The Night Before…
Why, oh why am I up writing this when the 8am ferry beckons? I like the night before an adventure: packing, squirrelling away essentials as well as random items you never know when you might need, checking the passport is in the bag for the thirty-seventh time (as if it may have come to life and snuck away while my back was turned), getting distracted with banalities, extricating washing from the machine, hair-drying it in vain hope of being able to wear it tomorrow, worrying that I can’t find the socks I want to take (not just any socks… they’re trip-specific), writing lists of things I must remember at silly o clock tomorrow, charging camera batteries (because I will take four hundred and twenty-two pictures of things only I find intriguing), checking the weather forecast before packing hat and gloves (and chucking them in anyway, for safety’s sake), wondering if it’ll be like it was in the book I just read (cue another rose-tinted reverie), making cups of tea and then forgetting them, emailing, stashing notebooks in my backpack in the hope that the trip sparks some creative marvels, just generally skipping along excitedly.
I am excited about this. I am looking out for the little things that are in store over these next few days. I am ready for a break – its been a long summer. I’m excited about the potential for connections, and the timings, and about proper coffee and bijou boulangeries 
Last week there were French policemen twinning with British ones here in the city – a sign if ever there was one!
Spree
Last weekend, I had the privilege of heading down to near Haywards Heath for ‘Spree’, an event run by Urban Saints, for young people and youth groups.
I’ve been home a few days now, and post-event its easy sometimes to just move on, get overwhelmed with normal life, forget the good things that happened and the stuff God did and said. I don’t want to do that. Also, this weekend I’m off to do a similar thing at New Wine, and I want to process and record the good stuff of the last weekend before I move on to the next, if that makes sense.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Spree. Usually, at events run by the Salvation Army, I’ve always been happy to hide behind those who are heading up the team, but this time I was doing that. It was the first time they’d had a prayer team, and the first time any of us had been to the event. We also ran two seminars as part of the programme: Prayer Styles, and Hearing God. I was a little nervous about these
My fears were unfounded though, and it truly was an awesome weekend. I think the ‘new’ness of it all gave us a freedom and creativity – the space to improvise. It meant we could make decisions like taking team debriefs out of the prayer zone (which was a bit set back from where the main events were taking place) and into the leaders zone, or out on the main green. I think prayer teams should be visible.
In terms of team, I was blessed by the group of lovely people who helped me lead the event through: Phil, Richard, Sarah, Mandy, Vanessa and, not forgetting the lovely Kieran, who, at ten years old, had a bit of a baptism of fire, and became our official prayer team ‘groupie’. We were also blessed by a bunch of guys from Thanet, who just showed up with the desire to help and serve. They became an essential and integral part of the team. I really love the dynamic of a prayer team. I love the sense of community and the feeling that you have experienced something significant together. I love it that by the end of the event, there is a sense of unity and family with the people you are serving with, so much so that you miss them achingly in the days after. They were all lovely and brilliant, and it was fab to step back at moments and just observe God using them all in different ways. They’re kind people too, and we stuck together in those inevitable moments of exhaustion!
The event itself was amazing. I’ve been to a lot of events, and seen God do some cool things, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen young people responding the way they did this weekend. Usually at an event like that, the Friday evening meeting can be a bit distracted, then Saturday builds up to the evening, where there can be that awesome sense of stuff really going on, before Sunday tails off again, but, from the word go on Friday, these young people just responded in droves. Every night there were so many that we couldn’t pray for them all individually, and on the Saturday night, when the speaker was talking about forgiveness and cleansing, about 3/4′s of the young people responded, and the sense of God moving in that room was incredible. Its so exciting to know that God was doing important things there, things that could shape those young people for the rest of their lives. The speaker was fab: funny, engaging, real and without self-importance and performance. he presented the gospel in such a relevant way, and really ‘won-over’ the audience with his style and funny stories.
There were other really cool answers to prayer too – ranging from the recovery of missing possessions, to there being gravy one dinner time. It was so much fun to stop team members randomly across the site and pray with them, to be gathering and hearing God for the event, and discussing future vision stuff. I loved it, I loved it all.
Personally, significantly, for me it was the first time I’ve served in that way since leaving my employment with the Salvation Army. When I left my job to come to uni, some people thought that was a crazy idea – to leave a job which gave me a certain degree of influence, to move to a random city and do very ‘little’, or tangibly little, perhaps… but I’d reached a place where I knew it was right to lay it down. I didn’t want to get to a place where my sense of worth or identity came from what I did, and, I always referred back to a significant prophetic word I’d been given when it all started, back in 2006, that as my ‘influence’ rose, so I would ‘go down’. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but as things panned out, it felt like it was about that ‘him becoming greater, me becoming less’ thing. I didn’t want to build something that was about me in anyway, I didn’t want to become safe in that place, in that desk at THQ, in that job title, or that name in print on a resource. So I gave it back to him. I’d loved it, I still felt passionate about prayer, and prayer in the Salvation Army, but I thought that maybe it was the end of a season. I was tired, too, and needed some fallow time.
When I moved here, I was surprised, pretty soon, when a lovely prophetic friend, ‘Shepherd-Wizard’ (thats not his real name) gave me another word about tractors and fields (well, this is the countryside, I thought to myself…) The gist of it was that I had been gleaning in other people’s fields, but that I would get my own to plough up and sow in and tend. I was strongly reminded of that this weekend, back doing something I love, and this time not having the safety and comfort of hiding behind someone else as the team leader.
As part of the Hearing God seminar, we did that glorious activity of using random items to prophesy over each other. (My favourite occasion of this game was in Colchester, and involved a soap shaped like a camel, but this time we had to stick to stuff we’d found around the site). Again, a lovely team member friend came up to me with a beautiful, downy feather, and talked about this being a season where the things God has for me are light, not the seemingly heavy burdens of the past twelve months or so. That was such a beautiful and encouraging word.
The last glorious (if not a little freaky) sign that happened, was right at the end of the event. I was walking across the site with one of my fellow team members, and we’d been talking about how it had been cool to have people on the team who were from a Salvation Army background, but also those who were not. It made for a beautiful mix. We’d just been in the debrief, and it had come up that maybe this was something God wanted me to continue in, which I had been thrilled about, and so we were just chatting around that stuff. Anyway, so he went into the toilet block (oh the glamour of this story) and I waited outside in the sunshine. And, at that moment, a Salvation Army van drove up (it hadn’t been there the whole weekend), and the man who got out asked for the guy from Urban Saints who had oversight of the event… if that wasn’t a clear sign of the melding of the different worlds then I don’t know what else could be!
When I lived in Wandsworth, the picture or metaphor I ran with during my time at the Boiler Room was firstly a joist, and then secondly a tealight holder (lol). Since getting here, I’ve been asking for that equivalent picture. And then a couple of months ago, it came, in some discussions about bridges between here and the rest of the uk, between my church and the national elements it is involved in. This weekend made me think that that bridge extends across denominational streams and boundaries too. And I think its the kind of roll up bridge that you take around with you. Its not some weird, solid concrete structure. Its kind of ‘indiana-jones’ rickety. I like that.
