URBANarmy

Everyone seemed to know Susie. Her energy drive for building community would put most churches to shame; the vanguard of transformation in so many ways, the bastion of local justice, standing up and against all things unfair in this part of SM1. In the few months I knew her, I saw nothing but investment into others around her, no doubt about it - a pillar of this community beyond it's cliché. Well Susie is no longer here. She went very quickly. She has moved on, taking her young family away from the support structures and friends they knew. Now in a different but unfamiliar part of SW London, all thanks to her misfortune to have, in old money, a boxroom, deemed now a bedroom. So unable to withstand the 14% cut to her housing benefit, Susie has gone.  Watching BBC's QuestionTime last night made me wonder how many of the Susie's of this world while shoehorning their families into new communities and schools really feel that they are all in it together?

I'm working up some ideas in James 2:1-17 for next week, and find myself looking at the strength of 'love your neighbour as yourself'. There's a bright pink card on the desk addressed to everyone at The Salvation Army. It simply says thank you on the outside, on the inside more profoundly it says 'I'd been lost without your help and support'. Half an hour ago a friendly face popped his head around the office door. 'Just checking you got the card...' He explains what it was to be homeless in Sutton and what it was to be loved by SuttonSA. He explains that at his loneliest and most vulnerable the doors were open with a smile, support and interest. He explains how life is on the up and that he now has hope. He leaves saying he'll be back in on Monday to say hello! In my experience a thank you card in these circumstances is rare. I watch him cross the road and walk towards the town, grateful for the interruption.

"... I got the barbecue out" Wasn't really the answer I was expecting. Conversations after church over a cup of tea are pretty always good. I like them! You get to connect, to share and to know each other. I had been doing well with Ron, his week hadn't been good workwise, carwise or in fact catwise. Suzy family pet for many years had died and I was being talked through the decision to cremate rather than bury. My pastoral face was caring and unshakeable. ".... Sorry to hear about your cat, so how does cremation for pets work ?" The answer asked intense questions of my pastoral face. "Ron... You barbecued your dead cat? It must've taken ages...!" "yeah... even after I stuffed her with fire lighters! ... we got there in the end, Marlene bought a new biscuit tin for the ashes..." The pastoral face disappeared. "Ron I don't want you taking this personally, don't be surprised if I don't come to a barbecue at y...

You can tell that Jim is a big drinker, one thing you can't tell is how old he is. You can see a glint in his eye, while the street may be a rough place he enjoys life. He brought a book in tonight for a volunteer who he thought would benefit from reading it. Shane Claibourne's 'The Irresistible Revolution', Matthew clearly touched flicked through the pages. With a sigh he turns to us and says "I can't have it ... he has stolen it from a library !" After another closer examination .... "it's from a Quaker library, I'll have to return it!" Trying to encourage him to read the book I hear myself say... "...don't worry they wont say a word!!" Clearly something flawed in the sentiment, but nevertheless compelling. There was something more compelling from Jim. He prayed for us tonight, the staff and volunteers, he sobbed his gratitude to God for somewhere to go.

The two silhouettes in the door were a give away. I approached knowing on the other side would be two Jehovah Witnesses to talk with. You kind of think that our road would have a big black cross through the JW map of district to cover. All but two houses in our street are Salvation Army owned and we are mostly officers at the William Booth College. No black cross and so with plenty of time I thought I would engage! "We wondered whether you would like to have a conversation about the bible...?" the first lady said, she was lovey and I was already despising myself as I replied. "That would be lovely, what bible should we use...." Second lovely lady said "Ooo well... you could use mine...!" I feel worse as I feign surprise "ah the NWT translation, I've not come across that one before, is it based on New Testament Greek?" "oh yes..." comes the reply in unison. So we go onto discuss the mistranslation of John and their refusal to accep...

if Jesus had not used the metaphor of Gehenna to call upon to describe the antithesis of fullness of life he surely would have used Southwark's Parking shop to make his point.. She looked at me bemused if not a little affected. I looked around at the now silent room caught momentarily within the eye of the storm I had caused. People backed away from me in the 'I wonder if he has multi personality' kind of way. There was no two ways about it I had caused a drama. An hour before I walked into 264 Old Kent Road and if Jesus had not the metaphor of Gehenna to call upon to describe the antithesis of fullness of life, he surely would have used Southwark's Parking shop to make his point. The atmosphere was tense, fraught as individuals paid their parking fines at one window with an incessant tirade of abuse to the girls on the other side of bullet proof glass. Individuals caught for all kinds of traffic offences vented, screamed, cried, wailed before paying anything up to £...

