Wednessday 02/10/2013- Friday11/10/2013

8:48pm

So, the meeting with Mike....that was, um, interesting.

Once we were sat down, warm beverage of choice in hand, he took off his glasses, flicked back his long fringe and fixed me with those steely blue eyes of his and and asked me, 'so, how are you?'

I know it doesn't seem it to the casual observer, but this is actually cunning in the extreme. It is what he does best. He gets me to talk about myself.

A little experience with Mike tells me that it is inadvisable to wax lyrical on my life in general. If I do that, I will say something which I had previously thought was innocent. He will raise an eyebrow (while remaining silent) and I will suddenly see it from a whole new perspective (eg; HIS, or at least, what I am imagining is his perspective) and then I will start trying to justify what I have said, thus making myself seem even less holy. I believe the technique he is using could be paraphrased as 'giving them enough rope'. It seems, whatever the subject, I always oblige by hanging myself. It really doesn't take too much rope at all, to be honest.

This time I was determined not to go down this route, unlike last time, when I may have given him the impression that I have a drink problem. I then had to play it down, which made me feel instantly guilty, because I am sure that I could be more careful in that whole area....and now, I may be giving you the impression I have a drink problem. I don't. I do like a glass of something in the evening. Maybe two. Maybe a few evenings a week. Perhaps one or two evenings too many. You see how easy it is to dig this kind of hole?

I know when he asked me this question that the 'drinking problem' could be on the agenda. 'He is going to have to ask me outright, though', I thought. I am volunteering nothing. So I forced him to be specific.

'In what way, specifically, do you mean 'how am I?'', I said. I felt the ludicrousness of this question as soon as it was out, but by then it was too late.

'Specifically', he smiled , pointedly 'how are you generally?'

 

I knew just saying 'fine' would seem evasive or dismissive but the other options would have reverted me back to the initial problem.

'Fine', I said.

He raised an eyebrow and unfolded his hands, extended them, palms up, as if to say, 'go on',

Even a second feels like an eternity. 'Well', I say 'fine. I mean good. Things are great?!'
What things?'

'Well, er, the weathers been OK. I guess and, um, urm, I wrote a song last week, so that's, er good!'

I stayed silent here as I didn't want the talk to expand into uncomfortable things. I waited it out for a moment to see what would happen, and then it came. He put his glasses back on (but low down the bridge of his nose) and Leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on his knees.

'And how is your walk with God?'


Now, my walk with God, is an utter shambles. Aside from my recent attempts to get my prayer life sorted out, I don't tend to read the bible unless I have preparation to do, at least not very often. I have one or two bad habits that I didn't particularly want to share with Mike right then, and I know he has been dying to tackle my over eating ever since we first met. He has made a few suggestions and hints but never directly addressed it. In short, I am on thorny ground here. But then I have an idea. I thought I would get him talking shop', it was way safer, I thought. I was so wrong.

'Actually', I say, surprising myself with the volume and confidence of my own voice, 'I think God has been speaking to me recently!'

Mike beams. ''That's great'

'Yes, it is, isn't it?'

I try and match his beam but I get so transfixed by the hair and the teeth that I forget to expand and it must seem as if I am using his own silent style, on him. We sit for a moment grinning then Mike breaks the silence.

'So, what has he been saying?'

'Oh right, yes, of course. Umm, I think he wants us, to, umm' (I'm stalling here, while I reach for something) 'Umm, to reach out to the unchurched kids of the area. You know, open our doors to the waifs and strays, so to speak. (Mikes face turns from a grin to a grimace here). You know, we're way too comfortable in our ivory towers. We need to, you know, get out of our comfort zones, and er, really make Jesus known because those who aren't called to stay must, um, go....'

Mike pursed his thin lips. In that moment I thought he might be buying it.

To my horror, he bought it. We then had a long chat.

It appears, that with the right team, we may be able to kick something off after half term.

What was I thinking??

I don't even like church kids, let alone the little cretins from the local housing estates.

I have to call him in the morning and tell him I am not the man for the job.

Lord forgive my twisting of the truth to my own ends but it really was the truth, wasn't it? I didn't tell a lie.

I should have lied, perhaps then it wouldn't have backfired so spectacularly.

Sorry Lord, of course I am glad I didn't lie. Shame I couldn't have been honest.

Thursday 03/10/2013

5:00 pm

Not going to youth tonight as I have some 'urgent' babysitting to do. Paul agreed to let me off as he has Adam and Mike said he'd come along and do the 'god slot' at the end. He hates the term 'God Slot' and would only come on the basis that he's come to hang out, to 'incarnate' as he put it. The 'God slot' was something that he was happy to do as part of his incarnational ministry but it wasn't the only reason and it wasn't a 'God slot'. (We invited him so he would do the 'God slot').

So I have nearly an hour to write before heading off to Amber's (Jan's Mum) and I need to give you some context here to qualify yesterdays remarks. I said I 'didn't even like church kids'. That's not true, not at all. I like them, well enough. I can even say, hand on heart, that I love them. When I say I don't like them, I think I meant it more in recognition that I struggle with even the easier part of my calling. The church kids are at least coming from the same world view as me and wont, to the same extent, pick holes in my faith and question my motives. That's baloney, actually. They do all those things, in varying measures. I just feel I have more right to speak to them, and largely, they are respectful, even when they are questioning. I was a church kid. I feel an affinity, I guess that's it, really.

The thought, however, of bringing in a load of bored kids off of the street on a Friday night is a whole different ball game. It fills me with dread and, this time, it isn't fear of the unknown. I have been here before.

I need to lay out, to you, my relationship with youth work. I am not sure I have time right now, but I promise it will be forthcoming very soon. The long and the short of it is, though, that although I am called to be in youth work, currently, I do not feel God has called me, specifically to Youth work, per se. That is, like many others I meet, I kind of fell into it.

