I've done more with my life than you have. That makes me better in essence than you, because my value is based on the things I've done with the time I've been given or the places I've got to. The sales and capitalist mentality has crept in so slowly and it seems we've just accepted it. People are based on what they do and where they've got to, rather then who they are. 

Next time you can, if you have the time, talk to the man begging on the roadside. Ask him what his life was like before he ended up on the streets. Ask him what school he went to. What was his favourite subject and what happened to to him to end him up on the street. And realise this is a person who had friends, a home and a family. Not just a tramp.

Maybe some would say, he never had a chance because of how messed up his background was and where he grew up. Maybe he is where he is through his choices. Maybe he was destined to become who he became. But maybe, though there are so many cheats and liars out there, he is like some who genuinely don't fit into the pre-carved box we've made for them....

You never know until you take the time to find out....

Reflections...

My blogs are becoming scarcer and scarcer these days, but I guess I couldn't keep away for always. Inspiration had to come sometime :).

The other day I did a picture college of different people who inspired my faith over the past 3 years. The original collage was quite different from the one you see above as it only contained 7 people in it. After some thought and reflection I realised there were others I had to include. However, there were a number of things I realised after finishing and taking time to look at the original unaltered collage.

The first thing was that except for James Beatt of Abimaro & the free (far middle right), every person was of black heritage.

First I felt 'Oh No! There has to be someone else from some other background I haven't thought to include', yet my mind drew a blank. This isn't because there were none. People like David Wilkerson and John Stott are examples of those who have really inspired my faith, yet are from a different socio-economic background to mine. There is also a brother named Siyamak and a sister named Marie who go to my church- both of whom inspire my faith in the past and present tense and are from different backgrounds to the one I grew up in. However when compiling these pictures only these 7 people came to mind and I think that is for reason.

Naturally people of a certain heritage incline to others of that same heritage, in terms of drawing inspiration and sometimes in terms of other things. For me, I find myself drawing inspiration from people who are black and have reached out in an urban setting because I'm black and I find myself more often than not reaching out in urban settings. The struggles of someone who's been through what I've been through or someone who is passing through something I see God leading me into fascinates me, inspires me and in the end often teaches me valuable lessons. I see the things I learn from such people as comfort for now and hope/help for the future. Ultimately, they show me that someone like me can also break through in my mission field with the gospel message, despite the obstacles.

The second thing that struck me was the fact that there was more women than men in the picture. Only just......but I also found this significant.

I've wrote long Facebook statuses on this in the past so I won't go too deep into it now. The truth remains however that we do need more Godly men, standing up for righteousness and reaching out with impact and without fear in places that are very dark.

The third thing and last thing that I'll mention for now is that all the people in these pictures are ones of reputation. 

In other words people that people know across different groupings and nations. 

What does this mean? Does this mean that the common people don't inspire my faith? May it never be so. It just means that sometimes it is easier to see those stars that are far away, whilst bypassing the ones that are right by you. May God give me eyes to see, and help me not to become too familiar with those he's sent to inspire my faith.

Let there be light...

My heart has been somewhat focused on light and darkness in recent days. I enjoy seeing how bringing a little bit of light into a room, an estate, a poetry jam, or a workplace can change an atmosphere.

Earlier this week, I found myself working alongside a colleague I hardly come in contact with. This man is known affectionately by some as the ‘daddy’ of the company I work in for the simple fact he is older than most of us there and also has a teenage son. The shift was going as normal until it came time for banking. Now I have this knack for getting on the wrong side of people during banking time. People often don’t like the fact I don’t like to cut corners.

Some think this is because I’m a perfectionist. Others think I’m slightly OCD, and some believe it’s a reflection of my faith which causes me to move ‘righteously’ about such things. Though I have a few qualms with the OCD part, the other two conclusions are not too far of the mark.

God calls his people to shine as light in dark places. Though we are not perfect, God has still placed in us something that is different. The truth is that Christians often get worried because that difference unconsciously causes some to not like us, associate with us and even treat us badly for choosing not to go with the tide. Therefore this may lead to some trying to fit in with the crowd. The problem is that, through taking successive steps to 'normalise ourselves' and fit in, the light upon us which was once so attractive slowly begins to dim.

Light can at times be jarring, unsettling people either for good or bad. As well as some being attracted to objects of light when they shine, some people hate the light and will do anything to eradicate it. This may cause them to act in very wicked, demeaning and hateful ways to its carriers.  We have to be ready for this, and combat such reactions with the love God has put inside of us. The solemn truth is that the world needs the light we carry. Without it, they will not be able to find their way to the foot of the cross.

