Back To The Manger!

After a visit to the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem, where I knelt before a fourteen-prong star marking the traditional site of the birth of Jesus Christ, I found myself sitting in a smart bus from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv. As I watched the scenery roll by, I felt nonplussed over the site I had visited a little earlier. The stainless steel star surrounding a hole in the marble floor seemed so far removed from the reality of the virgin birth that was supposed to have taken place there. Was this the real spot or not? So arguments rage for and against, but none of these arguments impressed me. Instead, I had a longing wish to have been present during such an historic event.

  

I arrive at Tel Aviv for an arranged visit to a car-hire dealer. It was here that I was shown a Delorean, quite a fast, impressive-looking make of car. The dealer showed me a special dashboard, where I would type in the present date, the date I would want to be transported, and the date to return to. He also showed me the Flux Capacitor, a three-pronged gadget enclosed in a glass and metal casing located just behind the driver's seat, and a caseful of carefully bottled Plutonium as fuel for the Capacitor. 

Presently I was cruising along the highway towards Jerusalem, from where I took the highway south towards Bethlehem. My lifelong dream - would it be fulfilled so soon? I drove to where Rachel's Tomb is located, just outside Bethlehem, and momentarily parked the car. I got out, fuelled the Flux Capacitor with one of the bottles of Plutonium, and then climbed back inside, making sure that I had the rest of the fuel sitting beside me. I then typed the present date and time, then my destination date and time underneath the present setting:

December 25, 04 BC, 04.00.00.

Then underneath, I typed the present date with the time set to a few seconds after present departure.

I was fortunate that the highway was free of traffic, as by this time it was getting dark, being a Friday evening, and the Jewish Sabbath was about to begin. I took a look back to see if the Flux Capacitor was - er - fluxing. The flashing lighting of the triple prongs assured me.

I put my foot down on the accelerator and the car roared into life. The road was clear. The speedometer reached 88 mph. All of the sudden there was a sudden bang, and I found the car speeding along a dirt track on a dark starry night, the rough ground surface rapidly slowing down the car. Nearby there was a cave, one of many in this part of the world. It was a good place to hide the car until I came for it later that morning.

I walked towards the village, now looking very different from the town I was familiar with. I was gasping with a combined emotion of excitement, shock, and bewilderment. I kept on turning around, surveying the scenery. All the stars above shone brightly. As I walked through the village, I saw what looked like shepherds heading the other way, rejoicing and all looking extraordinary happy. I could not understand what they were saying but one of them pointed at the direction I was heading for, and gasped, Messiah! Then he spewed out a torrent of excited words I could not understand, and then made off to the fields some distance out of town.

I recognised the area as the approximate location where the Church of the Nativity will one day be built. There were some houses, next to one of them was a cave which served as a stable. Various animals were resting near what looks like a feeding trough. Two people, a man and his wife, sat above the cot, looking into it. I hesitated. But the wife, having looked me over, beckoned me in. I approached the crib, and there l saw the newborn, lying awake in the manger.

I felt tears roll down my cheeks as I fell to my knees looking into the crib, and worshiped, remaining silent for the better part of thirty minutes. Now I knew why the shepherds were so joyful. They saw the child, and believed that he was the true Messiah. They were instantly washed from their sins, and acquitted, and knew that they have eternal life. They also knew that their salvation is theirs and they will never be lost again for ever. Oh, the power of God's mercy!

To the child, I began to spill out what was in my heart. It was the ideal environment to do this, because as one speaking English, nobody around me would understand, certainly not the child's parents at least. It was a conversation reserved for the baby only. The child cooed as I began:

                                                                   ***

"You may not realise it now, my child, but you are the Messiah, the Christ, the future King of Israel, the Saviour of all who believe who you are, like the shepherds did. You also have a name, Immanuel, which to my language means God with us. And you are indeed God incarnate, the Second Person of the Trinity, as we call the Godhead back home.

"You will grow up in a harsh world, where your people is ruled by the Romans, a Gentile empire where I have my ancestry. Heh! Somewhere in this domain, quite likely in Rome itself, lives my father's direct ancestor. But it is you, Lord Jesus, I came from far off to see, and not any of my forefathers. You will grow up in a world of gross inequality. Slavery is normal here, so is the world of the gladiator, where two men fight to the death, literally. Your people is under oppression here, but part of your mission is to free all from oppression, as well as from their sins, and to reconcile all mankind to God, since it was you, my child, who created us in the first place - to enjoy eternal love, joy, and fellowship with you, the only true God.

