A tribute

He was a man who was ordinary, in the most extraordinary way.

He was a man in whose words I found refuge. In times of wilderness or joy, this mans very being spoke of something so much bigger. His life of ministry stretched behind him, long hard and not perfect - but even in the last months his plans and purposes, his steam and his passion never dulled. He spoke as if the world was not saved and he would do his best to touch, and speak and feel his way through the crowds of people that needed to know a loving Father.

He was a man whose words held the weight of a life lived in the presence of the Lord. Whose living room was a place of safety and open-ness and every word uttered spoke of a life lived in the throne room of God. He spoke of this Father with such passion, such depth, such compassion and such grace.

He was a man who was not just a minister, a follower of Jesus or my Poppa - He was a friend. A friend that listened, that spoke truth, that challenged and comforted and was forthcoming with his shortcomings. He was a friend who mulled over ministry and trials - who spoke insight and truth and passion and whose words were always seasoned with grace.

He was a man who gave a young girl like me, on her return to New Zealand an unexpected place of peace. And in a season of uncertainty, wilderness his very being, his welcome and enthusiasm brought a place to let the uneasy words rest, the experiences in ministry and life a place to be talked through and spoken into.
My homesick soul found solace and peace in his life - one which was spent on earth for people and for the Lord, but whose soul also longed for home. The home that was found in the eyes of his father.

He was a man whose life and death invites us to not just weep - but challenges us to keep going, to build upon all that he began, to press in deeper and know more clearly this God that he knew and speaks of. To love people, to break down the black and white and see grace in the grey.

He has been called home. He has been received home into the arms of his loving Father and dearest friend.
We mourn over the loss of this delightful soul.
But we ask that we be taken further.

The search for home

'I am calling you home' He whispered to me over and over again, ' I am calling you home.'

Home. A safe place, a place of fullness, a place in which the very reason I have been created is uncovered, where all those pieces, those things, longings and desires within me that don't make sense, that don't fit, those things that don't even have words, that are misunderstood all find a place to rest. 

Gillingham was my home. The place where I was called, my purpose, my place of satisfaction, my place that whispered things that set my heart alight, the place whose brokeness made parts of me come alive, the place of safety and knowledge of my call. 

But maybe there were aspects of Gillingham that spoke of a greater sense of being at home, maybe the people I met and the things that I saw pointed to a greater meaning of this concept of being at home. Maybe the things that made my heart come alive, the conversations that fitted, the people that knew me, knew those broken and whole pieces within me and embraced me - maybe they spoke of a larger and more maginificent meaning of the word 'home'

As I spent the last few days in England saying goodbye to people and places - there was a sense of leaving home behind, of being pulled away from those people and places that were home for me. 

There are pieces of me find home in people, in places, in situations, in conversations.  

As I came off the plane and saw my mum, I found aspects of home in her arms, in the familiarity, in the knowledge of being known and accepted. 

There are pieces of me find home in people, in places, in situations, in conversations.  

We feel at home with our closest friends, kindred spirits, whose conversations and cuddles bring something out in us that makes us feel like things are as they should be. 

We feel at home in the closeness of that one we truly love that makes our heart want to explode and in whose arms we feel the fullness of who we were meant to be. 

We feel at home when we look at the sea, the stars, when a child puts their hand in ours, when we sit with those we love, being fully known, and hear grace.

We find home in those people whose hearts sing the same tune as ours, when we walk the streets of somewhere we know we are meant to be. 

Maybe, just maybe, all these things speak of a bigger home - a home where we can be fully at rest and peace, a home where our hearts are known as they are and where everything in us feels alive and well. 

My heart is on the search for the wider meaning of being at home - wholly and fully at peace and rest. Wholly and fully working at something that makes my whole self come alive. That thing that brings out those bits within me that are otherwise hidden, that calls into being those things that are truly and magnificently me, that place where everything becomes clear, comes into line and my body can breathe a sigh of relief. Where the harshness and broken-ness of this world is gone.