Post event days can be tough… you’re out of that atmosphere of the miraculous. You’re not starting every morning with a stonking worship session. You’re back home, back in the everyday. I’ve also been aware that for me, these days are in-between days. I’m in between so much at the moment, and thats not always such a comfortable place to inhabit. But I am making the conscious effort to remember all that happened this weekend gone, and all that God promised through it. It thrills me to think of those young people travelling home, with huge transformations having taken place in their lives. I’m praying for them as they get back into their everyday routines too.
I will finish with a picture of the most foliage-tastic prayer venue ever:
Daughters Of Jerusalem
Psalm 68:18, Song of Songs 3:6
O you daughters of Jerusalem,
Come clothe yourselves with praise.
See the chariot of your King
Has borne you from the wilderness.
And how the fragrance of His oils anointing
Purifies our humble sacrifice!
And we with singing, return to Zion,
The captives in Your train.
Copyright © 1998 Daybreak Music Ltd.
Roots – Post 2
Maybe it is the second or third time you do something that you begin to just do it out of habit and routine. The fear and trepidation starts to diminish and it becomes ‘just Roots’. And you still look forward to it, but without that sense of ‘anything can happen here’. And Roots was always such a blur of intensity for us, from Wandsworth – staying up late and dreaming up crazy creative plans, scouring South West London for lights for a menorah, eating sleeping and breathing an event, so much so that when we got there it sometimes felt like a bit of an anti-climax.
(To explain, for any non-Salvation Army readers, Roots is a conference that is held by the movement each year in Southport. We usually head up the prayer venue. Last year we had a sabbatical year and so the event didn’t take place. This year it was back with a vengeance, reshaped, rebranded and hopefully freshened up. It took place last weekend and it was pretty darn amazing).
I wasn’t really sure what to expect, this time. So much was different for us as a team – we were in a different location, with different team members (and some notable absences…), a different program, no Wandsworth van of stuff, and the event was shaped differently too. I wasn’t sure where I’d fit in. I wasn’t sure how it would feel, or how the room even looked.
But, a few days after getting back, I am still amazed by what it was like and what God said and did. The whole thing was amazing and any fears and concerns that any of us had did not come to pass. The conference programme itself worked well, with people really finding they could engage with the speakers and respond. The theme was ‘Wholly Holy’, and many people came for prayer to go deeper and get stuff in their lives sorted.
It was great to be on the prayer team, too. The team really worked together well and there was a strong sense of community. I loved being with that group of people – friends from across the country, I loved working together and laughing and crying with them. It was an awesome feeling.
Its odd because I didn’t go into any of the main sessions or speaks but I find myself really stirred up by the theme, really engaged with issues of social justice and longing to work at and pray into issues of that nature in the here and now.
This weekend I am off to a creative worship weekend in Sunbury, helping to run a prayer labyrinth, so I am looking forward to some more challenging times!
Roots – Post 1
Where I am still speechless and instead decide to post a couple of photos:
We decided to build a globe out of chicken wire:
There were a few minor hiccups:
But in the end it looked lovely
Intercessory Capers
There were many places I could have spent Good Friday. Usually I find myself holed up in a church, or another such noble place. In Wandsworth, I’d have been doing a walk of witness then embarking on a mammoth fast. Yesterday, however was very different.
To give a bit of the background to the tale, you need to know that, in the past at least, a small bit of tension/rivalry/general dissension has existed between this fair city and the other, smaller towns and villages around it. I guess like everywhere, there have been places we have looked down upon and besmirched… We don’t think this is an especially helpful thing, especially as some dear friends of ours in one of these said towns are planning and praying and believing for a centre of prayer, similar to the Boiler Room we have here. We believe that we need them and they need us in a way, that there needs to be some form of mutual reliance and partnership, so we decided that we would walk and meet them as an act of prophetic intent, a prayerful ‘Come on!!’
Undeterred by weather forecasts of doom, five of us set off yesterday morning to walk to Birchington. It was only twelve miles away, and the sun was shining (at that point at least). We prayed up a storm before we left, and then set off on our way, following an ancient road to our destination.
And, it was just amazing. One of the most incredible moments was looking up and seeing two large birds of prey circling above us. This was amazing, as you don’t tend to get those sort of birds here. We were very encouraged.
We walked through each of the little towns and villages, pausing to pray and drive a tent peg into the ground in each of them as a symbol of our connectedness:
It just felt so brilliant to be able to walk, to pray, and to spend time as a community just getting to know each other a bit better. We also all found that you see a place really differently when you walk through it – we all travel that road probably a few times a week, but one gets a much better feel for the land actually taking the time to walk it.
A top moment was when we made it to a village about halfway, and a lovely friend from church met us in a bus stop with a hot flask of tea and coffee. We were so grateful, and it was a real blessing to see her. We sat in the bus stop and had lunch together.
About four miles from the end of the walk, it started to pour with rain, but we were all in high spirits, and had a real sense of God being close, so I don’t think any of us felt cold or glum. It was funny because friendly supporters kept on driving by, waving, beeping and offering us lifts. They were such an encouragement, but we plodded on.
It felt so amazing to see the Birchington sign and to drive the last peg into the ground. We then met lots of people from the community there, and were then picked up by said lovely people and driven to a warm house, where we took communion and spent some time praying for each other (as well as eating and getting dry).
Yesterday felt a bit like one of those things you know you’ll never know the full impact of, but it was awesome to meet with and share with our friends in Thanet, and it was such a blessing to receive from them too. I am looking forward to all that lies ahead.
Gathering Pace
Tonight was the monthly gathering of praying folk from 4 of the local areas around here. I love the feeling of gathering with others and praying together and just having a laugh in the process. It’s always good to be able to build up a bit more of a picture of what is going on in the county too, as being a bit of a newbie I haven’t quite got my head around it all yet.
There weren’t many of us out tonight (I think the bitter weather put most people off), but even in a small group it was good to chat and pray and share what we think God is saying. The meeting is called Momentum, and there is always a real sense for me of that, when we gather together.
Its fab, starting a new year and thinking ahead to what might happen in it. I enjoyed the journey there and back with two lovely friends also. Now all we need is a few inches of snow and my week will be complete
Love, Live, Learn, Lose
For the past three years I’ve been working for the Salvation Army based at our wondrous Uk & Ireland headquarters in London.
Today is my last day, which is weird. I don’t think I expected to have such a melee of feelings, for the bittersweet-ness to be quite this intense! This lunchtime I shared a meal with a small group of my colleagues, and I have to admit to pulling back from the conversation a few times just to muse about that little group of people, about the joys and challenges of journeying together, and about all the things I have seen over the past 36-ish months.
A lot of people think that THQ is quirky, and it is true that it has its own unique character and personality. When you have sat, desk quivering through the sprinkler-test, or ridden out the boil-freeze-boil-freeze heating system, I think you come out the other end with a real fondness for the place and for the people, and for a greater desire than ever to see this denomination fulfil what is was raised up to do – to save souls, to grow saints and to serve suffering humanity. Actually, I don’t think that’s a reflection on the sprinkler system, I think it’s the spirit of God that hovers in the place, sometimes unnoticed but always having an impact.
