Real Life

Let me begin with an apology. I’m sorry for the lengthy silence. For the first few days it was because of poor health. The following week or so I was finishing up coursework, then for the last month or so I’ve been run off my feet (in a good way) as an intern in Edinburgh.

It has been manic and challenging and there have been many things that I have found really quite difficult. I haven’t had the time to write an I have sorely missed it. This blog was never intended for you guys, the readers, though it is sweet of you to pass through and I am glad that you are here. I keep it though because I love to write and the fact that anyone else enjoys it is only an additional pleasure.

So here, by the grace of God, we are. Please accept my apology and let us return to the things at hand.

*    *     *

Having just come to the end of a week of evangelism, a week like never before, I kept some notes and so I have compiled some brief snippets of the events this week. There are a few things that I would like to consider in greater depth so this is only a short one.

Day One: We told our guests of a battle between my friend’s great-great grandfather and Napoleon’s cousin in the French Invasion of Stirling. They were bewildered by it all and could not understand the laughter. Our guests reached for heaven as God smiled through at their song.

Day Two: No one came, but the sweet preacher, with his misplaced accent, stirred our souls and renewed our confidence. We could not help but offer up sparks of thankfulness.

Day Three: I befriended an Indian sister and her husband over a shared love of jellybeans and watched new friends spark and glow around an obscure hockey team. An old lady who lived in the shadow of the multis told me she didn’t care about the afterlife and a man apologised for his absence, the sorrow pooling in the shadows about his shoes, reaching out and pleading to be heard. A man with pebbles in his feet heard the gospel for the first time.

Day Four: Old women slammed doors on eternity. I discovered how the pain of a false gospel can deepen friendships and begin them anew. A homeless man took sandwiches and a cellist laughed at a story about an electric guitar. As the sweet preacher preached, an old lady with a crooked spine was grasping for eternity, and across the city the man with pebbles in his feet returned.

Day Five: We stormed the castle an Jericho’s doors were flung wide before us. One day we hope that Rahab will make herself known. In the afternoon we rested. We climbed a hill and looked out over lost rooftops, marvelling at their beauty nonetheless. The man with pebbles in his feet forgot the music but his brother phoned from Australia and gave him into our care. My heart was ill at ease for fear of offense given. I could not bear it if it were.

Day Six: It was a curious day. We lapped up all the rest that we could find before returning in our search for Rahab. A man who looked like the Dalai Lama encouraged and challenged us as he made us laugh, and an American man told of a baptism on a beach in Greece. The preacher was on fire and it did not rain. Tomorrow ached for a little music.

Day Seven: Rain soothed us with an extra hour of sleep for which we were more than thankful. We paced Princes Street, handing precious gems to the blind and the deaf. My friend picked up a few choice words from a man not yet drunk enough to have ceased reeling from the political news. In the afternoon we caught sunshine and frisbees and snatches of tunes and ate ice-cream as we bonded over stories and radio shows. The preacher called us to Christ and spread his arms wide into the fading light.

Day Eight: We were moved by an old man’s tears glinting in the early light as he called us to remember that seeds take time to grow. Music filled our tired souls, exhausted with thankfulness. Cream tea and scones soothed the sadness of the looming parting and the silent saint preached with passion and power one final time. The last supper followed with laughter alone then the last of them were gone into the night and only God’s glory and a thank you note remained.

After: Today we did not wake. There was room at the breakfast table for all and we sorely missed the company. Beds were stripped, rooms were cleaned, the house lay empty, but the sweetness of fellowship lingered on our tongues and we knew that in time or in eternity, we’d bring in the harvest and we’d see each other again.

4 thoughts on “Real Life

    1. Indeed they did :) The man with pebbles in his feet has some sort of illness that made his feet feel that way. It has veen a good week and God is gracious to us. I’ll probably write more about it as time goes by :)

      Liked by 1 person

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