But God has been speaking to me about outreach. I just presented it to Mike in such a way that he could assume it was a conversation in which I had been a cooperative participant rather than a reluctant toe-rag Jonah type, which is, more or less, the truth.

Cant wait to see Jan tonight. His mum had her babysitting cancelled at a late hour. She is being cagey about it but I think she has a date. It's a bit weird me going (it wont be the first time I have done this, not by a mile) but its a chance to see my amazing son and, as I missed out last weekend, due to the sleep-over, I cant turn my nose up at it. I think he is planning some kind of board games marathon for me. The best part about being a part time parent (I shouldn't use that expression, I know) is that I get to be the fun one. I will probably let him stay up pretty late. That's a given.

Listening to Grimmy, in the van, this morning. Now I know that he's gay, he seems to sound a little more camp each day. It's like he is playing up to the stereo type, just for me. Amazing I have never noticed before.

Just sent a little text offering to help Paul out a bit with the session he is preparing. Hope he doesn't take me up on it.

Friday 04/10/2013

JJ trashed me in a version of monopoly in which he invented the rules and wrote them on little chance card size bits of paper. The new rules included a lottery and the ability to 'Rob the bank'. He won the lottery 6 times in the course of the game and I, not once. I know my son well, but If I didn't I would say that game was rigged. Still we were in fits of laughter over it. Lovely to see so much levity on that often serious expression of his.

Amber came back late and slightly inebriated. Hugged me a bit too enthusiastically when she came in. Bit uncomfortable, that. Still no harm done, I guess. Seems her date went well.

Gigging tonight. Free weekend, so I can stay out late. I haven't mentioned it here yet, but I am an amateur singer/songwriter. That is to say, I sing the songs I have written. I'm not much of a singer, but I muddle through. There's an open Mic night down at the 'The Eagle is Stranded'. Its an old pub, a couple of miles out of town. It used to just be called 'The Eagle' until this rather colourful character, fresh from a failed smoothie bar business failure in Brighton, bought it a few years back and put his own quirky touches to it. Still, I cant complain as the open mic is his brain child.

We get two songs per performer (unless its a slow night) so I thought I would give them a new one,

'Carry you home' is the working title. It's a bitter-sweet and slightly humorous recollection of all the times I had to come through for Amber when she was passed out, or in a mess. Its about the forgiving nature of love. Its a quite bluesy and soulful. The second one is a kind of folkified version of 'When I survey'. I play it with a fair bit of pace, mind. It seems to go down reasonably well with that crowd, surprisingly enough. In so far as to say, I actually get some applause. Some of it could even be described as enthusiastic. I really need a banjo player to make it work properly. And a singer. That goes without saying.

Watched a little 'Rev' on Netflix. Now Adam, the eponymous revered gentlemen, is a fairly liberal vicar, to say the least. I am in an evangelical tradition and some of the stances he takes, while appealing on some levels really jar with me. Its so frustrating that the most positive Christians in TV shows are usually comedy Vicars. But Adam, in common with Geraldine Granger (Of Vic Dib fame) is a very human character, very real and flawed. The internal monologues (or dialogues depending on your view of prayer) always show him to have a certain kind of integrity to his belief system though. I think I often feel like Adam, adrift in a sea of moral dilemmas and ideologies which clash and occasionally trade off of each other.

Also its just extremely funny.

They do make him a bit too flawed. He does drink and smoke a bit too much.

I'm not sure a 'real' Christian would drink and smoke like that.

Saturday 05/10/2013

 

10:44am

So ashamed. Had too much to drink last night and ended up smoking as a result. By my own hypocritical words I am not a 'Real Christian'. Me and my big mouth/fingers. I cant even be judgemental of fictional characters without it coming back to bite me on the bum.

Not entirely sure what happened. I smoked as a teen and the temptation has never quite left me but I've not done it for years now. I really thought that was over. The gig went well and I was in high spirits. I ran into an old friend, the kind of friend who it almost impossible to say no to. I usually have a two pint rule, which I had already had. Tom, my friend, persuaded me to have one more with him and, like a fool I agreed. I really didn't mean to but I just thought, what's the harm. Three quarters of the way through my third pint (and feeling my legs starting to go) he bought me a fourth, without asking me, and put it in front of me. I don't remember much. I don't even remember starting that fourth pint but I knew, as soon as I saw it, that it was all over. Four pints explains the cigarette. It really is that simple.

Perhaps my confession was prophetic.

Please don't stop reading. Despite this humiliation, I am a real Christian. Honest.

I cant even begin to tell you how sorry I am that I let Jesus down like that. Bad enough making a fool of myself but when I'd been singing about the Prince of Glory only moments earlier and how his love demanded my life, my soul, my all; it felt a hundred times worse.

I'm gonna have to tell Mike. That's all there is to it. Maybe I can get a word with him after church tomorrow. I will confess my raging alcoholism. No need to say anything about the smoking. Lets let him down by degrees, shall we.

Good gig though. Best yet.

All the same, not worth it. Not at that price. Uggh my head. At least I have a free day to recover.

If I even move around the room starts spinning. I'm just going to close my eyes.

3:09pm

Paul just called. He wants to take me up on that offer. Can I prepare an ice breaker game for tomorrow, if possible something that will highlight the differences between the catholic position on transubstantiation and the emblematic approach used by the protestant traditions in the Eucharist, in such a way that he will be able to refer back to it during the talk. No longer than 8 minutes.

I know when he's taking the pee. The session is on Friendship with God.

It's alright Lord, I've forgiven him already.

8:37pm

Spent the longest time ever Scanning 'Invigor8' looking for games which might have anything to say vaguely about friendship. All of the games seem to assume you have about 300 people in your group. 'Split your group into teams of 7, you will need at least 12 teams for this game'. We would normally struggle to even get one team of seven. Maybe the organisations name 'Urbanised Warriors' should have given us a clue. But even in the big cities they don’t have groups that big, do they? Not in this country, surely!?