I’ve come to the conclusion that every member of the Salvation Army should work or volunteer at THQ for at least a month of their lives. It gives you such a fuller picture of how the SA fits together – like seeing the cogs that turn the machine wheels, and I’ve found it inspirational. I’ve tried to add some colour to the place – with my bright socks and glittery reindeer adorning my desk, but more than appearance it’s about attitude… working here has given me a refreshed vision for the Salvation Army, re-invigorating my hope for a church raised up to live out an Isaiah 61 sort-of Christianity: setting the captives free and proclaiming good news for the poor and the downtrodden and the oppressed.
I’ve already mentioned the year of discipleship, and ALOVE uk chose the four words above to explore this theme further. I like to think they sum up my experience of working for the Salvation Army, and specifically working to champion the cause of prayer within it. I was and will remain passionate that we are called to pray and to wrestle and to ‘believe the future into being’ with our prayers.
These years have been about Loving – the most fervent prayer, in my opinion, springs out of a love relationship with God and with a passionate belief that we are his beloved. I long for more people to grasp what this means, and for the church as a whole to live out of that place – understanding our position as friends and lovers, as opposed to servants and employees of our creator. Love gives and spends itself on behalf of others, love inspires the desperate prayer for a lost family member or a broken colleague or peace in our world. Oh that we, that I, would learn to love more perfectly.
They have been about Living – understanding prayer as something that weaves through our day to day lives with beauty and simplicity, living out a journey of ups and downs and sudden-corners that shake and unnerve us but that we can make it through as a community of believers with a unified mission. It has been believing that the ‘life in fullness’ promise of God extends to my life in the office, behind a desk, wrestling with a photocopier – the mundane and everyday things we all do.
There has been Learning, many many lessons that I have grappled with and often only petulantly accepted. I’ve learned about myself, my skills and talents as well as my weaknesses and struggles. I have learnt to work in a team and to be more ready to ask for help and to be less frightened of failing. I have learnt that no-one has it all together and we are all walking and changing and being healed. I have learnt that prayer helps me learn – I hear Gods voice and he teaches me at a pace which is perfect and which never pulls me down or makes me feel small.
And then, there’s Losing. (We’ll leave this one to last because it’s hard to come up with a natty paragraph about stuff which still stirs my heart, still hurts to think about). I remember when I started this job, some keen prophetic type told me that, as my influence rose, at the same time there would be a going down, a stripping away, a brokenness that would increase simultaneously. I wasn’t so sure what all that meant at the time. The thought of my having any influence at all freaked me out, and brokenness just didn’t seem to fit into my nice, neat plans for things. Why would God bring me down at the same time as raising me up? From my three years older and maybe a little wiser place, I think I understand it a little more. I’ve felt the sting of unanswered prayer and I’ve seen the frustrations of unmet expectations around me. I’ve lost people who I loved desperately at seemingly the most untimely moments, when so much seems unfinished. There have been many, many times when my prayers have been ‘God… this makes no sense… what are you playing at?’
Through all these experiences, there have been some truths that I hold on to, that have been I think indelibly written on my heart through these past years of triumph and struggle, of joy and of sorrow. These include: Prayer works, Jesus always does something even if it looks like the opposite is true. None of us are too far away from God, or our lives too ‘messed up’ for him to heal and change and use for his glory. I’ve learnt that he really does choose the weak and foolish things to shame the wise, and that he really does use all things for good for those that love him.
This truly has been a beautiful chapter of my life, and one I will thank God for, ponder on, and learn from as long as I live.
Prayer on the Road
This summer, the 24-7/SA Prayer team had the privilege of collaborating with ALOVE UK, and the International Development department at THQ, to take part in the first all-summer-school road trip.
We packed our suitcases, we saw more of the UK and Ireland’s motorway system than I ever thought possible, and we had the amazing opportunity to interact with every young person who attended one of the Salvation Army’s 14 divisional summer schools.
Now that Road Trip is over, and we are back in the office, back behind our desks, I have been musing that these past few weeks. I realise that they have probably taught me more about prayer than any of the books I have read or talks I have heard recently. I wanted to share some of those lessons with you in this article. You might not be surviving on service-station coffees or living out of a suitcase, but sometimes all of our lives feel like this: like we are on the move, like we don’t know where fit, like we’re not sure what life will throw at us next. Prayer gets me through these unsettled times.
One of the things I quickly found out about the fast-paced Road Trip lifestyle, was that there was not much sleep to be had! In all the late nights and early mornings I deduced that getting up extra early for an hour of concentrated intercession would seriously impede my ability to deliver seminars later in the day. My prayer life became flexible – I talked to God over the rabble of my travelling companions musical taste, I whispered prayers before seeking to enthuse teenagers about the things of prayer, and I think we all prayed when, in the evening ‘gig’, we had to don comedy sailors hats and step into the ‘disciple-ship’ – an inflatable dinghy where we were each interviewed about our discipleship journeys.
All of us have to pray on the move like this, when the responsibilities of work and family life crowd in. Sometimes we can find ourselves feeling guilty, because we simply do not have the time available for long devotional times. Sometimes we feel like we ‘aren’t good enough’, because we compare ourselves to others and become convinced that we don’t measure up. The truth is, God isn’t measuring our prayers on some sort of league table; he doesn’t rate us on our eloquence, or give us extra blessings because we manage to squeeze in an extra chapter of Ecclesiastes in our evening devotions. We don’t need to feel guilty, because it is perfectly acceptable, and I would argue invigorating, to mutter a prayer under our breath as we wander around the supermarket, to pray for the other parents in the playground by simply running through their names in our heads. One of the main messages we were trying to get across with Road Trip was that our personal discipleship journeys – our engagement with worship, prayer and social justice – are not extra pressures that we need to squeeze into an already packed schedule, but that discipleship is ‘whole life’ – something that should pervade and shape the lives we already lead.
The other important lesson I was reminded of through Road Trip, is that the power of God and the effectiveness of our prayers is not increased or restricted by how we are feeling at any given moment. I loved teaching young people about prayer, (especially the bit where we wrote sentence prayers on paper aeroplanes and all threw them at each other), but as any of you who’ve worked with youth will know, their engagement and enthusiasm varied immensely. It depending on the time of day, on how many hours sleep they’d had the night before, and on how many wasps were circling overhead. Sometimes I felt like they were hanging on my every word, sometimes I doubted they were even awake! I loved the material we were teaching, but after the fifteenth time I really had to rely on the Holy Spirit to inspire my delivery of it. I found myself musing that most of us shift in terms of our eagerness and belief in the power of prayer, depending on any number of factors. Some of us struggle to engage with prayer because we have experienced the pain of unanswered prayer, when we have prayed and prayed only to see the opposite happen. It is hard to trust in a faithful God after an experience like that.