He called me home, to Hamilton to begin my search for home. He has brought me back to where I first began. He led me here in search of a wider meaning of home. A wider search for purpose and calling. A deeper knowledge of what it means to have my home in him. It will be raw and dissatisfying. 

I catch glimpses of being home.

But there is still a feeling of homelessness. 

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” C.S Lewis

Maybe, just maybe, the glimpses of being home that I find in people, places and situations, where my heart is fully alive but fully at rest speak of a wider sense of being home - the being at home that can only happen when I am with Jesus - when I am fully at rest in a place where wholeness and fullness is possible, where goodbyes and sadness are no longer there, where my heart is at home and alive. Maybe, just maybe, heaven is what my heart longs for. 

Even Jesus speaks of having no place to lay his head. This tells me that in this world he had no home, he had no feeling of home - he felt he had no place to rest. Jesus even had the feeling of homelessness. We homeless lot are in good company.

But when he healed people, when he met with ordinary people, when he saw people come to fullness and wholeness, when he was having banter with his disciples, when he met with the Lord quietly on his own, poured out his heart to the father, there is no doubt in my mind that he would have felt or seen glimpses of being at home. But he would have seen glimpses of being at home in heaven, that peace that comes from seeing the peace that his father brought him, that perfectness of heaven - where broken-ness, turmoil, sadness and the uncomfortable will no longer exist.

Jesus is kind enough to give us glimpses of being at home, in the brokeness and harshness of this world.

We catch glimpses of being home.

But there is still a feeling of homelessness. 

But whilst on this earth the feeling of homelessness may be a lasting one, as I battle out what it means to have a home that is not of this earth, to sit in the uncomfortable place of no answers and long for home I long for the final homecoming, where Jesus will come and take me to a place where I will be at home, my body will be at rest, those glimpses of home we see in people and places will all join together and our brokeness will be made whole as we get to sit in the gloriousness of meeting Jesus in wholeness and fullness. Where He will wipe every tear from our eyes, where mourning will be no more and pain will cease. Where joy, peace and wholeness will reign.  

But even as I write, dissatisfaction rises within me. I dont want to have to wait to find home. I want to be able to feel at home here, to feel satisfied and for the longings of my heart to be met. Its easier that way. It's much easier than sitting with dissatisfaction.
I don't want the answer to be to sit and wait in the uncomfortable. 

And even as I write he whispers, 'I haven't called you to take the easy road.'
I hear this as truth. But as uncomfortable truth. 

I am always so hesitant to hear that whilst on this not so easy road, I will find home in the eyes of Jesus. My edges, my lack of answers, my dissatisfaction, my rough bits, my desires and longings, my need for safety and security will be put to rest as I sit with him and allow him to be home for me in a place that does not feel like home. 

He has told me this journey of home will be raw, dissatisfying and uncomfortable. But for now, I will take the glimpses, I will long for more, but I will thank him for the glimpses of a place and a time where my heart will be fully at home in Him. 
I will continue to wrestle, but I will take the glimpses.

As the rain poured down and I danced and I danced, He whispered to me 'Just let go.'
I knelt in my back garden, wet through, yet so very alive.

Subconciously over the year, I had led myself to believe that following Jesus was all about persecution, flogging, people hating, being misunderstood, and giving God the things that you really love in order for him to notice you and see you as worthy. So as I gave my clothes to charity shops, gave people far more time than I had, got up tired again and again to go and run myself ragged doing something for Jesus, I felt like I was achieving gold, that this was what Jesus wanted for me, that he desired works and sacrifice. As joy slipped away I began to feel that maybe all God wanted was workers, rather than friends.

And in the moments that I began to feel joy creeping in, I would shut it down. Being happy and enjoying life was for those who had time. I didn't.

In all honesty, I think that too often I had been giving God things, as if punishing myself, as if trying to be made worthy of his love, trying to earn this great privilege it was to follow Him. Here I was trying to push these things at Him saying 'please take them' and He had been there with his hands up in the air trying to show me that He wanted me to enjoy what He had given me. That He delights in me, as I delight in the things of this world that make me happy, that feed my heart. I had been giving out of a place of my own low self worth. I had been trying to earn a place in the kingdom, trying to push the things that I enjoyed onto Jesus.