I usher the city gent into the space I was holding and realise perhaps that wasn't what a minister of religion should be saying to a perfect stranger in the reception of a brothel" "Are you queuing mate..?" "No ... no .... no!" I stammer a little too quickly, I compose myself and continue "be my guest..." I usher the city gent into the space I was holding and realise perhaps that wasn't what a minister of religion should be saying to a perfect stranger in the reception of a brothel in London's notorious Kings Cross! Did I say brothel? I meant to say sauna and massage parlour, the youngish guy looks almost as nervous as me as he looks down a price list. The bouncer helps, "that's £20 to get in and £100 for the girl..." , the £20 is rung into the till, a towel is handed over and the guy disappears behind a door to have a break in his journey before heading to the home counties hinterland to his leafy suburb. Did I say 'br...

Mickey's smile faded as we talked, my voice became background noise as he slowly disappeared into his past. The conversation had been good, sparked from a childhood memory, we had laughed as Mickey recalled his scrumping pedigree as an eleven year old. Belly laughs accompanied the various adventures of his exploits as he 'stole' fruit from neighbours fruit trees to order from his jam making grandmother. "Good memories...?" I ventured. "Oh yes...." in a voice betraying a certain melancholy. It wasn't long before I regretted asking "So you have good memories of growing up then Mickey?" "Not really ..." the smile now gone, "... they were mostly bad." Later that evening Mickey showed me his plastic ankle jewelry, tagged for a crime he says was drink driving. As he left to electronically sign in to keep to his curfew, I thought of the Mickey's of this world whose fullness has been stolen by all that contributes to the b...

"Bedraggled, the guys looked on me with mild bemusement and compassion as the puddles gathered in and around by trainers where I stood." I'm beginning to enjoy getting around London on my bike. It usually feels great to get to Faith House having had the adventure of cycling from South London. I couldn't help but see the irony last week as I turned up dripping wet from the 6 mile cycle in torrential rain. Bedraggled, the guys looked on me with mild bemusement and compassion as the puddles gathered in and around by trainers where I stood. A couple of new guys looked with kindness and with a 'it's OK here' look as they began to make room for me to sit with them! I enjoyed that embrace. It comes to something when you have to ask if there are any spare trousers at a homeless drop in!! I had dried off by the time I shared a thought at the end of the evening. Derek was well stocked up on 'lucazade' and had his say. Pointing drunkenly in turn at each one o...

It's funny what relationships at Faith House do to you. Last time I was at Faith House I stood outside with Derek as he drunkenly smoked his roll up, we chatted. I liked being on the door when at youth club in Poplar, it was where discussions happened. This felt the same as we talked about what it is to be a minister, a Christian, and '...bl** dy cyclists'! Derek got to know me a little more and I got to know Derek that little more. We shared something of each other. I saw his lucozade bottle tucked inside his jacket, it is always there, ready. His supposed life line. He caught me looking at the bottle. I laughed, "Derek I love Lucozade ..." "You wouldn't like this Lucozade ..." his reply sharp. "It's a different colour to what I remember, is it new?". Derek looks up and says "No...!", "...perhaps I could have a sip", "NO - you wouldn't like THIS Lucozade ..!" I snigger and he knows I'm pulli...

mission is not want we magnanimously do for others but is about what we become together, bringing the kingdom into being. This is the reality of 'heaven on earth'. A regular feature at Faith House has been the development of a thought to round off the evening, each of the volunteers take a turn to share something of their thinking. This week it was my turn and I finished my thought by thanking the guys at faith house and by letting them know how much they bring to my life. "This has become an important part of my community; I don't come to Faith House to make cups of tea and give out fish finger sandwiches ... I come because I want to be here, I am who I am because of what you share of you with me... together we are community". Frank chips in, looks around at the 10 or so of us in the room. "I don't come because of the tea and fish fingers either, I come because it is important that I am with you all as well, you are family..!" Last week Frank manag...

More on Frank here . Frank's miracle continue. Once sleeping in doorways, now as the proud tenant of a one bedroom flat he tells us. "I can't believe it ... I have my own place with everything I need ... I sometimes think I don't deserve it." It is good to see his smile and something of his life coming together.

You can read more of Richard here . Richard was still a little wobbly; we waited on the corner of the street and watched him stagger up to us. A small group from Nunhead SA were going for a curry and Richard was coming too. I hadn't seen Richard since he was very much the worse for wear in a meeting I had led, so it was a bit of a surprise that he was joining up with us. Simon one of our Corps leaders quietly assured us ... "he's been in detox for six weeks and now he's back" . I wasn't sure as he got closer but sure enough no sign of the blue plastic bag, no hint of a lager can or a cider bottle, not even a whiff! Later as we sat and chatted while we ate, Richard quietly became part of us and we became part of Richard. "See you Sunday Gord..." he merrily called out as we went our different ways. Church at it's best!

Derek sobbed from his very being, deep shudders of emotion. I felt them as I sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Estelle felt them as she held Derek's hand. The whole room at Faith House felt them as they watched on and listened. We'd heard a lot from Derek that night. Slightly the worse for wear he had pushed boundaries, let his agitation spill over into the group, patiently the men at the drop in gave him space to do his drunk thing in their community. His day hadn't been good, kicked out and banned from five other places he came to Faith House and he had something to say. Through the tears and the sobs he caught the attention the whole room. As he was kicked out of McDonald's a mother and a child ran after him with some french fries and a coffee. Something profound in that simple act of kindness hit Derek between the eyes and took him back to what he had read. "For fifty years I've been banging my head up against a brick wall, but now I know......