Eventually found something that might be suitable. We will have to go outside to play it and it involves 30 feet of rope and one hundred eclairs and a porcelain pig. I'm OK with the pig. I can buy sweets in the morning and the Baptist church has such a rope (Possibly for deacons meetings with the pastor). It's going to be tight but I think I can pull this off tomorrow. At least I wont feel like this, any more.

Paul better appreciate this.

Mustn't be late. I am always late.

Sunday 06/10/2013

Manic start to the day. Had to buy the sweets and pick up the rope from the baptists. Allowed plenty of time leaving the house. Church doesn't start till 10am, it's five mins away and I left my house at 9:15.

Local shop in my village didn't have any eclairs. Went to the supermarket in town. Thankfully they were open when I went, at about 9:30. Grabbed two packets of the sticky sweets and legged it to the Cigarette kiosk. They wouldn't serve me until 10am because of Sunday trading laws. What a joke. Why open for 30 mins without being able to sell anything. This is what the letter of the law does; it kills. It was killing me at any rate.

Drove 10 mins to the next town, where there was a 24hour Tesco. They would be able to serve me. Got there at 9:45 grabbed the sweets. Only to find that the 24 hr opening did not exempt them from the Sunday trading laws.

Now I had a new dilemma. If I waited till 10 I would be further away from church by the time I bought them than I would have back in town, which is a couple of minutes from the church. However, if I drove back to town there was no guarantee of getting parking and the cue at the checkout may be worse.

Better the devil you know, I figured. Stayed where I was. Raced back to town, past the local supermarket (which was now open and seemed suspiciously quiet to me). Walked into Church, what must have been half way through the first song and instantly realised that I had forgotten to get the rope.

It wasn't worth getting the car so I sprinted across the town centre to the Baptist chapel. I arrived while their music group were having a run through, with great gusto, of 'Oh Happy Day' where I had to communicate with Geoff, a rather deaf custodian of the church, who neither knew who I was, not had received the messaged from Jessica (Youth worker- who had sworn to me she would sort it out). Fortunately, once I had convinced him of my legitimacy (Honestly it was like trying to get into number 10 to borrow a cup of sugar), he did know where the rope was. When I saw it I rather wish he hadn't known where it was. Coiled up it was about the same size, in mass, as I am, and twice the weight.

Why God, hadn't I bought the car!!!

You could have blessed me with more brains than this.

Arrived back at church just as the youth were leaving the service. Left the rope outside the building and went in to fetch the young people. Hand on door I realised that In my haste to be on time this morning....I had forgotten the Pig.

I was making some mental adjustments as to potential pig-replacement improvisations when Paul stopped me in the corridor.

'Ade', he said sheepishly. 'Don't flip, but we're not going to need your game!'

Felt the molten heat of my anger rising in my veins. I was literally shaking with anger and vitriol towards this idiotic, inconsiderate idle brother God had saddled me with.

Took Paul quietly into the prayer room so I could abuse him properly. I was just about to let rip but he must have sensed it. He clamped one of his huge paws over my mouth and said, 'Let me say my piece first Ade. Just. Hear. Me. Out!'

I nodded.

You Ok?

I nodded again,

I can let go? You'll listen?

One more nod from me, but the frustration was killing me. This had better be good.

So glad he stopped me. It turned out that they had sprung an unscheduled communion on us at the end of the service and the youth were required to serve it. He had been dropped in the same boat as me and had to cut 20 mins of his program. The games always got dropped first. The bible had to be central. That was Paul's way.

If it had been me It may have been the other way round.

Communion was rather beautiful.

I was feeling like a heel because of the whole scenario at The Eagle, on Friday. I went through the usual mental gymnastics I do when I am in a bad place because of sin. I don't want to be a hypocrite and I don't want to white wash over my sin. To just say sorry seems so cheap. I know Jesus paid the price, but sometimes I crave 'pennance' for my deeds. It gives the repentance more meaning if I suffer. At least, that is the way it can feel.

But today, as I bought my sins to God, I realised a couple of things.

Firstly that I was wrong to single out certain sins as worthy of more attention, just because they were obvious to me. There are many sins I commit, maybe daily, that I have never apologised for, possibly never even seen. The nature of grace is that all my sins are paid for.

Secondly that when I come, week after week, feeling fine to approach God because I have no sense of having sinned in some 'great way', (and so rarely feel unworthy), that I am only coming on my own merit. I'm neglecting that grace of God which allows me to approach his throne with confidence. Because of Jesus blood and because he was tempted in every way, as I am, but was without sin. Ive been coming on my own righteousness. But, as he reminded me, quietly in my spirit, my good deeds are like filthy menstrual rags before him. I was only ever allowed to do this because of grace. Anything else is an illusion.

And today that instantaneously cleansing doesn't feel cheap. It feels wonderfully liberating.

Though your sins are as scarlet they will be whiter than snow.

Thank you Jesus.

Nipped in to the village shop to get some gravy granules for Sunday dinner (Posh Sausage, roast potatoes and veg). To my horror, saw where they kept their eclairs.

It was all I could do to refrain from sinking to my knees, arms aloft screaming NOOOOOOOOO!!

Monday 07/10/2013

3:15pm

Actually thankful to get back to making those good ol' tents today. There's something comforting about the predictability of work. Routine is nice, if a little dull.

I'm just sat with my lap top on my lap watching Baby-George sleep in his pram. He is such a placid and adorable little fella.

I let Sue go for a coffee with a mate. I need all the Brownie points I can get right now. Plus I get to raid their DVD collection. Not that that's much to write home about. Think 'The notebook' and 'Faith like potatoes'. Their collection is really just a couple of shelves worth of romantic fair or worthy films. With the exception of Steve's complete Bond collection. Skyfall is just in. Will stick that on in a moment.