"I was born in a land called England, far into the future. Yes, I'm from the future. It is because of you, Lord Jesus, your immaculate conception, virgin birth, your future ministry, trial, crucifixion, burial, and resurrection, that has changed the world. So at least, where we call a 'Christian Country', we no longer have slavery, nor the games where gladiators battle it out. We have healing centres such as hospitals, where the sick and infirm can have the right kind of medicine. Coming to think of it, Lord Jesus, such a principle already exists in your time, over at Kos, and founded by that great Greek doctor Hippocrates. Funny enough, we even have, right up to my day, the Hippocratic Oath, still recited by every junior doctor at graduation. 

"England is a fair, pleasant, and easy country to live in, Lord, but there is as much inequality in my sphere of life as it will be in yours. We English are obsessed with social class, levels of education and wealth. For example, for centuries the English gentry had live-in servants, a posher word for slavery, the only thing that made the difference was that English servants weren't under the threat of the whip, instead under the threat of potential unemployment and the possibility of starvation. Oh yes, Lord, come to think of it, a time will come that you will receive 39 lashes. That's how much you love us. As your prophet wrote, by his stripes we are made whole. However, we have come a long way with the introduction of the benefit system. However, employers in my sphere will now only give plum jobs to those graduates who had the privilege of a private education. If you fail at State school, life is a lot harsher and may have to depend on benefits. It is very humiliating, come to think of it. And now our Government is fighting to have those benefits reduced, if not eliminated, so those who are poorer will be worse off, while he has mates, nearly a hundred in all, Special Advisers, or 'spads' who are paid enormous incomes directly by the taxpayer.

"Oh Lord, my sweet child, you yourself wrote in Proverbs 31:

Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of those who are destitute.

Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.

"And you will come to know, Lord, that this was the advice a queen gave to her son, the heir of the throne, King Lemuel. He was instructed that the poor and the destitute lived with security in his kingdom. But our Government is going the opposite direction, to deprave the poor who are mostly hard working, even further in order to line the pockets of his own chums. Yet the irony of all this is that a very large percentage of the English population not only fully adore and support our Government's priorities, but share in its disdain for the working poor, for celebrity worship.

"And we even have that eccentricity within Englishness, where a football manager is sacked, given greater priority in news bulletins, well above the news that many of the elderly are facing untimely deaths due to neglect. Even sons and daughters have abandoned their elderly parents to care-workers in order to pursue high-flying careers, in their bid to survive and prosper in a competitive world.

"That because, dear Lord Jesus, is that near to my timesphere there were three men we call great. They totally turned our way of thinking from honouring you as our Creator to worshiping and competing among ourselves, individually, as families, and as a nation. Yes, three men - three of all numbers. The first was Frenchman Jean Baptiste Lamarck, a fiercely-opinionated atheist who first published the idea that the alternative of seeing ourselves as your creation, instead saw us as a product of evolution by gradual mutation. The second was Scotsman Charles Lyell, who wrote, Principles of Geology, and ushered in the theory of Uniformitarian Geology. And the third was Englishman Charles Darwin, who wrote, Of the Origin of Species. Of the three, Darwin remains well known globally. I bet that if I were to visit France and ask, Who do you think was the father of Evolution? they would give me a look of surprise and answer, Well, Darwin of course. Indeed. Their own founder, Lamarck, remains confined within highest academia. Thank goodness, my dear child, this will not happen to you.

"Therefore it took an Englishman to reshape our way of thinking, leaving us with an ungodly philosophy that we are chance-products of evolution, eventually evolving to godhood. This leaving us to strive against each other, creating a social class system which not only disfavours the poor, the weak, and the ugly, but has enslaved the minds of the English population, which then spread out to enslave the rest of the world. Yet it had its origins in England, Kent to be more precise. And that includes the taking away of our three young daughters in the middle of the night, simply because some atheistic bitch representing the State thought that we were too stupid to parent our own children. Now they are adopted by another family whose surname and whereabouts remain unknown to us."