I was reminded that God is the same, and his promises remain true, whether I am feeling encouraged or exhausted, inspired or irritated. Isaiah 40:31 says: ‘Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.’ That is a promise I hold onto through the shifting seasons and emotions of life. We all need his hope and his strength to keep us going in the times when it feels like we are going nowhere, and to encourage us to move on from places of comfort and safety when things have been going well.
Road Trip is over now, our flip-flops and suitcases have been packed away until next year, and we face the prospect of a new school year and new seasons approaching. My prayer is that we will each find prayer infiltrating our day-to-day lives, and that we will learn to more fully rely on God’s presence and promises to sustain us.
More ‘Fullness’ pics
I was rooting around this afternoon looking at some of the photos I took at the Fullness retreat, these give more an idea of the location rather than what we actually did, I guess, but I thought I’d post them as I really like them.
This was outside at the back of the Custard Factory. The weather was lovely and the coloured graffiti really stood out. I wished I’d thought about popping out and snapping beforehand, as we were rushing to packdown, so I only had time to snaffle a few illicit shots… lots of bright spray paints, peeling paint and rust – my favourite sort of a place to take photos.
Again, there was much in this corner which could have kept me snapping for hours. I loved the starkness of the tower, which is out of shot to the top left, I loved the broken brickwork, the sharp angles contrasting with the curling graffiti, the plant growing out of the drainpipe and the small snatch of blue sky. I was inspired by the scrap of blue knitted fabric stuck in the barbed wire, too. I may have a bit of a photoshop twiddle with this, because think it’d look better in black and white perhaps, with some bleaker contrasts… we’ll see.
On to inside artwork now, a beautiful contribution from the beautiful Kate. I loved the ‘flowingness’ of this. A dangerous prayer to pray methinks, but she really captured the heart of the event with this.
I loved the picture of the girl with her hands in the fire. I’ve thought about it a lot since then. Was she warming her hands? Was it a cleansing thing, like the heat of the fire symbolising holiness? And then the fire seems to be radiating, shining from her face and hair. I like the thought that being that close to God radiates like that.
‘Fullness’ – Emptying ourselves to be filled
On Saturday 2nd May, fresh from our Durham trip, we found ourselves in the creative quarter of Birmingham, setting up for the UK Territory’s first ‘Fullness Retreat’.
These retreats were first pioneered in the USA Eastern Territory, they basically involve a room, plenty of coffee, and a bunch of hungry people waiting to meet with God.
We set the room up with some prayer focuses, some art space and lots of comfy corners for people to do business with the good Lord.
At midday, people started arriving from far flung corners of the UK (like Bristol and Banbury). There were about sixty of us in total, as well as 50 others who couldn’t be there in person, but were kept in the loop with live text updates, and who prayed alongside and fed back prophetic words and pictures they received.
So what did we do? We fasted; we worshipped by singing, by praying loud, and by mumbling quiet praise. We listened to fab, inspired teaching about fasting and prayer, and then went off on our own for a bit to meet with God. We listened to him and shared what he spoke to us about the Salvation Army in the UK, and we chatted in groups about the exciting things God is doing around the country. We prayed for the new Directors of ALOVE (The SA’s Youthwork expression), and we doused each other in anointing oil (which was probably perfume). We painted on the walls, and danced about, and made things with clay. It was great.
And what did God do? Well, he showed up! It was so weird, in that the location was, to put it politely, intriguing. It had been a nightclub venue the night before, so it was all a little sticky, and on the Saturday night it morphed into a nightclub venue one more. We were praying alongside a sound check playing hardcore trance for a bit, and the whole place felt quite soulless and sad, but after a bit of praise and worship, our little area felt warm and transformed. The walls were made of cold white breezeblock, but soon heartfelt prayers and prophetic pictures danced across them, bringing a real life and vibrancy to the place.
The stories coming out of the weekend are exciting. People heard God speak about new directions for their lives. Others encountered the healing power of his Spirit. Some made new commitments and for many the passion for prayer was fuelled and revived. It felt like a line in the sand, one of those weekends you look back on and say ‘that was significant.’
The stuff God said was amazing too. I was awed that you could ask 60 people to listen to God and they would come out with pretty much consistent stuff. There were some common themes – the call to holiness, our mandate to partner God in
setting the captives free, the heart cry to see the Salvation Army become all that God intends, the need to make costly sacrifice, to lay down what is passable and strive for the best.
The bit that was most powerful for me happened on Sunday morning, when we split into two groups, and the ‘parent generations’ spoke words of blessing and affirmation over our generations. It was a powerful and releasing moment.
I loved the conversations over coffee, the undercurrent of excitement that came from giving 24 hours over to God like that, the sense of solidarity in knowing that we were ‘going without’ as a corporate body, in order to find a new place of intimacy with him. I loved the sense of corporate responsibility, the sense that sixty people gathering like that really could make a massive difference.
And the conversations since the weekend have been inspiring. It’s been fab to open my emails of a morning and read more stuff that God has been saying to people, new ideas for going deeper in prayer, and feedback from those who were challenged and inspired. It seems that this was not just another event, but something that was and will continue to be catalytic for prayer in the Salvation Army.
So it’s a watch this space thing I think!!
Setting the Captives Free
(in an attempt to work through my blogging backlog)
Two weeks ago a bunch of us trundled up to Durham for the above course. It was run by the SA’s in service training people. It was the first one of its kind, and was set in the beautiful (if remote) setting of a Durham seminary college:
Location wise it was incredible, the place had a real austere and grand feel about it, without being cold and overbearing. The long sprawling corridors were inspiring, and the refectory looked like something out of Harry Potter:
It was great to be in a beautiful place with 25 or so others who really wanted to learn and to understand more about how God can bring freedom and healing to people. It was great to hear different teachers – a fresh perspective on this stuff is always helpful, and our speakers were informed, helpful and most of all ‘normal’ – they made the topic sound like something accessible we could all be doing, rather than some weird ministry that only a few are called to.
At the beginning of the week, I thought a three day long course would be a bit of a slog, but the length of time seemed to be just right, and by the end of the course there seemed to be a real tightness about the group. It was the kind of community that is formed when a bunch of people really journey through some stuff together. I felt like I’d known them all for ages, there was a real deep level of trust, and the sense that it wasn’t a random accidental group of us that just happened to end up there, but a selection God had brought together for a purpose. I am excited to see what comes out of that and how things develop as a result of the conversations and connections we made that week.
Most of all, I was again encouraged and reminded that God truly is all about saving, healing and redeeming people’s lives from the darkness. I pray that he will use me, and all of us to partner him in that.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget our tour of Durham in the most persistent driving rain. I’d have liked to see more of the city in the sunshine, it looked like a lovely place.
The Big Church Day Out
(This deserves a shout-out, if only for the beautiful design work above!!)
24-7prayer are joining up with Delirious? and a huge list of other friends for a one-day festival on Sunday 24th May – called the Big Church Day Out – on the incredibly beautiful Wiston House Estate, West Sussex.