Because He couldn't possibly want me to enjoy myself right?

Because the more terrible I felt, the less I had, the more holes I had in my clothes and downtrodden I was, the closer I was to Jesus, right?

Isn't this exactly what Jesus said we shouldn't do when speaking to the Pharisees?

'I desire mercy not sacrifice'
those words that hit the heart. 
MERCY, not sacrifice. 

He cares far more about our hearts, about us, about how we treat people, than what we can give him. The striving, the giving, the self denial means nothing. If I lived my life on earth, delighting in him, traveling and being engulfed in His beauty, I would still get to heaven and he would say 'good job' give me a fist pump and discuss with me the things that I loved about him and He loved about me.

Too many Christians are so sad. So devoid of joy. I speak to people and there is no life in their eyes, there is no joy in their hearts. If we are following this incredible man called Jesus, if we know Him, know His heart,then surely we would know that he is calling us to a life of indescribable joy - of delighting in the small things. He delights in us, whilst we delight in the desires of our heart. 

My Jesus threw parties. He hung out with tax collectors and prostitutes who wouldn't have been the dullest of bunch. He turned water into wine, he made humans -a colourful bunch. He designed us to love things, he designed our hearts to get joy from the small and simple. He loves it when we laugh, he loves it when we hangout with friends that 'get us' and he loves it when we are happy. He was a man that was excitable, playful, mischevious and full of joy. He is so far from dull.

Those things that make your heart skip, those things that fill your soul with indescribable bubbling over joy, those things that make you stop and wonder, those seemingly unproductive, frivolous activities that others see as silly. That is the place where God sows his seed of joy and as we do things that we love, as we enjoy ourselves, it is watered and grows.

He has been teaching me joy. Quiet joy. Bubbling over joy that makes me throw my head back and laugh heartily. The joy that makes me go out and dance in the rain. The joy that makes me dance in the kitchen.

Drink deep of His joy and let all else flow from that.

There is something in me that thinks we just all need to not be so serious.

Because as we let go,allow ourselves to be filled with joy, we glorify God. 
Someone once said to me that to be filled with joy, to take hold of it is the bravest thing we can do.
You are allowed to be happy. In fact, we are called to be full of joy.

This world needs joy. And I know the man who gives it. Jesus. The joy that doesn't leave you empty, the joy that fills rather than takes, the joy that will still be there in the morning, the joy that cuts through despair. The joy that fills with hope, that doesn't disappoint. 

Please don't hear me say that you can't be hurting, broken and lost. I am not saying that at all. In fact, God draws so close to us in those moments and he heals and restores us. But His promise is this:

'He will provide for all those who grieve..
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, 
the oil of joy instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a Spirit of despair.'
Isaiah 61:3

He has put a seed of joy in me, and as I do things that I love, that feed my soul, those frivolous and seemingly unproductive things of life; talking to strangers, writing, taking endless photos, picking flowers, listening to a song, baking, drinking copious amounts of tea, dancing, The seed of joy grows and grows. And as I do these things I can feel His delight as he sees me doing what I love.

Don't see it as something else on your list that you can tick off, or that you are seemingly failing at. He gives it to us as we step out and enjoy ourselves. As we find what we love to do, what feeds our soul and stirs us to do more. As we DWELL in the one that brings us joy, we will find eternal pleasure.
'You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy, at Your right hand there are pleasures forevermore'
Psalm 16:11 

Be brave and take hold of joy.
As the rain poured down and I danced and I danced, He whispered to me 'Just let go.'

Home.

So I've been thinking. Jesus is often so misunderstood. I think He must look at us sometimes and beg us to truly know him, to spend time with him and ask him what he thinks. Now I'm not saying I am an expert. No way. But I do know Him. And He knows me. And he has been real faithful to reveal a few things to me about who he is. I am always so blown away. SO much grace.