                                                                 ***

Suddenly I break down in tears. The cooing baby reached out his tiny hand and the whole of it wrapped around my thumb. I thought I detected him smiling, as if reassuring me that in his hands, all will be well. His mother came up to me and placing her hand on my shoulder, reassuring me, even if I did not understand her language. I looked again at the child as his fingers clutched at my thumb. As he eventually let go, I rose up and looked up at the brightening sky. An unusually bright star shone overhead, amidst a clear blue dawn sky, still free from the blazing sun. 

"I better go." I said, with words that fell on non-understanding ears. "Mary, Joseph, Lord, soon the wise men will be here. They will bring gifts of joy. Receive them when they arrive." I instructed, but without avail.

Somehow, despite the language barrier, they understood. They both nodded as I made my way out, but not without bowing to the Holy Family in reverence. I made my way to the cave where my car awaits. I poured fresh Plutonium into the Flux Capacitor and started the engine, ensuring of the correct return date and time was displayed on the dashboard. Then I managed to spot an area of flat hard ground, large enough to accelerate to 88 mph.

BANG!

Back at a library in Jerusalem I heard of an ancient manuscript telling of an early first century legend about a twin set of fiery tracks spotted just outside Bethlehem...

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I wish all you readers and followers a happy Christmas and a prosperous New Year. God bless you all.

A Source of Unneeded Terror

Simon, who has a level of Autism Spectrum Disorder, or ASD, has been a Christian believer for quite a number of years. But having being brought up in the Catholic faith, and becoming deluded with it by the time he reached his late teens. Then one day while killing time in the library, he was suddenly converted after finding a Bible on one of the shelves. Having placed it on a nearby reading desk, it fell open towards the end of the book, on one of the pages with the sub-heading, St John. This is what he read:

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; that the world through him might be saved. 

John 3:16-17.

Simon had a more positive feeling about God than he did before he read that passage. He believed that this Jesus, the son of Mary, played a significant role in his salvation, and began to put his trust in him. It was quite a contrast to the Jesus Christ of Catholicism. As he once perceived this long-haired, bearded, Italian-looking fellow to be continuously angry, and constantly critical of the behaviour of those he met and communicated, it was impossible for this lad to see any love within the heart of the man who called himself the Son Of God. If it wasn't for his virgin mother persistently interceding on behalf of sinful mankind, nobody would get into Heaven. To add to this, even the favourites of this Jesus languished in Purgatory, a temporary but a very real Hell where even the smallest of sins committed when alive had to be purged out before being let into Heaven. This purging involved physical suffering to an intensity never experienced by anyone on earth. With threats such as this, little wonder he became disillusioned with his former faith.

Purgatory of Catholic Catechism

Although he was encouraged by the Scripture, his new-found faith raised questions. Mainly this: Why weren't many more believed, if that is all it takes to be saved? And how can he be so sure that he was saved? Has God really acquit him from his sins? Was his faith strong enough, or pointing in the right direction for it to have taken effect? Then a few years later, Simon was browsing on the Internet at home, and came across the most terrifying video that could ever be made. It had its origins from the works of Jack Chick, an American who was famed for his miniature evangelistic cartoon strips and his emphasis on a physical Hell. The video struck terror into Simon's heart, and as he lay in bed that night, he was silently praying while his wife lay asleep beside him.

If this is to be our eternal destiny after death, then why, oh why, did you create us in the first place? Then he turned to see his wife sleeping soundly, and he felt as if another, an even larger spear piercing his heart even further. The very thought of his wife suffering such an eternal fate not only intensify his fear of her welfare, but also a sense of pleading sorrow. How he loved his wife and felt so devoted to her. And even if there were times she might have been cold or disagreeable to him, he could never, never confine her to such eternal suffering! All these emotions, strong as they were, were from the fact that he was never fully freed from Roman Catholicism, and remained locked in the image of an angry God whose wrath was manifest in a critical Jesus Christ as he ministered here on earth some two thousand years previously.