From 2.30pm in the afternoon until 10pm late that night, there will be a whole variety of experiences for all the family… with worship bands and speakers, fun stuff for children and activities for young people, an acoustic cafe and other food venues, and our very own 24-7prayer chapel.
Charlotte Terris and her small team have been dreaming up all kinds of creative ideas to turn the 700 year-old Wiston chapel into a beautiful prayer room, based around the Lord’s Prayer. It’s all very exciting. Tim Jupp, from Delirious, said that the prayer room should become the focus as the day progresses… prayer for the area, and for our nation.
So… we’d love you to be there, if you can come. Already churches have been buying blocks of tickets and booking coaches for the day… up to 10,000 people are expected. For more information, and for tickets, you can click across to the website; http://www.thebigchurchdayout.com
Prayer Day thoughts
Saturday morning dawned, grey and drizzly, as I lugged a bright pink stuffed suitcase round the corner. The time: 7am, the purpose: a prayer day at a SA church not far from the town I grew up in.
Bleary-eyed, we navigated our way to the M1, which was in a state of roadwork-related disarray but thankfully not too busy. It was at this point that I realised I had brought pages 1,2,3 and 5 of 5 of the directions, but that the all-important page 4 of 5 had dematerialised.
(We wondered why it always seems to be the vital page that disappears at a moment like this. We didn’t need to know how to get from Wandsworth to the M1, but having an idea what to do once we turned off the motorway would have been useful. Anyway…)
Once we made it to the church building (with only a bit of creative directional improvisation), we were swiftly ensconced in set up: laying craft items out on a table, tearing up sheets of newspaper for under chairs, distributing pots of play-dough, putting Jelly Babies in bowls at the front. When the first delegates came in, they were heard to wonder whether they had walked into a playgroup… musing that made me smile a lot.
Helped by some coffee, we got into the swing of teaching: I expounded wildly about how we pray most comfortably in different ‘styles’, according to our personalities. The lovely delegates made collages, practised centring prayer, went on a short walk, found newspaper articles to pray about, and made models from the aforementioned play-dough depicting, something/someone they were praying for at the moment.
Then we had soup… amazing soup - leek and potato of the highest variety. I love meal times at days like this, just to be so mixed into the life of a church, hearing the conversations, sharing some of their journey, learning of their hopes, dreams and struggles. Laughing with people I’ve just met, though feeling as if I’ve known them for years.
After lunch the teaching fun continued. This time we thought about our distinct roles in prayer – as intercessors, watchmen, spies, armour-bearers, prophets and overseers. It was so exciting to see lights going on in people’s eyes, and to hear the buzz of excited conversation as people with the same role gathered in small groups and chatted, dreamed and prayed together.
Later in the day, we gathered in a restaurant, debriefing about the day and continuing some of the conversations that we’d begun. We learned about each others lives, we shared our joys and pain, it felt like family. We didn’t feel like visitors, but like we were at home. Over our free salads we discussed ways forward, and how to build on those conversations. Then we travelled back to the main church building, wandered around seeing all the different rooms, hearing about the different ministries that take place in them, again feeling privileged to hear some of the energy and inspiration behind them.
After this it was back on the road, back up the motorway, back through the sleepy streets of London and back to our homes. I was left marvelling again at the exciting things God is doing in the Salvation Army in the UK, how prayer is still steadily pulsing away on the agenda and what a privilege it is to be able to catch glimpses of how that looks in practice.
Lament for the Bride
God of Good News
See these ruins surrounding us.
Observe the chains of our captivity.
Give ear to these songs of bereavement.Father of Light
This night has been long now.
Dawn, just a fading rumour.
We’ve stumbled in the bitter dark.
Lord of hosts
See these crumbling citadels.
We have been plundered.
The gold of our inheritance exchanged for iron bars.
Give ear to us,
You who love justice.
Come quickly to our aid,
As we groan under the load of exhaustion.
Forgive us our many sins.
We lie, face down in the ashes.
Wash away the stains of our idolatry
In your mercy, restore our purity.
God of grace, we long
For a crown of beauty, for ashes.
For the oil of gladness, instead of mourning.
For the garment of praise, for this spirit of heaviness.
Prayer Room Capers
This week, I had the pleasure of spending some time in a 24-7 prayer room at the church some of my friends attend.
Being in a prayer room is not a rare occurence for me. One of the joys of my job is that I often find myself constructing ‘intimacy areas’ out of old bedsheets, or taping speaker boxes together to make a Babylon prayer installation. I love the buzz of starting with an empty room and creating something that helps people meet with God.
What was so refreshing about this week’s experience, however, was that I had nothing to do with any of this. (Except, I have to say, for printing and photocopying the sign-up sheet, but then I like to leave my mark somewhere!) And that made such a difference. I could experience the room for what it was, I could meet God there without having to worry if there was enough paper or if anyone had spilt coffee or if the fish were alive or dead (there were no fish, which admittedly made this job easier for everyone).
Walking into that room was like walking into a prayer room for the first time ever. I experienced the stillness of God’s presence there (even above above the monotonous drone of a persistent drill). I felt intrigued by the different zones that had been set up and the thought that had gone into their creation. I loved rifling through a selection of CD’s before eventually settling on some chilled strings. I felt like a kid in the prayer version of a toy shop – What to look at first? Where to sit down? Do I paint first or dance around for a bit?
One of the things that struck me most about the prayer room, and the 24-7 week in general was that it is taking place in an upper room, while the main church downstairs is being renovated (hence the drill). Interestingly the gentle undertone of construction noise didn’t distract me from praying, it actually made me think – what better time to do 24-7! Something like a building project, when you’re quite literally changing how a church looks physically, strikes me as a great time to turn to prayer and dedicate everything to God!
Lots of things struck me about the room: The plant with little fairy lights spelling out ‘Love, Joy, Peace’ etc reminded me that these qualities are organic and they grow in us. The Bible verses dotted around reminded me of some of the promises I’ve been mulling over in my head recently. The heartfelt, post-it note prayers for God to transform the city challenged me with their passion and fervency, and nudged me to lift up afresh some of the things I’m longing to see God do. The pile of cushions that I sunk into in one corner reminded me of the importance of stopping, encountering God and finding his clarity in our confusion and busyness.
The bit that impacted me most, though, was the aforementioned intimacy area (although I’m pleased to report this one was not created from a manky old bedsheet!) Now, again the rigours of life and work mean I end up in a lot of similar purposed places. I have always liked them well enough and thought they were a good thing to have in any self-respecting prayer space, but I usually find them a little difficult to connect with. Everything is very white, very clean, very pristine and very still. This being the case, I’m generally very tempted to splurge paint all around and make a lot of noise in them. (Not because I have rebellious or destructive tendancies, I hasten to add… I just see white spaces and want to colour them in). Anyway, this intimacy area in this prayer room was different, and it included one detail which changed it from being just another nondescript white area, into a place where I probably did my most significant business with the good Lord.