Sue knocked on my door after I had been home for half an hour or so and said that Baby-George was sleeping and he'd probably be down for an hour or two. Would It be OK if she nipped to Costa. Miriam, a mutual friend from church, was in a bit of a state (Her mother's undergoing chemo) and needed urgent cheering up. I get the feeling Costa will be mutually beneficial though. And time away from baby-George wouldn't hurt any.

Anyhow, I overheard her and and Steve say they might raise the rent.

I must be extra useful, make myself indispensable.

Gotta go.   Baby-George is stirring. Hope he doesn't wake up.

9:37pm

George screamed when he saw me. Not what he was expecting. Poor chap.

Tried everything to get him back off, all my old dad tricks. He wasn't having it though. Ended up giving him a dose of Calpol, two packets of teething powder, a nappy change and rocking him for about 45 mins. His mum came back just a minute after he started dozing again. My nerves are shredded.

No Skyfall.

Pants. I must be the only person in the western world who hasn't seen it yet. And Baby-George. Naturally.

Didn't spoil the illusion by telling Sue. She bought me a muffin to say thanks. She is lovely. When relaxed and not sleep deprived. Which is to say hardly ever. But lovely none the less.

Tuesday 08/10/2013

Its been a quiet day. Started some preparation for Sundays session. Part 2 in our Friendship with God series.

Nothing much has happened so I thought I would take the opportunity this lull affords by telling you a little more about how I fell into this youth work role.

Years ago, at Bible College (yes, I went) I fell into a great deal of youth work. Our (the students) services were offered out across the city where my college was located and, in this inner city environment an awful lot of the local churches had identified youth work as a community priority and, to their credit, even though their congregations had sometimes, no more than a dozen or so members, most had large youth outreach projects. These were usually run by people who could only be politely described as elderly and usually their were no more than 2 or 3 people involved. So it was no surprise where they thought the need lay, when offered indiscriminate help.

These Friday nights taught my heart to fear. Kids fighting, swearing, mocking, sometimes getting high. I never felt like I fitted in. Always felt like a fake. Couldn't get along side them particularly well (Middle class boy from middle England), couldn't teach them particularly well. Didn't love them like I knew I should. The whole thing felt wrong.

When I left college I swore I would never do youth work again. Don't get me wrong there were some genuine moments of connection. A few vital exchanges. But, for me, these were not enough. I guess I had always fancied myself as a pastor.

On seeking my first church after graduating, I found nothing suitable as a pastorate. I was young and not particularly mature, even for my age. In my naivete I thought my enthusiasm and the sense of a 'calling' (whatever that meant) from God were enough. Of course, I neglected to understand that they needed to be convinced of my calling too.

The only place that turned out to be a fit was a Charismatic fellowship about 30 miles from home. A very similar church to my own. They advertised for a Junior Associate Pastor but the job description made it clear there were to be an awful lot of Youth work responsibilities included. Despite my caution I went for an interview to see what they had to say. They looked at my youth work experience and said that they felt, given my age and experience, that a pastoral role might be a bit too soon for me. They offered instead a Job as a full time youth worker (on a fraction of the salary) with a view to training me to take up a pastoral position in a few years, as the Elder-in-charge (Pastor) was due to retire then. I took the position, despite an uneasy feeling I had, because the church was such a fit for me and because of the locality and the pastoral carrot they were dangling. The money didn't put me off. I was in this for the Lord, after all.

On taking up the youth worker position I found that my responsibilities included ;

• Children's club (7-11)
• Youth club (11-15)
• After school drop in club
• Running the Christian Union at our local secondary school
• 16-25's House group
• Assemblies
• Youth Sessions on Sunday
• Monthly Youth friendly worship service
• some preaching
• Retreats and camps
• Youth Outreach

To say the least there was a lot on my plate. I lasted just over a year. I received no pastoral training and very little pastoring for myself. I lived in one of the Elders shoe box spare room, for which I paid a token rent, so I was never able to get away from the situation. I went from one meeting to the next, scribbling preparatory notes on the bus as I went. On seeing I had no discipline, they simply insisted that I have a meeting with another of the elders on a daily basis, which did not actually help me organise myself, but did ensure that I had even less preparation time.

I left that church a washed out mess. My faith had become flimsy, my understanding was dry, my experience drier still and I was exhausted. Exhausted and disillusioned.

Now I had totally sworn off youth work. I would never touch it again. Or so I thought.

In the interim years I met Amber, a woman, who, though from a Christian family, never really prioritised Christ. I fell in love. We got married and 'settled down', to some extent. Although I never lost my faith completely I drifted in my heart and there were many dark times for me. For a few years, I stopped going to church altogether. It was never intentional. We moved and I didn't find a new church that suited me, after a few months I stopped looking. My thoughts of Ministry were all but forgotten.

When January was born I started going to church again. I think it was part of the whole 'taking responsibility' thing that new parents do. I knew I had let it slip and I knew that I wanted to bring my son up in a loving church environment, like the one I had been blessed to have. And I wanted him to know Jesus.

We had moved back to our home town to be nearer babysitters. (I mean family!). I started attending the local Anglican church in the village and became very happy with the richness of the liturgy and hymns and the acres of personal space that I was allowed to enjoy there.

And then, when January was 3, Amber dropped her bombshell. She thought she might be in love with someone else and she had to give it a real chance. She ended our seven year marriage then and there. There was no persuading her. It was over.

Now, I was devastated. Utterly heartbroken . In some ways, I am still reeling from the shock of it, even now. But in time I began to acclimatise to this new life. I hadn't chosen it. I would have done almost anything to save my marriage but it was stupid to not move on, to not take advantage of the freedom it afforded.

On one of the rare occasions the vicar, Rev Mayhew-Mathers (Or Mrs Mayhem, as she was sometimes unofficially known to her flock) actually asked me to do something, it set in motion a chain of events that led me to where I am now.