As he walked through the city streets, Simon observed the daily crowd going on their business. He watched young families, especially mothers escorting their infant offspring. At a cafe, he even watched a mother slowly spooning semi-liquid food into her baby son's mouth. All bound for that dreadful place after death? Then as he walked further along the street, he spotted some Hindus and further on, some Muslims. He began to visualise the huge crowd of Muslims, thousands of them, in and around the Kaaba, the head mosque at the Saudi Arabian city of Mecca. And also the multiple thousands of Hindus assembling at the Ganges River in the far east. And were they all heading for that fiery place under their feet, simply because they are following the wrong religion and showing devotion to it? Then at times when he had to visit his doctor, his dentist, or allowed to be served by the checkout attendant at the supermarket. Then all the men and women he watches daily on television. News anchormen, reporters, chat show hosts and their guests, actors, singers, comedians. Then, worst of all, sitting at table with his agnostic parents and atheist brother. Then his mother wonders why he has no appetite.

But it was the sight of the young mother and her son at the cafe which sent shivers down his spine. All throughout the Hindu world, the Muslim world, as well as the Western world, children are constantly being born to parents who know little or nothing about salvation in Christ. This grieved Simon even more. It was a dreadful anomaly from what meant to be perceived as the God of love who sent his Son to atone for their sins. Simon couldn't help thinking: How effective was the atonement Christ made on the cross? If the apostle wrote that in Christ, God has reconciled the world to himself, not imputing their tresspasses against them (2 Corinthians 5:19), and that he that loves not knoweth not God, for God is love (1 John 4:8) seems to blatantly contradicts this fiery Hell as portrayed in the video, yet it is as if nearly the entire human population are heading towards it, as the video shows, a constant rain of lost souls unceasingly falling into the fires below. Simon reasoned that "not knowing God" is a bit like not knowing Fred Bloggs. How can he love Fred if he doesn't know him? Furthermore, would Fred send him to fry forever, because Simon failed to love him? Such thoughts spun in his head.

If Simon loved his wife so much, he couldn't bear see his wife suffer, not even for a moment, let alone eternally. He then reasoned that the Christian faith, like all religions, is based on fear. Fear of punishment. For Simon grew to believe that the reality of this fiery Hell has prevented him from loving God as his Heavenly Father, because he finds it difficult to love a deity who is capable of condemning billions to relentless torture. Instead, in fear he makes an effort to stay clean. But there is a problem. Although he is happily married and very devoted to his wife, in the church where he attends, there is another female whose presence arouses his sexual desire. He see her there nearly every week, and he goes home and to bed fantasising her with himself, arms entwined. He even uses the fantasy to help him sleep. But he also knows that this is wrong. And it is this aroused desire which makes him doubt his salvation and dreading what could happen if he died right there and then.

Then, as Simon lays on his bed, he ponders: What right has he to be an inheritor of eternal glory when there are so many around him who are not so fortunate? Pretty frightening too, is the thought of being born as a Muslim or Hindu, or from a remote jungle tribe cut off from civilization as we know it, or for that matter, from atheist but well educated parents. So much distress, how can such a mountain of burden be borne solely on one human heart? After all, does this Jesus Christ have any love in his heart, knowing that such a huge percentage of the human population is perishing? Or does he cry out Woe! Woe! Woe! - as he did one day at the Pharisees? But furthermore, how can he prove that this Jesus of Nazareth is the Christ, the Anointed One, the Jewish Messiah, is the Way to eternal life? And not Mohammed or any of the Hindu or Buddhist deities and their scriptures? 

I approach Simon and asked him if watching the video has edified him. He tells me that just the opposite of edify is to terrify, and that has what the video has done for him. He also explained that any love he had for God has been replaced by a deep fear of him, together with an apparently justifiable case that if God has reconciled the world to himself, not imputing their tresspasses against them, how is it that God has prepared such a terrible place for lost souls? I try to explain that the Lake of Fire was never intended for mankind, but was prepared for the Devil and his angels, according to Matthew 25:41. It was never God's intention for any man or woman to go there. Then by testifying that the way to life is through Jesus, I opened the Bible to Isaiah 53, and read out to him these words:

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. 

But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.

We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us turned to his own way, and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:3-6.

I then asked him, "Who have met such credentials?"

Simon replied, "None other than Jesus."

