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.