The thing that made such a difference was simply a stretch of red fabric, torn in half, hanging in the entrance to the area, in such a way that to enter it you have to enter in through the torn fabric halves. For me this was a powerful symbol, speaking clearly of the sacrifice and death of Jesus tearing the temple curtain clean in half, leaving the access open for people to enter into the presence and holiness of Christ. I felt like I could connect with the theme of holiness and intimacy in a new way, because it was so contextualised by the visual reminder that the way is opened to me because of what Jesus did.
I was sad when my time in the room was done, and I was thankful to God for the spontaneous interlude that had only been planned the evening before, that meant I could have this space. So it’s a well done to my friends who’ve worked tirelessly to set it all up, and a thanks to God too for showing up when we pray.
September
My life is often a feat of trying to fit a lot of diary engagements into not enough diary days. Especially in the excitement that is September, when prayer events aplenty seem to spring up all across our fair isle. I love the busyness, the feeling of being kept on my toes, the drive to keep going to God for inspiration because my own supplies have long since dwindled.
September comes with a sense that the year is drawing to a close. My ipod strayed to a Christmas song the other day and I didn’t forward skip it in disgust. Pretty soon the shops will be full of associated garb. I begin to feel the familiar sense of satisfaction that another twelve months are almost over and done with, and with that comes the urge to start looking at the statistics of my year. How many towns have I visited? What was the top moment? Where have I flown to? (and what was my carbon footprint like?) What has surprised me (there are some top contenders for that prize this year, let me tell you), What have I learned?
Also, meetings about next year have started to creep into my week. Both this week and last I found myself enmeshed in buzzing conversations, dreaming big for 2009, sharing concepts and visions and working out partnerships. I was excited about the potential of this year, and have not been dissapointed, and next year seems to be following suit.
But there is more fun to be had before it’s time for that. Highlights of the next few weeks include trips to Bedford and Huddersfield and Banbury to hang out with lovely Salvation Army praying people. After that there’s a training day we’re pulling together that I’m really excited for. Exciting social occasions coming up include multiplicitous dramatic performances from my gifted friends, plus a cool engagement party, and an evening making Fair Trade goodie bags for a coffee evening we’re having with church.
Church is the other excitement in life at the moment. For the past twelve months we’ve been out of our building, while the dear old place was razed to the ground and replaced with an altogether shinier (and less death-trap-laced) new one. It’s pretty much done now, and it’s been really great to watch the finishing touches being applied. This leaves us with the fun process of shopping. So I have been measuring the height of filing cabinets, musing over the practicality of teal sofas and observing discussions about the correct type of potato masher to buy. I’ve learned things about decking out a church that I never would have even considered before.
All in all, these are exciting times. I find my head merrily full of projects that I am really able to get my teeth into. I find myself anticipating the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, amazed at what I have seen and experienced over the past nine months, and thrilled about what is to come.
All my ways
“You know when I sit and when I rise, You perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down. You are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, O Lord.” Psalm 139:2-4.
You’re there, in my waking moments. There, as I stumble, semi-conscious, rubbing sleep from my eyes. You watch me, awkward and uncoordinated as I am, and you love me. Even if I forget to think of you, your thoughts still turn to me.
My thoughts don’t escape your attention: the excitement of future plans, the uncertainty of relationships, the yearning to see things more clearly; you see and know it all, from the trivial to the complex. You know my most noble intention and my most selfish desire, and yet your delight in me does not shift.
Whether I feel brave or frightened, surrounded or alone, thrilled or desolate; you are Lord of my emotions, and you are constant. My uncertainty does not unnerve you, and you hold on, whether I am trusting resoundly, or doubting nervously.
When I rush around, filling my days with busyness, drowing out the cry of my heart, you’re there too, nudging me towards stillness. You understand the complexities of schedule, you weave in and through my appointments, breathing life into my to-do list.
You call me to sabbath, leading me to places of calm and rest. You minister to me in the solitude, bringing your touch of peace. I sit beside you and we muse together, comfortable in the silence. You watch over me as I sleep, protecting and refreshing me. You dance into my dreams, infusing my imagination with holy colour.
When I am travelling, you’re there too – my constant companion. You stand at my side through long hours on crowded trains. You whisper, “Look up, look out of the window.” And I see you in green hills and golden fields.
We laugh together, you appreciate my humour completely, you crafted it and you love to see my joy. You speak correction too, gently pointing out aspects of my character I need to submit to you, placing a loving arm on my shoulder when I go to step off course. You rescue me when the night draws in and the thunder rumbles, you hold me when tears overtake me, you are faithful through every season of my life.
You preside over my vocabulary. You formed the words on my toungue, marvelling as my gurgling and babbling became coherent speech. You hear the phrases forming in my mind, and you infuse these with your ideas, your thoughts, your truth. You use my story for your purposes, to glorify you. I am awed and amazed by all you are and all you do.
Water Snake Days
This week has been festooned with intercessory delights. I figured between my allegorical musings I would write about some of the different prayer events I have been to this week, just because I’ve enjoyed them all lots and it reminded me why I love prayer so much.
Can’t remember if I’ve explained the water snake thing before, but Lyndall explains it beautifully in her post here: http://lifeoflyndall.wordpress.com/2008/07/23/mustnt-grumble/
Anyway, so the water-snakery began on Monday, when I was faced with the task at work of sending out our monthly prayer diaries. In the past I may have been heard to grumble, because stuffing 850 envelopes can sometimes feel a little repetitive, and cannot be called the most exciting part of my job! Anyhow, I surprised myself this time by being quite excited by the task. As I handled the envelopes I found myself praying for those who would receive them, imagining how God could move through each of those people, praying that they would be challenged and inspired in their prayer lives. It didn’t feel like mindlessly stuffing envelopes, it felt like putting ammunition into people’s hands.
The next water snake moment was on Tuesday. We have a community meal and then a prayer meeting every Tuesday. It’s one of the highlights of a Wandsworth week. For a number of reasons it’s felt like I’ve missed a lot of those over the last few weeks, so it was wonderful to join in with that again. We had a beautiful meal, followed by waffles. Then we prayed. There were only three of us left, by that point, but it was one of those prayer meetings that just seemed to take a life of it’s own and flow without us directing it. We each got to pray for some of the things God’s been putting on our hearts, so it was a good space.
Wednesday’s Water-snakery was in the guise of department prayers. On my floor at work, each unit takes turns to head this up each week. This week was the turn of the Mission Development Unit. We all gathered, not altogether sure what to expect. I was unprepared for the direct challenge that came accross through this time. We looked at the passage in 1 Corinthians which talks about God using the foolish things of the world to shame the wise, the things that are not to nullify the things that are, etc. We then had to think of the times that God had surprised us over the past week or so, and then write them on small cards and thank God for them. Then we were challenged to pray for more opportunities for him to do that. It made me think a lot.