Camael does not really like to give too much away. He has been coming along to Faith House for several months and conversations usually come to an end when you ask him where he comes from. It is clear from his accent that he is from Eastern Europe but for some reason he is sensitive to anyone showing too much interest. Camael certainly enjoys his football and knows his stuff. A huge Man Utd fan who can talk with authority about fringe players and up and coming talent. Not only that he knows his La Liga from his Serie A. Camael came to life as we drank tea and talked about managers tactics, classic football from years gone by. I didn't dare bring this to an end by asking where he was from so I ask. "So Camael who'd you support as a kid?" " Steaua Bucharest...! the first eastern European team to win the European Cup final." he offers, "Romanian...?" With a sip of his tea and a smile he says "Of course" . It is interesting that thes...

"It's good to have you back Gordon, you know we've been really worried about you...!" It's been a while since I have been at Faith House. In fact it has been six weeks since I have been able to get along to what is an important part of my week. I've missed the characters that have become part of my life over the last 18 months, it felt good to be back, to chat and make tea and 2 sugars. These men haven't been far from my mind, particularly with how cold it has been recently. Images in my mind of some of them caught in the snow. Seemingly I haven't been far from their minds either. As we were finishing up Dylan gets my attention. "It's good to have you back Gordon, you know we've been really worried about you...!"

Blogging is not high on my agenda at the moment but I found this lurking in my drafts from before Christmas - I don't want to forget JR. --- JR looked into my eyes and started to sing Mary's boy child to me and me alone. The rest of the room looked on in mild amusement as this genuine man of the road serenaded me, even taking off his hat and covering his heart. As he got closer his nicotine stained teeth became my focus as he finished the first verse with a crooners flourish. The problem was that I was half way through a Christmas meditation with the guys at Faith House. Taking my opportunity I try and wrestle the control back by applauding enthusiastically JR's effort. A quick breath was all JR needed, and with a "I'm not finished..." with the upbeat off he went again. Looking deep into my eyes and with a false American accent he gave it all he had! Seemingly my meditation hung in tatters.... or did it?! There seemed a sweet irony as I finished my thoughts ...

One of the interesting things about Faith House is the conversation and observations you get about other agencies that offer help to the homeless. One of my favourites has always been the story of a Roman Catholic outreach to the homeless somewhere in the West End. The friendliness has never been a complaint, nor has been the food, which from all accounts is well up there! The issue isn't even the worship and imposed 'God slot' - the problem is the two nuns who stand by the exit playing guitars to stop anyone leaving. It is almost worth popping along to see it in action - a nice twist on the popular Ship of Fools Mystery Worshipper . I have a new favourite story that has had me chortling for several days. It involves a church group that uses a bus to create a nice space for homeless people to get a hot drink and a conversation for a couple of hours. Jim is a highly articulate member of the FH community, his exasperation in telling the story made it all the better. Not reali...

Mostly I use puesdonyms when I write, sometimes I don't - I'm glad Mr Hopgood was always really Mr Hopgood. Mr Hopgood was a regular feature of URBANarmy several years back. At the time I could not get my head around how I could not help this elderly, very eccentric homeless guy who had been made street homeless when a hostel closed for a refurb. Everyday Mr Hopgood would come into the community lounge at Poplar for breakfast, lunch, warmth and a sleep. Everyday we would help Mr Hopgood in with his over sized suitcase. Everyday Mr Hopgood would sit and create his own atmosphere as the aroma of street aftermath would percolate! Mr Hopgood had a story. They say a brilliant mind that for some unknown catalyst went over the edge. He spent most of his adult life in hostels refusing to bath or on the streets. He came to us in the winter frozen. He came to sleep and to eat. There he would find warmth and tolerance among the mothers and their children. Then at 1:30pm after a lunch off ...

I saw him leaving on the Close Circuit TV monitor as I was putting my bag in the office. I had arrived late - as usual! - to the drop in at Faith House. As I slipped the rucksack off my back I saw him look vaguely in the direction of the security camera and then disappear in the the evening streets of Kings Cross. Chris never stays long - just long enough for us all to see and acknowledge his life. It was good to see him. Chris had not been seen at FH for most of the summer and we were getting worried. Phone calls had been made to hospitals, fearing the worst, the next stage was to make contact with the morgues. Chris is clearly very ill, it doesn't take much imagination to think that he is HIV+, for weeks we had seen him deteriorate. So his complete disappearance was a concern for us all. I came up into the kitchen " heh ... was that Chris I just saw leaving...?" The joy and celebration in the eyes of the other workers and volunteers was tangible. "It ce...