The Jesus I know is a man who had a rugged bunch of followers. The broken, the sick, the prostitutes, the doubters, the addicts, the ones cast out by society, the adulterers, the depressives, those with mess.
These were the ones that truly recognised who he was. These were the ones he made time for, the ones he saw worthy of being with. These were the ones that KNEW that in his presence they could be free, they could be healed. They were the ones who knew they needed his grace, his healing touch, who knew he was the only one that truly saw their hearts, saw their worth, saw past their pasts, their broken lives and saw the gems that were inside them. These were the ones crazy enough to take him at his word.

I love this quote by Charles Spurgeon
'But yonder are the men we seek for. Forlorn, and lost, full of evil, and self-condemned, you are the characters we seek. You that feel as if you were possessed with evil spirits, and you that are leprous with sin, you are the persons in whom Jesus will find ample room and verge enough for the display of his holy skill. Of you I might say, as he once said of the man born blind: you are here that the works of God may be manifest in you. You, with your guilt and your depravity, you furnish the empty vessels into which his grace may be poured, the sick souls upon whom he may display his matchless power to bless and save.'

A few months ago, I was facing some pretty broken pieces inside of myself. I was stuck in the mud, in a whole heap of stuff that made me feel so unworthy and broken. Pieces that made me think that Jesus would never have me, would never give me the time of day, pieces that I wanted to hide from him in shame and guilt. But in that time, with tear stained face, he came in his cleanliness and began to dig me out of the mud. With love in his eyes, and his robe getting messier and messier, he continued begging and pleading with me to know how much He wanted me, in my broken and dirty state. His grace is enough.

Jesus touched the leper, he knelt down beside the adulterer, he spoke to the Prostitute, he ate with the tax collectors. He is the one who tells the story of the son who left home, having stolen his Fathers money and off to a place where he frittered it all away on sex, drugs and alcohol. When the money was gone he began to remember all the love and acceptance he had at home, but he felt far too unworthy to return. He slowly began to walk home, hoping his Father would take him back. His sandals worn through, his clothes dirty and smelly and no money. As soon as the Father saw his son coming from afar he ran to meet him, clasped him close to his chest and announced to the town his Son had come home. The party was on. In the Sons broken-ness and mess, the Father took him back with great love.  Jesus is the Father who saw the broken, sees our hearts and calls us worthy.

I know a Jesus who is calling His prodigal sons to return. The ones who have been hurt, turned away by people, used and abused, messed up, the suicidal, the prostitutes, the addicts. We are the leper, the prostitute, the young mum, the depressive, the desperate, the broken. WE are those. We are all messy. When my brokenness becomes too much for me, HE is the one who encourages, heals and restores. He brings freedom to the bound up.

He looks past that, into our hearts and sees the real worth. With love in his eyes he touches us right where the pain is too much, where we feel our dirtiest or our most desperate and says 'It's enough! Youve dealt with this for too long. I am all you need.'
He is the Jesus that sees us tearstained and calls us to Him. He begs us to come home, to see what he has to offer - wholeness and fullness - to let Him show us our true worth, to see ourselves as he sees us.

'YOU whom the church has rejected, you whom have been spat out by religion, you whom have voices in your head and hardness or heart. You who are condemned and live life in the dark; YOU are whom God will use.You are whom God will pour himself out on to be used for his glory.You will be full, you will again be joyful, you whom society has given up on..You are whom God will use. You who have had the life sucked out of you and that feel as if you are on the bottom of the heap. YOU are who Chist spends his time with. You are who He is calling to be part of a church that is unlike any other.'

I truly believe that God is calling people to him that would never have believed that he had time for them, he is calling people that have been disillusioned by church, who have been hurt by people, who are the ones who make people feel uncomfortable with their questioning, the broken, the ones society has given up on to come to know Him. The real Him. The Jesus who heals and restores. The Jesus who gives LIFE to those who feel like death. The ones that would never have given 'religion' a chance, but when faced with the reality of Jesus, will rise up and begin to do church like no other. Broken, messy church.
Church where the music is loud and raucous, with tear stained faces people meet with Jesus. The addict and the prostitute stand in the presence of God, knowing that they are clean in his eyes, that they are of the same worth of those around. Where the air smells of alcohol, where the carpet is messy and the broken are made to feel at home. Where the Prodigal Sons are welcomed into the arms of Jesus - tear stained, messy, broke and so unworthy. Where people are free to be them in the knowledge and grace that Jesus sees them and welcomes them home.