Thursday was a busy day. We have whole-office prayers each Thursday at 9am, so we all trooped downstairs for that. We started by singing, ‘Praise my soul the King of Heaven’, which is always a good, rousing beginning to any reputable prayer gathering. Then we spent some time looking at Psalm 147, considering the faithfulness of God, and praying for the strength to trust in that. I love this passage because it contains one of my favourite verses: “The Lord heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds.’ We then sang a song called, ‘If your presence’, which is taken from Joshua and Exodus, which asks how can we do anything, how can we move from this place, how can we minister love without God’s presence. I felt it was a really pertinent challenge for us all, and went back upstairs to my seat with that uncomfortable feeling that accompanies God’s conviction.
Then last night a couple of us headed to the house of a friend for more intercessory capers. I didn’t really know many of the others in the group, but it didn’t matter, and it was nice to meet new people. We prayed hard for Wandsworth, each taking an area or aspect of community. I had to pray about business, which was an intrigue as it isn’t something I find myself praying about a lot, but it was good discipline. At the end of the meeting we chatted some more about some of the stuff God is doing here, and generally just hung out with each other a bit.
However tiring it sometimes is, bouncing from prayer gathering to prayer gathering, I realise that I wouldn’t swap it for the world. I remembered how much I love just getting my teeth into some praying, just showing up where there are a bunch of people with a common goal, listening to words and pictures that people have had when praying and then using them to guide how we pray. I do love the water snake lifestyle!
Flummoxed by Mercy
Praise be to the LORD,
for he showed his wonderful love to me
when I was in a besieged city.
In my alarm I said,
“I am cut off from your sight!”
Yet you heard my cry for mercy
when I called to you for help.
(Psalm 31:21-22)
I’ve been thinking a bit over the weekend about mercy. About how the way God meters it out doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense, and about how I think we so often don’t account for it or expect it.
I was reading 2 Samuel 24, where David has sinned by taking a census of the number of fighting men available. It’s not the most cheery story, but I was struck by a number of things in it.
Firstly, it struck me that God’s mercy didn’t depend on the Israelites not messing up. That seems like an obvious thing to say, but so often I think we fall into the trap of thinking that God will be merciful if we somehow manage to convince him that we are worthy of it. So often my prayers for mercy come from a place of ‘God, I’ve done all you said, now please help me.’ It’s like God is some fluffy, yet unpredictable figure who needs me to put on a good front. God in this passage is so not like that. We’re told his anger burns against Israel, he sends a plague where 70,000 people die. He doesn’t skirt round their sin and even though he acts in mercy, there are still consequences. Even in this mess, David still affirms a key truth – ‘Let us fall into the hands of the Lord, for his mercy is great, but do not let me fall into the hands of men.’ It seems that, even in his wrath, David knows that God is ultimately just and righteous. At the end of the story, David prays and humbles himself and takes responsibility for the sin. God hears his prayer and stops the plague.
In some senses, the story leaves me with more questions than it answers. Why did God wait until 70,000 people had died – that doesn’t strike me as particularly merciful? Surely counting some men isn’t that bad (after all, we all like to know how far our resources will stretch, don’t we?) And what would have happened if David hadn’t done the repenting thing? Surely decimating his chosen people was going to create problems down the line?
As I was musing over all of this, I thought about situations today. In many of them, we’ve been taught that we have a loving and merciful God, but the evidence doesn’t seem to back that up. Maybe we haven’t lost 70,000 mates to a virilent plague, but there are so many situations where we cry and we plead for mercy and yet those cries seem to go unheard. Even more frustratingly, often there isn’t even a traceable reason for this, unlike in David’s story. And then, we hear about people becoming Christians on their deathbeds, after lives of crime etc. Surely we’d be justified in the odd ‘that’s not fair.’
I was musing about all of this, and I kinda came to the conclusion that I’m glad it doesn’t make sense to me. I’m so aware that I can only ever see a situation from a 2-dimensional perspective, whereas God has the whole picture, the whys and hows and whens. He sees all the possible outcomes. On reflection, I’m not sure I’d like that role.
Trusting that he is merciful is hard, especially when it seems we’ve been waiting in that beseiged city for a long time. But if we don’t have that hope, what do we have? What’s the point in keeping going at all?
It’s at times like this that I remember one of my favourite verses in Hebrews:
“Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.” (Hebrews 4:14-16 MSG).
I guess we just have to work the rest out as we go along?
Prince Caspian
Last Thursday, my lovely work colleagues took me to the 02 arena in London to see the premiere of this, the 2nd Narnia film. I had never been to a premiere, and didn’t really know what to expect. I loved the first Narnia film, and I loved the book of PC, so I had high hopes for this.
I wasn’t disappointed. It really was a marvellous evening. The arena was huge, the screen was gargantuan and the film itself was amazing.
I’m probably not allowed to tell you about the plot or anything like that, but I was really impacted by one scene in the film especially. It was really near the end, when the Narnians et al are engaged in one of those battles that is about rightness and valour but is not going to end in victory for the good without supernatural intervention.
The Telmarine forces drive them back to a bridge over a river, certain that they can beat them there. And then the sounds of battle fade and we see Lucy, the youngest of the Pevensey children standing on the bridge alone. She is young, I think 10 or 11. All the collected, well armoured, loud forces of the Telmarine stand on the other side of the bridge, waiting for the signal to march over it, confused as to why a small, unarmed, unarmoured girl is standing in their way. Everything is still for a moment, it looks like certain death for Lucy. She pulls a tiny toy sword out of her belt, and they all laugh at her.
But Lucy isn’t relying on her tiny sword to win the battle, because then we see that she is really not alone. Suddenly Aslan is revealed, standing closely beside her. Suddenly the tables have turned and she is no longer a vulnerable little girl facing the violence of her amassed foes. Aslan roars, and everything changes in an instant.
I guess this bit of the film touches me because I have always empathised with Lucy, she is the youngest, she looks weak and insignificant, and yet she has a key role to play in things. She is mocked by her enemies and overlooked by her family and yet she has a special relationship with Aslan, the representation of God. I want to have a relationship with God like that. I want to keep remembering that I don’t have to fight the battles that surround me with my little wooden sword, but in the power of the Almighty God that stands beside me. That is a very comforting thought.
True Celebration
So, Jacob cons his dad into giving him his brother’s birthright/blessing. Jacob runs away in fear of his life, and ends up stopping randomly in ‘a certain place’ (Genesis 28:11). That night he has a dream involving a staircase, lots of angels and an affirming speech from God about his purpose and destiny. To mark the place, he sets up the stone he used as his pillow as a pillar, to mark God’s promise and presence. He calls the place Bethel, which means House of God.
The thing that struck me about this story today is that Jacob is celebrating God’s faithfulness even without seeing it having come to completion. At this point in the story he is still on the run, without family or a place to call his own. I’m not sure I’d be celebrating with the same fervency.
This made me think about the way we celebrate, the way I celebrate. Sometimes, it is because we have a tangible cause or thing to celebrate - a baby being born, a driving test passed, a new job etc. Sometimes though, it’s more like Jacob’s pile of rocks: we are celebrating something we can’t see in completion yet.
Whereas celebrating tangible things is great, I think celebrating the ‘not-yets’ in our lives somehow sharpens our faith. If, in the moments of aridity and uncertainty, we can somehow find something to celebrate (however small and seemingly insignificant), I believe those things are like stone pillars, set up at significant points in our lives to mark something of God’s provision or revelation.