Darkness is creeping across the face of the earth. Sadly, in our times the issue is not a lack of light, but that so many who are called to shine lack the courage or the confidence to shine.

Shining requires us to be seen and to enter into dark places if we truly want to see our light affect people. Shining may mean offence and persecution. It may mean men will hate you and seek to abuse you. People may judge you harshly, simply because you speak the truth you know from God and refuse to pander to ethical relativism and public opinion.

Jesus is still calling us to follow him. He has confidence enough to call both himself and us ‘the light of the world’. The only question is, will we trust his judgement and live the call?

One vote....

At a recent poetry show I learnt a very hard lesson. Let me set the scene.........

Dimmed lights. Bar atmosphere. Poets slamming. Words being spoken from the heart.

A great night, except for one thing.

My honesty was off.

In this event the best poet was chosen by the audience. Each person had a laminated (or not so laminated) piece of paper in their hand and got to vote on whether they liked a piece by raising their card. I found generally the poets were on point. A few I had to leave the card down for, but there were so much good words spoken. However my problem wasn't approving of good poems. It was the pressure to raise my card when people spoke things which in my heart I didn't find inspiring at all.

My reactions could be classified in 3 categories.

1. I didn't want to look like I was hating on someone's piece because I wanted to win. I wanted to look good to others, uncompetitive and ultimately have the heart that I felt a 'Christian should have', one of positivity, approval and encouragement. In other words I wanted to put on a facade.

2. I didn't want to look like the only one in my table who didn't approve of a poem everybody else liked. In my natural instinct I wanted to go with the crowd.

3. I didn't want to look bad in front of someone who'd just done a poem by choosing to leave my card down, especially if we knew each other on some level and they were looking in my direction as the voting was going on. My natural desire was to please people, even if that meant lying.

Now all of these reasons are really rubbish excuses for not speaking the truth. A Christian's life involves encouraging others but also includes reproof and disapproval sometimes when people promote or do things God does not find pleasure in. This can be called 'hating what God hates'. Natural instincts will always be easier, but they never bear fruit in the end.

In the final round there was one particular poem I couldn't find a reason to vote for, no matter how I tried to reconcile it in my head. This poem spoke of a sense of empowerment, but was more rooted in pride and ego than acknowledgement of truth. In my head I said 'I don't like this poem so I won't vote for it', but when the pressure came I once again bowed to the people pleasing.

I felt God quietly rebuke me about not being bold enough to leave my card down once again for a poem which I wasn't inspired by. He showed me the effect of that one vote. The host in the end said I came second and lost by one or two votes. The person who won was the one I hesitantly voted for. God also reminded me of the words spoken in the poem I recited to end that night. It ended with the lines....

And I'm a culprit also when I fail to bring the brightness
God empowers me to speak but still I find I'm quiet
Tears fall as the misery increases
But the prophets mouth is silent, it's silent.
Tears fall as the misery increases
But the prophets mouth is silent, it's silent.....

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I recently had a dream where I was in a football match and I was playing against someone I knew from school days. He was encouraging me to play for a stalemate or to allow his side to win because he was in a bad place. In feeling sorry for him and through doing this I thought, 'I may be able to bring him closer to the Lord'. Therefore we played for a stalemate and whenever I would play in a certain way he would wrench me in my private parts making me bow once again to a sense of allowing him to have his way. In the end however I wised up to what he was doing. Me and my team no longer played the game for a stalemate or a loss in order to draw him close. We played to win.

When we scored a goal he shouted at me, 'You're supposed to be playing for the good of my team because of what I'm going through'. At that point I said to him, 'You know what, you are evil', finally seeing him for who he was and for what he was doing. I realised this was a game that would make no sense if we did not play to win. It was that important.

This struggle of light against darkness is also important. God is showing me that as well as speaking truth, I must be careful not to validate the lie through careless approval or passivity. This is a game which must be played to win.

Poetical thoughts....

Last night I went to 'Word for Word', A monthly poetry shindig in the East End of London hosted by Kat Francois. This month's event made me think on and explore poetry deeper to say the least.

The bill consisted of (yet was not limited to) poems of revolution, street culture, love, hostels, identity and more. With a wide range of performers ranging from a loud Scotsman to a not so loud American, 2 lesbians and an unashamed father speaking of a detailed sexual fantasy (while his 11/12 year old son was looking on from the crowd), all in all there was a lot to ponder on.

I found it interesting that some performers advertised their lifestyles without shame or apology, while some used sentiment and sympathy as their tools to ‘minister’ to mindsets. Other poems spoke deeply to me and made me think about what I was doing with my life. Was I giving myself to the very world system I'd spoken so much against? Had I forgotten the very reason I decided to work in the world? All this left me with a challenge to reassess my purpose and ministry.