His grace is enough. The ordinary everyday Jesus.
Looks into OUR hearts and when all we see is darkness HE sees real worth.
He is calling us home to Him.

hope.

There is a community.  It consists of a few dirty streets, terraced housing and youth on every corner. Rising out of the small patches of grass and the broken cobbles is rows upon rows of people stacked high in council flats. People, real people, with desperate stories of life not turning out how they expected, living amongst the cracked paint and the closed doors tarnished with the brush of hopelessness. But there is hope. Look beyond these flats, look deeper, scratch the surface, meet the people and there you will see the beginnings of the kingdom. There you will begin to see not just the stories, not just the labels, but the individuals.

His skin was olive and in his hands he held a shiny beer can. Not unusual for 3pm on a Wednesday afternoon. His sunglasses covered any emotion that could have been playing in his eyes. His five year old son, with unruly black hair and a mischevious smile playing on his lips, raced through the area around the football cage. As I sat with him, I wondered how he had gotten the scar that spanned his face, but I was more interested in what he had to say. As he took a sip from his can he began to chat about his ex partner, his struggle with his son, how hard the last years had been but how he was just getting his life back on track. With genuine interest he reciprocated the friendly questioning and I began to share how I came to be in Gillingham. Such a blessing to enter into these peoples lives. As he greeted everyone by name that passed by and began to tell some of the youth that he used to drink in the pub with their dads I began to realise his roots here were deep and when life caved in, he came back to what he knew, Gillingham. This town. He began to tell me of how his ex-partner had been a 'bible basher Christian type' and when I mentioned that I also was 'one of those' he replied with respect.

As the conversation moved on to normal day to day musings, and I began to soak in the surroundings from the bench I was on, I was hit with the realisation that I was catching glimpses of Gods kingdom right where I was. One blink and I would have missed it, earthly eyes and I would have just seen community kids playing football and a man drinking beer on a bench. But there were people, meeting together, talking, sharing life and Jesus, being open to opportunities in the dismal surroundings. And joy began to surge in my heart. The kids, scruffily dressed, playing football but with positive words, a sense of community. And in my heart I knew that Jesus was there, this place was soaked in Him, and as the kids came over and chatted there was no doubt in my mind that there is HOPE, that these kids will know truth and be brought up in the knowledge they are worthwhile. In earthly terms, this stuff is a pittance. But in heavenly terms, seeing these things with fresh eyes, huge ground for the Kingdom was taking place. Walking past, it could have just been any old bunch of youth on any given day, but there was far more. God was there in our midst, oceans of HOPE flowing and glimpses of heaven on earth were everywhere. This is what my heaven will look like. What an honour.

There is always hope. Oceans of it. No one or nothing is EVER completely consumed. There is never anything, no matter how dismal or ugly, that is void of this little word. HOPE.
It's a tough one. Seeing hope where there, at first glimpse, seems to be nothing. defying everyone esle's thoughts and ideas, and REFUSING to let hopelessness consume people and places. I refuse to believe that people are past the point of it and that there is nothing more. There is always hope.
When everything, taken at face value, seems to scream despair just scratch the surface, go deeper, meet the people and you will come to believe that there is glimpses of hope, glimpses of the kingdom in places that people who don't have the eyes to see, simply miss.
 I desire to fix my eyes on the unseen. HOPE. The things that God is doing in these areas. The glimpses of the kingdom that, once your eyes are opened to it, appear. The conversations seasoned with words of truth, the stories of people that have had heartache and are broken, but the joy that rises in the heart when a community begins to move, when a community begins to see Jesus, starts to capture the vision. In this place there is no room for hopelessness. It has been replaced by hope.
Praise God.

yes please. amen.

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek to be consoled as to console,
to be understood as to understand,
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit,
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen.

oh, Gillingham.