I’d like to tell you about a stone pillar in my life at the moment, and the way that this reminds me to celebrate even when it seems premature, or simply ludicrous to be doing so.
Today some of my friends made me a birthday cake and 5 balloon animals (You know the sort you twist modelling balloons to make). It may have looked like a small gesture, but I was really touched. I’m sure Jacob’s stone pillar wasn’t much to look at, but to him it was really significant. For me these balloon animals are the same. I’ve set them up around my room now, and as I look at them, like the pillar, they remind me of celebration and love, they remind me of the promises of God to help me through the hard times and to use all things for good. They remind me that just as God promised his presence to Jacob, I have the same privilege here and now and today, and they remind me that I have some really good friends who choose to celebrate with me too. Such a blessing.
I’m much better when I have somthing measurable to celebrate, it feels wooly in those moments when I’m praying, “thankyou God for lighting this night up and showing me the paths to walk on,” while it’s still dark and foggy outside.
Returning to the story, a few chapters later, in Genesis 35, Jacob takes his whole family back to Bethel, to the stone he had set up all those years previously, and he builds a proper altar there. We are told that God appeared to him again, promised to give him an inheritance, and reminded him of his new name. At this point Jacob has the benefit of hindsight, he can go back and say, “You did what you said you would God.”
Most times we find ourselves in the 6 chapters in between Jacob’s initial experience and his obdience in returning to Bethel. But we can still remember the memory of the pillars and what they mean to us. There are thousands of symbols we can adopt to do this - a cross & chain round the neck, a ring with certain meaning, a painting on our wall that reminds us what God tasked us to do.
I haven’t got this celebration thing all sussed, but I have been feeling that increased sense of purity and connection when I’m celebrating even from a place of difficulty or pain. I want to know in more depth what it means to have a celebrating God, how he interacts with us in celebration, and how we ensure our celebrating focuses around transforming actions, rather than our own thoughts or agendas.
Until then I’ll just stick with my balloon creature prayer-buddies.
The Joy of 24-7
Friday night afforded me the opportunity to get back into the swing of late night prayer, and I loved it. I was at a church in South East London for their monthly youth night of prayer. There were about 20 young people there between the ages of 15-20ish, and they prayed up a storm!
I’d forgotten the buzz that comes from sitting in a semi dark room, knowing that you are going to be there for the next twelve hours, anticipating where prayer is going to take you.
I’d forgotten how exciting it is to be around a bunch of youth who just so want to pray, and who will do any number of wacky creative prayer excercises as part of this.
I was humbled and amazed to hear some beautiful and honest prayers, you know the type that aren’t slick or polished but raw and heartfelt.
I was amazed to hear them praying for someone in their community who is struggling at the moment. Their grip of spiritual warfare was impressive.
I loved the 3am slot, where we just all stood in a circle and said thankyou to God. It could have gone on for hours, and there was a lovely sense of worship and adoration.
I also loved my faithful armour-bearing friend back home in Wandsworth, who stayed up till 4am, at home on his own to pray alongside us. That was such a blessing.
Most of all I loved it that Our Father caught all of this. That he was listening and present for every minute of those hours. That he strengthened us when the caffiene wore off and guided our prayers, that he even inhabited the moments of silence. That he hovered over the young people sleeping in corners, That he rejoiced and delighted in each of them.
I loved it that a group of them snuck out in the early hours of the morning and ‘tin-foiled’ some of the leader’s cars too. A top moment!!
Revival?
I can hear that thunder in the distance
Like a train on the edge of town
I can feel the brooding of Your Spirit
“Lay your burdens down, Lay your burdens down”.
Revive us, Revive us,
Revive us with your fire!
Copyright © 1998 Daybreak Music Ltd.
Everywhere I go at the moment there seems to be whisperings about revival. “Have you heard what is happening in Florida” seems to be a common topic of conversation in some of the circles I find myself in.
At this point I should admit to a penchant for cynicism. You are reading the musings of a girl who, in her teens, utterly shunned anything emitting a vaguely charismatic aroma. So much so that me and my best friend once walked out of a meeting because, wait for it, they dared to speak in tongues. (I imagine God had a good laughing fit three years later when me and the same friend began earnestly seeking the very same gift… ooops!).
Anyway, I was brought up believing that revivals don’t happen, the gifts of the spirit aren’t for now, this is all there is.
Thankfully God arrested me in my tracks and that view has completely changed. Now I find myself marvelling at the power of the Holy Spirit and praying for more of a breakout of it in the Salvation Army. But you understand when I say that I haven’t always been that open to stuff!!
So my internal response to news of supernatural healings aplenty was firstly reticence. (I probably shouldn’t admit that), but as more and more stories leak out, and as what is happening in Florida seems to be part of a whole host of other concurrent stuff, I have been challenged to stretch my view a little.
Last night I heard a great sermon about the nature of revival, how the Acts 2:42-47 descritpion is a list of characteristics of a ‘normal’ church, and thus none of us have really experienced ‘normal’. The early church didn’t need revival because it was ‘vived’ enough. The speaker identified some things that are always present in a revival as follows:
- Passionate worship – Christians falling love with God all over again
- Demonstrations of God’s power – signs and wonders
- Salvations – people given the choice to respond to the gospel and choosing affirmatively.
He said that revival is something we can’t dredge up or put on, the Holy Spirit instigates it. But it is something that we can prepare for. We can do this by pursuing the folowing:
- Unity with other churches/Christians
- Courageous faith
- Sincere and heartfelt prayer
After all this, which was all good stuff, we had a time of response and prayer which turned into one of the most powerful outpourings of the Holy Spirit I’ve been in, in a long time. People were healed physically, people received new gifts, there was a sense of expectancy and presence in that room that left most of the congregation awed and silenced. Worship went on and on, every time they tried to stop people just stayed, silent and still in prayer. It was awesome.
What I loved about last night was that this wasn’t happening in some far away country, replayed on the fuzzy screen of my laptop, I was watching the power of God at work in front of my eyes. He was doing big things, in my here and now, in a random corner of Wandsworth. I recognised the tug of God’s challenge on my heart as my cynicism further dissipated, and I began to believe that this stuff really could happen in my surroundings, in my lifetime.
What’s really exciting also is that I have heard repeated stories like this, from churches all over the UK, where expectancy seems to be rising and God’s power is at work. If I couple that with things like the Global day of Prayer, the response to Hope 2008 accross the country, the Pentecost festival here in London, the increase in Street Pastor teams throughout the country etc, I feel like this growing spark of excitement that these are important times. Like the words in the song above, it feels like something is close, you can hear the rumble of it like a ‘train on the edge of town’, and I really don’t want to miss out on what God is up to, through cynicism or self-centredness or plain apathy.
In the meantime, I want to pursue the three points above – unity, faith and prayer. I don’t know what God is up to and I don’t know what this is all going to look like, but something in me is stirred.
Surely it’s not just me?