The resident poet for the night was Tschaka Campbell. He inspired me in different ways from the norm. It wasn't his subject matter so much as how he said things. His metaphors and those things which you didn't get at first process but you knew were genius. His pain, frustration and feeling in some of what he was saying. How he got to grips with his subject matter, choosing to write what was in his heart without seeking to be too clever.

The interesting thing was, I didn't agree with everything he said, but I can't say I disagreed with everything either. Some points of resonance included his references to Harriet Tubman, the underground railroad and freedom, and the fact that all of us had come out to that poetry event to hear something which would change us.

Lastly, there were a young group of poets named 'Rhythm of men' who totally smashed it with their poem on youth culture, along with a guy named JJ Bola who was sharing poems encouraging others to 'fly' and to become 'men who are real'. 

This whole night made me understand more deeply that God gave us poetry, prose, words and rhyme for a reason. Through expression, creativity, wisdom, study, thought, guidance and challenge we can explore deeper those reasons laid on God’s heart. But as I said, it's more a choice than anything... :)

Fame, honing skills and K Koke....

(Qualifier: Though in this blog and others I may mention some of the music I've been listening to, it may not be good to listen to for those not called to it. Let God lead and use discernment).

Ok ok, when you thought you'd got rid of me.....I'm back!

This is one of those blog posts where I take time to get my thoughts together so please bear with me. I've been reading a lot recently and something which spoke into my heart was honing my craft. Now what does it mean to hone something?

To hone means to sharpen a tool on a fine grained whetstone...or in terms of a craft (a description maybe easier to swallow) to perfect or make more intense or effective. 

Now my craft consists of two things. My spoken word style (including my rap and spoken word poetry) and my barbering skills.

I realised recently in terms of both I still need to learn a lot. My barbering skills were shown up to be somewhat inadequate in my recent trips to barbershops far and wide. Knowing I can cut hair is a great start, but in terms of detail, quickness, ability, proficiency and experience, I know I ain't there yet......at all.

In terms of the music, yeah I can write...a bit. For over 11 years I've been learning how to put pen to pad, growing in lyrical ability, knowing God has most definitely given me this talent for his purposes. However, only over the last two years I've been challenged in the area of subject matter, how deep into my own personal experiences I'm willing to go and how much I'm willing to learn from other lyricists.

This week after being challenged on a work program I decided to focus in on honing my crafts. Starting with music,  I decided that every week I would learn something that is unique to the particular artist I'm focused on for that week. I started with a UK rapper named K Koke today and listened to his mixtape 'Pure Koke Vol 1' after hearing a few promising reviews.

It began as the typical 'hood mixtape' about not dealing with the police, not snitching, keeping a gun handy, selling substances and not saying you do things you don't do. However, for me anyway I was swiftly able to see a person quite transparent, a person who knew what he was doing was wrong, even through all his boasts about it. He mentioned death, thoughts of heaven and even the fact that he knew he was sinning a few times. Through hearing this mixtape I was challenged to think of those outside, those in ends, those who were humble enough to realise what they were doing was wrong. Those who didn't need anyone to tell them they were sinners. They knew it instinctively. Yet through a feeling of it being a necessary evil to survive, they clung to their sin.

I was challenged to think about how this was his life. Not necessarily written with any special effort so people would think he was hard or to portray a hard life but simply because this was his reality. I was challenged thinking that at times I write to sound like I've seen something, or sometimes preachy street commentaries, but he writes just because he lives it. He is authentic effortlessly because he lived the life and his rhymes are the product of his environment.

I have no authority to speak on the same level about such an environment because though I've been in ghettos, experienced the hardship of others for a time, and lived through little things I've never been pushed deep into the experience of  a day to day personal struggle such as people like K Koke who write from a daily reality. If making it in rap is my goal I may easily focus on the things I see, from a very dimmed view, not really caring about getting to grips with other peoples reality, just trying to propogate my stuff in order to get approval. But if I really want to learn about people and really am interested in their lives and really want to see the gospel brought to the poor, I will forget my selfish dreams and get into their reality, whatever that means.

So what if I don't became famous, so what if people aren't appreciating me for songs I've recorded. That should never have been the aim anyway. The right aim should always have been to draw others into the kingdom, not for self exaltation but through being a servant. I want to get to the end saying I lived for people and not for myself. I sought to get to grips with them. I cared for them. I fulfilled the call of God on my life. I loved people, not because of what they could help me with, just because I was called to and the opportunity was set before me. I loved God because I ran after the desire of his heart, which is greater than any other thing this world can offer- including fame and self propagation.

Desire for fame seeks to have me, but God has called me to a greater reward. Help me focus in.