I then advised him never again watch such videos on the Internet, or watch or read anything that does not edify, because unless the material builds up your faith and brings out your love for the Lord, then more than likely, such material is not from God - even if it looks fully orthodox and Biblical. For Jesus died to atone for our sins, to bring us peace, and that we can enjoy life, not tremble in terror. After all, no living person has ever been to Hell, nobody knows what it really looks like. 

"But what about those who do not know the Gospel?" Simon asked.

Well, according to Paul's letter to the church in Rome, he wrote that his voice has gone out to all the earth, his words to the end of the world (Romans 10:18). And that was quoted from Psalm 19:4 which reads:

The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language where their voice is not heard.

Their voice go out to all the earth, their words to the end of the world.

Psalm 19:1-4.

The love of Christ is beyond comprehension...

And the Gospel of John opens with the assurance that the true light which shines into every man was coming into the world (John 1:9). Simon then concluded, 

"If a man in Hell asks, 'Why am I here?' then I could answer by asking, 'Why did you reject such a loving God?'"

Then Simon turned and walked away.  

A Duvet at Church...

For some months I have been impressed with the church which meets at Westminster Chapel, a short walk from London Victoria Terminus Station. My first Sunday visit was earlier this year, back in June. I have known Westminster Chapel for quite a number of years. It was here that Alex my wife and I had attended the all-day Prayer for Israel conference one Saturday in 2000, which was led by the late Lance Lambert, a student, advocate, and expounder of Bible prophecy, particularly on the future restoration of Israel as a theocratic nation with Jerusalem as its capital. But equally impressive was a Saturday evening inter-church meeting about leadership, which was held there around the mid 1990's, to which I was encouraged by members of my own fellowship to attend. The place was packed. Not only was the central auditorium full to capacity but also the two tiers of balconies on each side were full. This resulted in a tremendous atmosphere, especially when the more popular or well-known songs were sung during worship.

So with such memories, I made a return visit to Westminster Chapel last Sunday. As I approached its main entrance, I could not help but notice a large day-glowing duvet or sleeping bag lying as if rolled on one of the church's front windowsills, facing the street. Suspecting a sleeping victim of homelessness, I decided to let him sleep on, and entered the building.

Like as June earlier this year, the building was nowhere near full, unlike that of the leadership meeting back in the nineties. Various pews in the main auditorium remained empty, as well as the balconies. I was even the sole occupier of the pew I sat at, not far from the front. It was then that my spirit fell. In a modern cosmopolitan city such as London, how I long to see this building packed out on a Sunday morning! I found myself thinking, if not praying, Lord, I long to see this place filled to the brim on any Sunday morning! How I would love to hear the praises thunder so loudly that even the roof itself gets blown off from its place! The light of Glory right here in central London! This was when I realised how much I loved this church, and had I lived in London, I would have had no hesitation in applying for membership.

Westminster Chapel presents the Gospel and Bible teachings in a fundamental, straightforward manner, which I find very edifying, hence my fondness of the venue. The emphasis of Eternal Security of the Believer can be felt as I listened between the lines of the sermon. That week, before the main preach, there was a children's slot held in the auditorium before the youngsters were despatched to their departments. The children's theme was about hypocrisy. A mini-drama was staged by two London University students, about a "perfect Christian" who boasted about all the good things he does in public on a daily basis, along with his boast about abstaining from evil. "Wow! What a pillar of church society!" - That is, until someone checked his Facebook and Twitter profiles, and discovered that he lied frequently, and was secretly dishonest with his money, particularly on tax evasion.

Whoops. It was at this point when I felt the Holy Spirit point out several things in my life, and gave me an opportunity to confess quietly to God. I thought about the homeless individual I passed as I entered the building earlier. Hypocrite? Perhaps that is a matter of opinion. But seeing someone with a begging bowl sitting on the side of the street doesn't generally stir compassion within. Not to say that I never felt for the beggar. I recall when I was in Jerusalem back in 1993. For days, I could not take my eyes off this elderly gentleman sitting on the grass with his back leaning on the medieval wall of the Old City, not far from Jaffa Gate. His left leg looked as if he was badly injured, and let's face it, his lower leg did look rather ghastly. Out of goodwill I gave him a fair sum out of my funds. He looked very grateful as he took the cash off me. After this, he vanished, and I saw him no more throughout the rest of my stay in Israel.