She had asked me to stand in for one of our regular youth volunteers who had gone sick at the last minute. They needed someone to person the tuck shop, as the Vicars attentions would be required elsewhere. On being assured that all I would have to do was sell a few sweets (and the strict understanding that this was to be a one off) I agreed.

On that night they had a guest speaker. A full time Youth worker from a local Charismatic church. The moment she walked through the doors of that dingy old church hall she lit it up with a warm radiance that emanated from somewhere deep inside. The place was dank and musty but when she arrived I could have sworn it smelt of flowers and cake-mix.

Her name was Daisy Hughes. She had brown eyes, dirty blond hair (I call it mud honey) and the sweetest smile. And though she wasn't exactly conventionally beautiful I couldn't take my eyes off of her. There was something about the way she just engaged everyone. You could tell she cared. When she spoke to people, they had her full attention.

She was in some sense quite plain looking but when she spoke about Jesus she transformed before my eyes. She glowed. And as she glowed something in the cold ashes of my desolate heart sparked back into life. I felt a yearning I'd not felt since the early days of my marriage, If I am honest.

I knew I would follow Daisy to hell if she asked me.

Yeah. I had it bad. About a month later I switched churches.

I may have been in love but even I knew I was damaged goods. I resolved not to rush anything. If this thing was right and from God (I reasoned) it would happen in his perfect timing. Daisy and I became friendly, if not exactly friends, but our conversations were restricted to coffee after church. I didn't push it.

Then Church asked for volunteers for the youth team. Like a shot I signed up. What they had neglected to say is that they were looking for people to bolster their numbers because they were about to lose someone. Daisy. I found this out after just 2 weeks.

Daisy was leaving to get married. MARRIED!! I didn't even know she had a boyfriend. The Church had just undergone a financial review and had decided, for the time being that they could no longer afford a full time youth worker.

To have left the moment Daisy did would have been shockingly selfish and, I suppose I didn't want to admit to myself, let alone for anyone else to notice, that I had only joined the 'team' for the sake of being near to her. But that is the truth of it.

I thought I'd give it six months (to make it look good) and then bow out gracefully, when no-one was looking. By the time six months came round, the married couple who were on the team moved to Scotland and our 'team' went from 4 to 2. Paul and I. My one Sunday in 6 became 2 in 4.

I did stay partly out of guilt but, in truth, I began to enjoy it too. Sometimes. And it gave me purpose. And if I didn't do it who would? I think many youth works have started for similar reasons. I came to think that if I wasn't called to youth work, then I was called to work for these youth, for this time.

And God has never really called me away from that for the last 7 years. That's How I am here now.

I am still friends with Daisy on facebook. It kills me on a regular basis but she seems ridiculously happy and in love.

Sorry. Didn't mean to write a complete biog there. It just kind of happened.
So now you know. I am not called or anointed. Just ridiculously shallow.

Ran that by Sue just now. She said, 'maybe not ridiculously shallow. Perhaps just moronically romantic'.

I think that was a compliment.

Surely.

Wednesday 09/10/2013

Beautiful sunny day today. Made tent-making a pleasure. It was crisp and sunny in that way only Autumnal days can be. Watched the cattle train taking all the commuters off to stagnate in their pens all day. Hah. Wage slaves. Felt like drawing my finger across my throat like that kid does in Schindler's list. The poor folk looked like they already knew they were condemned. Cruel thought of mine. I guess it's probably born of jealously at their affluent and comfortable lifestyles.

So glad I work outside. I maybe poorly paid but at least I get to feel the wind on my skin.

Jan texted me from his mums phone to say he was making plans for the weekend. This probably means some new game he will thrash me at. But it's great. It means he is looking forward to seeing me.

Feeling really blessed right now. God is good. All the time.

Thursday 10/10/2013

 

Why didn't I go to Uni and get a decent Job.

It rained all day from start to finish. My waterproofs were so warm that they cooked me from the inside, so I was wet from sweat before the inevitable weak points in their structure began to tell and water ran in from around the neck line and, bizarrely from my under arms.

Watched all the commuters on the early train. They seemed today to be sneering at me or looking rather smug. Wished I'd been off to a nice warm dry office.

Reminded myself that 'All the time, God is good'. Slightly less enthusiastic about it today though.

Youth was good. PTL. We had 8 this week. A couple of friends came along, don't think they were believers. They seemed to like it.

Ironically, I find, when we have their non-Christian friends it seems to be the church kids who act up. I think they might be a bit embarrassed. One of the new lads, Harry, was listening intently to Paul's God bit.

Perhaps this outreach idea, isn't such a bad one.

Perhaps.

Finally got to speak to Adam about his language. He took it in his stride, which isn't like him. He is usually quite defensive. Seemed a bit down tonight. I wonder what's up with him.

Paul told me, as we were clearing up, that the latest thing in celebrity endorsements to hit the market was them putting their names on alcoholic drinks that suited their style.

He said the newest one was called Russell Brandy.

That can't be true. Can it?

Friday 11/10/2013

5:30 am

Just a quick entry to say I am not going to write for a few days. JJ Is coming tonight and will be with me till Sunday afternoon. I'm focusing on him for the duration.....and of course the remaining prep I have to do. I will give you a summary of the weekend when I write on Monday.

By the way, Russell Brand is T-total. I knew that. Paul is such a wind up.

Thursday 25/09/2013- Wednessday 02/10/2013

Note to readers; Decided to post my entries weekly, rather than daily.

Thursday. 26/09/2013

Just time to jot down a few thoughts before I crawl into bed.

Youth- 7 (5 boys, 2 girls)

Activity- Film night

Youth leaders- 3 (Paul Brownstone, 34, Adam Armstrong, 16, and myself, old)

The stated goal- Socialisation and group identity building through films which will re-enforce spiritual and moral points with a view to opening discussions.

The film- Anchor man

The unstated goal- To give the youth team an easy night once a month, with as little preparation as possible.