These last weeks have sped by. I am unsure how this has happened, or where they have gone, all I know is it's been 6 months since I left the home country and the adventure is still going on. I am STILL so blessed to be in Gillingham. I was running the streets today (yes, this occasionally does happen) and as I took in my surroundings, it hit me that I was really truly in Gillingham, the town I have longed for. Now, this may seem unusual due to the length of time I have already been here but sometimes it just happens and I get this overwhelming, and sometimes surreal, sense of joy and realisation that I am ACTUALLY here. Truly AMAZING. I am so blessed to be here, FREE, not tied down to anything, but just able to live life, listen to God and just BE in this town. And then there are times when I am privileged enough to capture glimpses of the bigger picture, the workings of Jesus in me and in those around me.

Oh, the joy is overwhelming. Each week is different, and this is what I love. It blows my mind that I can live with an amazing family, work with these kids in Gillingham, play football with them and be welcomed into their communities, then the next week I am mooching around Europe with the amigo, Amie. So many blessings. So much thankfulness. INCREDIBLE. 

The family I live with are amazing. Their love and acceptance of people and the sense of community they develop in their house is mind blowing. It's such an atmosphere of support and joy and the 4 year old, Sophie, never ceases to come out with hilarious statements. Today we had 'slinky' championships, she chopped off a clump of her own hair at the dinner table and on other occasions has picketed outside my bedroom door singing songs until I emerge. The youngest, Ellie, not only has hair that sticks up vertically on her head, but has just turned one and said her first word 'A-men.' SO CUTE. Our house is currently being over run by myriads of tea-drinking builders, whilst the loft is converted into a BEAUTIFUL room for yours truly to live in whilst in Gillingham. It truly is a dream. The walls are sloped and there are windows either side that look out across the whole of Gillingham. I am ever so excited to move in there. 

In other news, I feel for the moment that it's the best thing to volunteer for GYFC 3 days. As hard as this is, because I LOVE the kids and this means I am missing out on one evening drop-in, I feel it's what is needed for this season. This means I now have two days opened up to just BE in Gillingham, or pursue other things that feed my soul, or give back to this place. SO exciting. And so blessed to just be able to do this. 

One thing that never fails to feed my soul is a visit to the big smoke, London. The hustle and bustle, the people watching potential and the feeling that anything could happen. Friday midday I headed off with high expectations of the day that was stretched out before me and the hopes of meeting with old friends. As soon as I leave the train at Victoria Station, the sense of being so small in such a big city is upon me. I spent the afternoon lunching with friends, Mike and Jazz. Then headed off to tackle the beast that is London transport, in hopes of arriving at Putney. A friend of mine, Anna, from New Zealand was waiting for me, and it was SO good to get a small taste of home, chat to someone with background and to hear of her adventures in London. Then off to an amazing bar, Grand Union to meet some of her friends. Not only was the floral wallpaper and old paintings to my utter delight, but the company was amazing, and I left that place feeling so restored and my soul well fed. 

Saturday morning, I did something I have been wanting to do for so long. In Chatham, the next town over from Gillingham, there is an AMAZING charity that is based in a church called 'Caring Hands in the Community.' It was started 9 years ago, and set out to meet the needs of the Gillingham Homeless Community. It's such a huge problem over here and is truly heartbreaking. They provide food, tea, showers, addiction and counselling services and seek to speak the truth of Jesus into these peoples lives. It is INCREDIBLE. Myself and a few from the discipleship group volunteered at this amazing place for a day. My heart was so at home here, the people that came in, the normality of it all and just the complete and the heart behind the project was amazing. Practically meeting their needs in every way possible. Man, Jesus was so there. I still get so overwhelmed with the need in this place, walking past people shouting in the streets, seeing people walking down the street with a can of beer at 9am, chatting to people and hearing their stories and then seeing the number of people in need of help. But God is SO big and so good and there is nothing in me that doubts he can do amazing things, and transform this place. One person at a time. All I gotta do is have hope. 

7 days to go, before I head off to Europe to see the lovely Amie Sutherland. So excited. News to come.

I cannot wait for her to see the place I love. And then bring stories home to share with you all. 

Amazing.