Jane {Hope}

Jane* is a young lady that I met 3 years ago. That label is perhaps a little grand for her just yet; she is still a child, not yet in high school. My first impressions of Jane were that she was the original Wild Child. She could not stay still, she was always shouting, she had no internal checkpoints to tell her what was appropriate. 

Jane comes from a huge family: 13 siblings and counting. Many of her older brothers and sisters have been through the care system, and I have been involved in supporting one of them as she made the transition back home. Last time I visited the family, I heard that two of her older brothers are currently in prison. 
Jane has caused me some trouble over the past few years. She has disobeyed adults who care about her; she has bullied children who wanted to be her friend. She's been rude to a police officer when he challenged her behaviour in the street. Periodically, her behaviour improves dramatically and she tells me proudly that she has received 'star of the week' in school. Mum comes out and tells me how proud she is of Jane's hard work. But there's always something to upset the balance and send things off course again. Once it was when her little sister was born. Once when the kitchen ceiling fell through, inches away from mum's head. It was months before the council found another house for them to move into. 

On the surface, it's a hopeless situation. I can't fix Jane. I've tried, but I'm not enough. All of the signs and role models around her don't offer much hope either. The circumstances seem hopeless, but I've been learning something new. Hope in circumstances is not the same as hope in God**. Our hope doesn't come from what we can see. Our hope comes from above. 

For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. (Romans 8:24-25, ESV)

Just two streets down from Jane, there is a gentleman who moved to this part of the city as his family grew. He was so shocked by the lack of any provision for young people in the area that he started taking his piano out onto the street for singalongs with all the neighbours. The whole street comes out to join in and make requests. There are many pockets of tangible, real-life hope that can be seen and reported in these places, and I would like to believe that the hours I have poured into those streets will be counted among the examples in years to come.

It would be easy to hold onto these stories as examples of hope for my city, for our world. But if our hope is founded on what we see, then how do we respond to the stories of sickness, unemployment and abuse that also abound? Where will my strength come from as I walk through the dark valleys?

Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war arise against me, yet I will be confident. I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! (Psalm 27:3, 13 ESV)

Let's hope in something that won't disappoint.

*   Not her real name
**  This is a brilliant, grounded article that you should read.

Walking Home

It is dark, but not cold. It’s warm enough that I can walk home with just a light t-shirt and not feel the chill. The streets, so familiar by day, seem strange and unknown in the dark. The pavements are patched up with tarmac that gleams under the streetlights and its inhabitants are almost entirely unisex, the women having gone indoors long before dusk. Only a trio of girls whose mothers believe they are at a friend’s house and a lady out drinking with her man and his mates buck the trend. There is an aroma of fine spices and the faint sound of Asian music. Shops that were weathered and empty this morning are now lit up and filled with people in their best finery, feasting and celebrating. I am not in some far-off country but in Harehills, Leeds, a neighbourhood homing representatives of almost any other nation you could name.

I’m walking home. I notice the strangeness, feel a little alien on the streets. I enjoy the freedom of walking alone but there’s a slight thrill, a sense of danger and I’m glad my mother believes that I am at a friend’s house too. This may be “my” country, but these are not my streets. Not because I’m white; some of those out tonight have British ancestors far out-dating my own; but because I’m green. I’m new. It’s still strange to me. I pass two men standing in a bus stop in long kurta robes. I turn off the main road and meet the smell of alcohol as a group sit in their yard drinking beer. A bunch of noisy youths cross in front of me and finally it comes into view, and then I am there: home. The gate squeaks, the door clatters open and closed again and the strangeness is gone, locked outside on a warm, dark night.

Not a Minority Mindset

Wednesday was a busy day. My bike was in the shop getting some working breaks fitted so I had to get up super-early to make the 40 minute walk to work in time to arrive by 7. It was a busy shift with such adventures as the boiler breaking and having to wash the old-fashioned way by pouring kettles of water into the bath. Fun times! It was also kidz klub visiting day- the first time back after half term so I was looking forward to getting out and seeing all the kids again, though not excited at the prospect of the rain and drizzle that has been falling from the sky all week! A series of events meant that I had to make it into town and out again within an hour of finishing work to pick up our visiting pack with all the colouring sheets we take out to the kids, so I jumped onto the bus after work.

Sitting there, catching my breath and minding my own business, a couple of people got onto the bus and started having a fairly loud conversation just behind me. I defy anyone to sit on the bus and not listen to the conversations going on around them- the human being is innately nosey (but what's most fun is to try and imagine what the people you can hear behind you will look like, and being surprised by how inaccurate you were when you/they get off). So these people were talking, and one girl was describing her job and what she did- it was some kind of charity. She went on to describe how there could sometimes be conflict between Christian and non-Christian service users and staff, and how that was a shame, and then started talking about her church and an event that was happening soon. Hmm, I thought, another Christian on the bus! So often I assume that I am the only Christian in whatever environment I find myself. That's not a bad thing in itself, but it can feel lonely sometimes.

As I was getting off the bus (and had a quick peek behind me- as always my imagined image of these two was very far from the truth!) I overheard a couple of old ladies talking about the new Christian bookshop that's just opened in Leeds near the bus stop, and whether they'd been in there yet. This bus is full of Christians!! I carried on my way, a little amused by what had happened.

Visiting pack collected, it was cold and wet and the prospect of walking home in order to walk for another two hours was just too much, so I opted for the bus again. I stepped inside the bus stop to shelter from the wind and rain, and the only other lady there was on the phone. "Don't worry," she was saying, "only God knows our future. Just trust in Him." Seriously. Christians everywhere!! It made me smile to myself that everywhere I went, people were relying on and trusting in God. I'm part of a big family, and it's good to remember that.

I'll take any excuse to post a video, and this one's pretty clever, though maybe be careful if you get motion sickness...

Look what I found!

I went 'prayer-walking' again today in the blazing sunshine. I'm not sure it really counts to be honest, more like just walking around, learning the neighbourhood, taking in the sights, sounds and smells as I go, and forgetting from time to time that I'm still in England. It's fun.

Today I planned a route before I went out, to try and discover some new areas, and discover new areas I did! My most exciting discovery was down a little back road that I'd chosen to go along to stay off the main road for a little bit longer, which had a huge mural all along it.

"Pockets of Hope" is the correct poetic term, I believe.

Wherever the sole of your foot shall tread...

Yesterday I went for a prayer walk around an area of Leeds called Harehills. Lots of people I've spoken to recently seem to be prayer-walking the area and it's a place I need to invest some time into. Since my Kidz Klub round had been moved forwards a day I thought I'd make use of the extra time by going to investigate.

I don't really know how to prayer walk, especially not on my own. It's easy to get distracted by things that you see, or to let your thoughts run away down different routes. But I walked, and kept my eyes open to see what was going on. I zigzagged up and down terraced streets; I sought out the huge Mosque and the new library and supermarket that are being built in the centre of the community. I looked, I listened, and I asked God that he would touch these streets. When I got distracted I took comfort in the fact that just by my very being there, by the soles of my feet touching those pavements, I was bringing the Spirit and rule of God to that area.

And I guess I'll try again. History is littered with people who didn't really know what they were doing but decided to give it a go anyway and learn as they went. That's how prayer movements and revivals start. So I will learn those streets and hear their stories. I'll walk and pray, or worship, or just wonder what's coming next, but Harehills will find itself quietly invaded with love.

Image © Copyright Betty Longbottom and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

I walked here