I have been taken on a journey with story lately. This journey began by hearing about the conference of the same name held in Chicago by Ben Arment. I then followed Emma Boyd’s journey to story, her experiences at the conference and her numerous blog posts about how the concept of story is challenging and changing her. Therefore, it is in that spirit that I share with you the following…
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I met a gentleman on the street today.
It was 11am and I was on my way to Common Grounds in Belfast for a coffee and he approached me outside the church just around the corner. He decided to break the ice by telling me that he was evicted from his house at midnight and had spent his first night on the streets. He was cradling a mug of warm tea…barely, whilst in the other hand he was pinching a cigarette. He was clearly exhausted and cold. he told me he had managed to get the cup of tea he was holding, and a sandwich a couple of hours earlier.
We only spoke for about 10 minutes (10 minutes more than the previous passers by had given him) yet he shared some of his story with me. he shared his story all the while edging towards me. He told me that what the papers had said about him was not true…he was very adamant about this. I then asked him what the papers had said about him. He told me that they were saying that he had murdered his son.
He broke down.
Tears streaming down his confused face.
Now, I cannot testify to the veracity of his story, or that of the papers. I just knew that before was a man broken. That made me broken.
He seemed embarrassed by his tears…I just let him continue thinking it best.
When he stopped crying he told me he had been off alcohol for 38 weeks. I congratulated him for this. However, he seemed confused all the time we were talking, stopping to ask my name several times. A friendly character his mind seemed ravaged and ruined by a hard life, a life of drugs, alcohol, and possibly abuse.
As I was on my way for a coffee I offered him along with the offer of hot food. He declined. He was waiting outside the church for a meeting with the minister. He said the church would look after him.
Beautiful.
A broken person coming to the church for refuge, for charity.
Surely this is why we exist…to engage with a broken world, to restore a broken world.
This is proof that the church still has valid reason to exist. People like this still come to the church, expectant. They come, probably knowing little of Christ, but having some conviction of his transforming power.
I couldn’t tempt him away. He insisted on waiting for his meeting with the minister whose name he couldn’t recall for the life of him. He bid me farewell and we departed. I cannot remember the gentleman’s name. I’m not convinced he can.
However, I hope and pray that the church looked after him, and the church met his needs and fulfilled their duty.
Filed under: Uncategorized , Action, Belfast, Charity, Christianity, Church, Coffee, Culture, Hope, Justice, Love, Northern Ireland, People, Social Action, Social Justice, Story