The result- A food fight which was closed with a prayer.


Lord, have mercy.

Nick Grimshaw, Gay??

Friday 27/09/2013

10:00 am

Writing this from my phone, on my coffee break.

Bleary eyed and with coffee in hand, I checked facebook this morning, before leaving to make tents. It's a compulsive habit with me now.

Rather shocked to see, through blurred vision and coffee steam, what was posted at a rather late hour on Adams account last night. Something involving female genitalia that I could not possibly begin to repeat here. Adam is one of our most promising youth. He really got zapped by God at 'Spiritual Survival' last summer. He approached me about being a leader after getting a prophetic word about his 'ministry'. Our pastor, Mike, wisely said we should put him on a probation, with heavy supervisory emphasis. Adams enthusiasm is equalled only by a certain immaturity. Lovely, lovely guy. Utterly driven by testosterone.

Why do they want to be 'friends' with me when they know they're going to post stuff like that? They have to know I will be reading it, surely?

Perhaps I am not the strict and respected authority figure that I hoped I'd be to them.

Oh no, I've become a friend. Pants. All is lost.

I have a child free weekend this week. January is staying at his friends for a sleepover and he asked if he could be let off this week. Seeing that I have all that preparation to finish, on discipline, I wasn't too worried. I told him it was fine.

I hope I didn't sound too pleased. I love that boy.

YES. January! That is his name.


5:23 pm

He would be here by now. God, I miss him. Was I too hasty. I can always put the preparation in, once he is in bed. Why did I say yes?! No, it's good to keep a light hold on things. He's growing up fast and he has so few friends. Its a good thing when he wants to branch out, of his own volition. It was good to encourage it.

Doesn’t feel good right now. #lonely

Been following Adams post today on my smart phone. Bad idea. All his friends are commenting too now and they are just getting ruder and ruder. Such detail. I mean, when we were kids we were vulgar but I just don’t remember it being quite that....er...graphic. I blame the Internet.

A word on January's name. His mum was a bit of a hippy. She chose it. He wasn't Born or conceived in January by the way. No, it came to her because that was the month in which she thought of his name. Seriously. 

She was very crafty about the naming thing. I am almost certain she planned it. We always planned to have two kids and we agreed that we would take turns choosing a name. The plan was that She would choose the first name of the first child and I would choose the second name, then for the next one, we would swap around and I would get to choose the first name.

We only had the one child.

His second name is Jeremiah. He goes by 'JJ'. I call him Jan, mostly. In hindsight, its a bit girly. But it didn't feel like that when he was a baby. And then it stuck. At least in my head, it did.

6:00 pm

Adam just came on line. And chatted for 5 mins. He was reassuring in the extreme. I feel so stupid. He hadn't written that obscenity at all. It was a 'frape' (Facebook rape; The practice of hacking into someones facebook account to post false status updates, for humorous or malicious intent). This generation are rather liberal in their use of the word 'rape'. I once heard a year seven kid claim he'd been raped, when actually he was referring to the fact that the kid in front of him, took the last chocolate biscuit, while he was in the queue for coffee, after church).

I feel like such a git for not having had more faith in Adam. He is making such progress with the Lord.

Reflecting on last night, I think we can learn lessons on two points. One; Choose better films (not that Anchor Man isn't hilarious). Two; Crack down hard on any pop-corn throwing, the moment it starts. It should NOT be tolerated, least of all because Mr Morris (the Major), our caretaker, is a bit of an eagle eyed dictator and no matter how many bits of pop corn kernel I have extracted from the grate in the top of the radiator you can always be sure there will be at least one more. And he will have me for it, you can be sure.

In future, I need to get to the culprit faster and stamp on it before it escalates like that, again. Next time I will be watching Paul like a hawk.


11:46

Adam just commented on his frape post. He used one small pithy, though hardly eloquent, phrase. He wrote; **** off.

Note to self; have gentle but firm word with Adam, where you do not come over as a hypocrite or judgemental but at the same time let him know that his behaviour is sinful, that you are watching him and that his verbal behaviour needs to alter, online and off. Remind him of his responsibilities as a youth leader. Keep the vibe chilled, though.

Saturday 28/09/2013

Spent the whole day, in between bouts on Netflix and facebook. trying to make sense of 'Invigor8's resource on discipline. Well, the whole day from about 11am (not counting lunch break). For a start they seem to supply about 15 introductory games per session, each requiring a months worth of newspaper clippings, a power point presentation (backed up with relevant clips and songs), with the equipment needed seemingly having to be sourced from thirty different places, some of which may as well have been from a small organic fair-trade co-operative in a village situated in the foothills of the Andes, a mere days donkey ride from the nearest small airport. The monetary value of which (which they term 'affordable') comes to the equivalent of about a months wages of a minor football player in the premiership.

The purpose for all of these games is stated as being Just for laughs.

I somehow think that the resource that caters for today's modern volunteer youth leader under pressure (And claims to simplify Youth work by doing most the hard work for you) has lost its way a little.

Decided in the end to focus on the bible.

God disciplines those he loves.

Sunday 29/09/2013

7:37 am

Woke up on my bed with that particular page in Hebrews, covered in my drool and stuck to my face.

I still haven’t decided which prayer action to include or which game to use for the session. I can always do that in the next few hours as church doesn’t start till Ten. The main thing is the bible. Although I don’t have a talk nailed yet, I feel I have soaked up the scripture. Actually some of the text has been printed onto my face where I rested on gods word. So literally soaked it up, too.

Now to get a few things firmly down on paper.

12:30pm

Disaster. At least, near disaster.