As I pondered over this fellow and his sudden disappearance, slowly the truth began to dawn. His leg wasn't injured at all, but had a fake makeover, done very professionally, to attract the likes of myself. But rather than feel duped and a gullible fool, I allowed the matter to pass, and gave thanks to the Lord for the privilege for my ability to give. After facing an aggressive female beggar at 5th Avenue New York City in 1995 (and she was young and pretty, not old and looking unwell) I decided to revise what I have read what goes on behind the image of street poverty. One reliable source was Brian Moynahan's book Fool's Paradise, where he interviewed some beggars at the Champs Elysees, Paris. After his research revealed that a number of them congregate in the evening with the day's takings at a bar in a backstreet, and celebrated with champagne. He informs us that the beggars are at work when the public are not. He then reveals the Newspaper Ploy carried out by one, and the Telephone Ploy acted out by another, where each asking passersby whether they could donate towards buying a newspaper, or towards phoning his mother living in Germany. In addition, they always make sure that their clothes, although looking threadbare, are always kept clean, and dress reasonably. Over in Israel, I was the gullible victim of what I could refer to as "the Injury Ploy."

Then I recall when I took Alex my wife up north to Chester, a historic medieval city built on and around a Roman fort. The River Dee flows through the city, making the promenade a popular walkway. One evening, we saw a man lying by the edge of the river, and his companion begging for help. It does look as if the one lying on the ground was seriously injured, and I wondered why an ambulance wasn't called. That's when his companion explained that he didn't have the money for the phone call. Wised up already, I smelled a rat, and said to my wife, "Come, let's leave." We were chased over a short distance. When I turned around to look behind us, lo and behold! The injured person had instantly and miraculously recovered, and joined the chase. Fortunately we kept going when the two gave up on us.

When it comes to street beggars - really, I find it very difficult to discern the true from the false. I have wondered how would Jesus react if he was around today. I don't think he would have tossed a coin into his plate or bowl. Instead, he would give the order, "Follow me." Therefore, rather than give directly to the street beggar, I prefer to give towards charities which deals with the genuine poor. If the charity is Christian, such as Tearfund or Compassion, all the better. But wherever I'm generous or stingy, discerning or gullible, wise or foolish, this I know, without Christ in my life, my own righteousness will never meet God's demands. I live by his righteousness imputed into me, and not my own.

Going back to the homeless person sleeping on the windowsill of Westminster Chapel, he was not actually begging. Instead, he was sleeping. I have wondered what all the other worshippers were thinking as they walked past to enter the building. Was it a common sight, something so familiar that they have became insensitive to his presence? Or was it something of sudden appearance numbing the thinking and decisions of all who passed by? After the service was over, many of us congregated for refreshments afterwards, yet I heard no mention of him. This post-service coffee seems to be becoming common in many churches - the serving of coffee after the service which, no doubt had its origins in America, when in 1978, I had coffee and doughnuts at the First Baptist Church in Portland, Oregon, something still unknown in churches throughout the UK. Another example of Britain harrumphing whenever America coughs?

But as far as I recall, nobody mentioned the homeless sleeper outside. It was as if he wasn't there. Was he deliberately ignored? It felt strange, as I see it, sleeping at a location where just a pane of glass separated him from the message of the Gospel. And yet he slept on outside, while all of us inside were recipients of the Good News. But do I blame the church for making no effort to invite him in? No, I can't, since I have had no inkling of how such a circumstance came to be. How can I prove whether or not he has made this particular window his home, and whether or not had the church invited him in over and over again, and yet he fully resisted? Had any members brought food to him in the past? This is something I would never know. Likewise, if I were to go back to Westminster Chapel this weekend, would he still be there, wrapped in his thick sleeping bag as before? Or would he have wondered off into the horizon, carrying his thick duvet with him, never to be seen again except by some sheer coincidence?

Perhaps fully aware of my own shortcomings, after coffee I exited the chapel, only to see the man stirring in his duvet. Alone, I called out to him, asking him if he was homeless. When he answered in the affirmative, I took out my coin bag containing some small change. I took out the only £1 coin I had and gave it to him. "Here, take this, and have a bowl of soup on me."

Maybe, just maybe, he had a glimpse of the Gospel in action. Who knows.

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For more reading of my visit to Westminster Chapel in June 2015, click here