I always get this thing, whenever I have something to do in a limited amount of time. First, having plenty of warning, I vow that this time will be different; that I will do the bulk of the preparation at an early stage so as to avoid exactly the scenario I am about to describe to you. Second, I attempt to look at the material, some point early in the week, but give up after a very short space of time because I still have days and days to prepare. I justify this by saying that at least, somehow, I have soaked up some of the themes and my subconscious will be working on them until I come to prepare for real. Thirdly, I allow this 'plenty of time' excuse (feeling self satisfied that I have, at least, started it) to take me up to, usually, the day before. Forgetting, usually, that I have Jan on Saturdays (which is normally the day before) and so, cannot realistically do any preparation until the evening. By the time I've seen Jan off to bed I am shattered. I sit down to prepare and, within half an hour or so, start to fall asleep. Waking up at stupid o'clock I panic and attempt to re-engage with the material. Shortly it becomes apparent that my brain is beyond working and I would be better off starting again in the morning. (I have a habit of waking before 6, due to my tent making) as I will still have three hours or so before church.

Now, three hours with a functioning conscious brain, is more than enough time to prepare the material but my brain can not be described as functional before 8 and a bucket of coffee (nor can it be accurately described as conscious). I start to wake up around 8-8:30, I have half an hour or so of productivity and then the panic starts to kick in. Once I start panicking I cannot concentrate for love nor money. I simply cannot take it in, nor order my thoughts.

It is usually at this point that I turn to serious prayer. Deep repentant, begging prayers.
Now, aside from the absence of Jan, This is what happened this morning. Indeed the only thing that stuck in my head, was that 'The Lord disciplines those he loves' and, while that was reassuring, It wasn't going to get me very far.

I thought of the group. We usually have half a dozen or so. If everyone turns out we may get between ten to twelve. But that hardly ever happens. The Harper's are away, (family wedding) so that's two down (Rachel and David) and Simeon has football. That leaves the group at about three. Maybe four or five, If I was really unlucky. At least, I consoled myself, there weren't going to be too many young people to witness my humiliation. Again. Now, if I can bribe Hephzibah (Pastor Mikes daughter)to keep it on the down-low, I may just get away with this.

The Harper's came home this morning and decided to come to church. I mean, WHO does that!!? Not only did they come to church but they bought two cousins back from the wedding. Simeon had an injury from a hockey game and so was unable to play football. Evidently his Mum was wielding the heavier of her axes this morning because he came along to sulk in some corner or other. Looked very sorry for himself.

AND Josh was back from Uni (probably to get his washing done) and had brought his girlfriend with him (evidently she was running out of clean underwear too!).

In total we had Thirteen. That's the highest number we've had for about ten months. 'Thanks a lot, Lord', I thought, rather ungratefully. I mean, obviously it's a real privilege to have them all but WHY, oh WHY, today?

I bumbled my way through a few games with them and then, the dreaded moment came for my talk. On discipline. The irony is not lost on me.

It was a shambles, in many ways but I anchored our discussions in the verse that I read what now seems like an age away, last Wednesday.

Then something almost magical happened. The holy spirit took over. Instead of a talk on the need for being disciplined it became, in part, a confession of my own weakness in this area and we started exploring what it means that his love causes him to discipline us. And what 'discipline' means. Essentially he is teaching us and often this doesn't mean he shields us from the consequences of our actions but, rather he teaches us through facing them, my talk being the prime example. We talked of how he loves us too much to simply leave us as we are, that like the loving parent that he is he faces all aspects of our lives with us and shows us the way to go, if we, like the scripture says, are willing to be trained by it. And that, I concluded, produces a 'harvest of righteousness' in our lives.

I know when God has spoken through me like this, because there is no way It could have been me. This week, more than most weeks.

It was good to see Josh again. I hope he's not partying too hard. We had a talk about finding a church and getting established in a CU. I am worried that he's not too motivated to do that, just yet. His girlfriend seemed nice. Not sure if she is a believer or not. She seemed to listen intently. The Harper cousins were good to have too. Gregarious and confident, like the rest of the Harper's, they really helped keep the discussion going. Thank you Lord. Please give me a teachable spirit.

 

Forgot to have a word with Adam.

Pants.



10:56 pm

It's not like he's particularly camp, is it? I mean, some extremely camp people are straight. Some straight seeming people are extremely gay. It's so hard to tell.

Monday 30/09/2013

Slow day today. Spending sometime today getting my prayer life back on track. After last weeks fiasco I need to make sure I am 'trained by it'.

Meeting pastor Mike on Wednesday.

Not that the two are at all related.

Though it doesn't hurt to feel a bit holier.

Tuesday 01/10/2012

Since turning 40, time seems to have its foot firmly on the gas. Its like 40 is the top of the hill and now the snowball is rolling down instead of up and I almost cant keep up with it. Its set to get worse, I am told. Cant believe its October, already. The month of my birth. Still, 41 doesn't feel like a big deal. I think I'm over worrying about my age now. That must be how it is, once you're forty.

Had a nice PM (personal message), from Josh, on the book of the face. Said he got a lot out of Sundays session and thanks for all the work I must have put in. Also said he'd spoken to a mate about going to CU together. PTL

Good time in prayer today. Felt I went a little beyond the list of requests I usually mechanically spew out. I even tried a bit of worship. Had some headphones on and sang along to some Redders on Spotify. 10,000 reasons. Bless the Lord, O my soul. Great stuff.

Not too sure my house-mates enjoyed my rendition of 10,000 reasons. I think Sue doesn't need one more reason to kill me. I was singing a 'bit on the loud side' she said in her Christian, passive aggressive way. But I could see the threat in her eyes. I woke up Baby-George, apparently. Oops. Still, at least I resisted telling her to look on it as an opportunity for growth in the area of forgiveness and grace. I would never do that again. I wonder if they will ever be able to simply call him George rather than 'Baby-George'.

Perhaps he will simply graduate to Boy-George and then, later  Man-George. Who's to say.

What if in later life he had a sex change?

Woman-George? Lady-boy-George?

He's just a baby. Stop it, Adrian. Stop it NOW!

Wednesday 02/10/2013

3:00pm

 

Just a quick entry before I dash off to See Pastor Mike (Or 'Pass the mic', as Paul calls him).

I think all will go well. Feeling pretty Holy today. Well, holyish.

I hope he doesn't ask about strategy or anything. He's a nice guy. I don't know why I am terrified of him. It seems like he just sees right through me. He's actually 2 years younger than me but I feel about seven when I meet with him like this. I must remember he has my best interests at heart. He is, in no way, trying to trip me up, or get me to confess my deepest sins. He is simply tying to support us. More later.

I hope Hepzi kept her mouth shut. That Chocolate Orange should have done the trick.

25/09/2013

Had a busy day yesterday, once 'tent making' was over. Although it was technically what I jokingly refer to as a 'free afternoon'. For once I actually did something useful. That is if you think farting around on the Internet and setting up a vanity project, which is 'vacuous in the extreme', is of any value. I do. Or, at least, that is to say I do but not without some reservations. Anyhow, I'm not one for planning ahead. Carpe Diem and all that. Oh yes, that is SO me. Although I get the feeling that when Robin Williams stood on his desk (or was it someone else) and told them all they'd be food for worms one day and they should buck up their ideas and take life by the wotsits (I'm paraphrasing here) he didn't have in mind sitting around from 2pm to midnight, eating Pizza, Ben and Jerry's and playing Black Ops. but some times, on dark, dark days, Captain, Oh my Captain, seizing the door to the freezer with one hand and the console controller with the other, really IS seizing the day.

Not that I did any of that yesterday. My 'living in the now' actually stretched itself to the dizzying heights of creativity. Not only did I set up this blog but I also (drum roll please) set up a TWITTER account. One friend of mine refers to it by another, similar sounding name that is an extension of a four letter word. We will see.

Its getting late and so the few things to say about twitter and social media I must save for tomorrow. Or possibly later. Or possibly never.

A word on today. Shattered.

Thought about preparing the session for Sunday, on the subject of Discipline. Thought really hard for all of ten minutes. Started to read the resource material until my eyes went blurry and my brain felt like cotton wool. Checked facebook just to see if any of the young people were on chat. Three hours later I am scrolling through the same kitten strewn posts of inanity that I have been for the previous three hours, waiting for someone to respond to a comment of mine. That's when sense prevailed. Not productive. Where are all the young people these days? Surely not Google+!! Not one of them on facebook today. It's like it's not cool anymore. Er, I mean' sick'.

Turns out, doing nothing is exhausting.

Have to talk to Paul about changing our resource supplier. I am not sure 'Invigor8' is engaging enough.

Found out today that Nick Grimshaw, host of the radio one breakfast show, is gay. I have absolutely no gaydar. None whatsoever.

Don't expect an entry tomorrow. It's youth night. Paul is running the show. No prep but It will take me all day to psyche myself up to it, and after I'll just be licking my wounds. More on that later.

Lord, (I feel like Ronny Barker at the end of 'Open all hours'. ALL the current contemporary cultural references here! ALL of them) Please for give my idleness and Idolatry (re facebook) and help us, somehow to reach some of these young people for you tomorrow, some of them are quite nice. Get me in a head space where there is not quite so much space in my head, if you know what I mean. Thank you for grace. I couldn't survive without it God. 'Without me you can do nothing', you said. You knew what you were talking about. I sometimes think you included that verse just for me. Anyhow. Night Lord. God bless, If you can bless yourself.

 I'm tired, this is nonsense.

I'm out.

24/09/2013

Hi, I'm new to this blogging thing and you are new to me, so I will just set out my stall, so to speak.

I'm Adrian Betts. People call me Ade so, in a sense I am both Ade and A. Betts. Sorry, I had to get that out of the way. Had it all through school and I have been a volunteer youth worker for the last ten years or so, so the teasing, abuse and bullying has just continued, really. What can I say? I am a glutton for it.

I am also, to my shame, something of a glutton in another less savoury (in that I have a sweet tooth) sort of way. Okay, I like the savoury too. I LOVE food, almost any food (But never the food of Satan, that is the aubergine). Also, not good on the teasing side of things.

I'm a little camera shy, given, not in a small part, to the aforementioned flaw. So I don't imagine I will be posting pics. Also for legal reasons, should I need to distance myself from this account of events, it might be safer (joke, sort of). So imagine, if you will a tall stallion of a man, of muscular physique, with piercing blue eyes and a fine lions mane, streaming back from my noble head in a fine sea breeze as I stand majestically.....sigh. Now reverse all that and you might have it just about bob on. Portly (FAT), thin on top (BALD), of average height (SHORT), eye colour; nondescript. My Mum used to say they were almost turquoise. But she always flattered me. They're not exactly blue (too much grey for that) and not exactly grey (they have some green in).

My day job is best not gone into. At least not yet. Lets just say I call it 'tent-making', so as to facilitate my true calling, providing the apostle Paul was paid the 1st century equivalent of £6.70 an hour for his manual efforts. I mean, who says he was a good tent maker. We all just assume, because he was so good at everything, that he produced the latest range in middle eastern glamping, the Versace of tents. For all we know they were just two bits of cloth and a broom handle. Sorry, where was I? Best leave that in, so as to make it more, er, real. Or just for LOLs, as my youth say. Oh yes my true calling, which may be youth work, or not. I will let you know when I get the call.

I suppose, I decided to take up blogging to pass on my pearls of wisdom re youth work or for personal and therapeutic reasons. I'm not entirely sure. It's either going to be a 'how to', or a 'how not to' guide to all things yoof. Oh, and, of course, to bring glory to Jesus. How could I forget? I suppose I intend to do that by covering myself with big brown lumps of shame so that he may appear all the shinier and stuff.

And the other reason, well, I'm called Adrian. There's somewhat of a tradition of diarists with the misfortune to share my name. It kind of suggested itself, really.