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

When God Seems Far Away

As a believer in Jesus Christ, I tend to feel that God makes his presence felt on Sundays, and on special occasions such as on Christmas day - if I attend church that morning. Ditto on Good Friday and especially on Easter Sunday. And oh yes, God was present on our wedding day when we made our vows among hymns, choruses, and a sermon to boot - and after signing the Register he was even present during the Reception which followed, which happen to have taken place in our church back room turned restaurant.

 

And so on our happy day which was to change our lives together, when the Reception was over, we waved farewell as we climbed into the car driven by my younger brother who was also Best Man, and we were on our own once more as we ambled into the check-in lounge at the airport to start our honeymoon. So God's presence is felt whenever we are in church. And so Sunday after Sunday we gather together for a service which had always been very predictable - thirty minutes of coffee and doughnuts, followed by a time of worship (actually, it's standing up singing praises rather than falling on our knees) - then after thirty minutes of this, the youngsters depart for Junior Church with its separate departments catering for different age groups. Another song or two, then we all sit down for the preach, which the Elders prefer as the title rather than sermon. Finally, the church notices are read out before the meeting ends, and it's back to coffee and doughnuts.

 

We love to say and testify that God had been present throughout the service, and no doubt, he has and always will be. Sure enough, there has been talk of  wanting of a revival of some sort, whatever that suppose to mean, but I guess it is a great increase of numbers coming to Christ, along with godlier lifestyles. Something on the parallel of the early church recorded in the Acts of the Apostles of the New Testament.  During the days of the apostles, if Starbucks or Costa-Coffee had been around, they would have had a thriving business! With between three to five thousand converted in a day, they would have had to work hard around the clock, with new branches opening up in Jerusalem and then across the Roman Empire to provide coffee and doughnuts for the new converts. I'll be honest with myself here. The idea of change always poses a threat. Therefore I find something assuring about predictability with a promise, to a degree, of security in a comfort zone.

 

Therefore it can be seen in the subconscious a pattern like this in a typical week following week throughout our Christian lives:

Sunday - All about God.

Monday to Friday - Commitment to work, business and homelife.

Saturday - Day off.

 

Most Christian believers would deny such a way of thinking, but let's face it, how nearer the truth has it been really? Even if everyone in the fellowship would insist that they serve God on a daily basis, how does this work out on day-to-day reality? Is driving to church on a Sunday morning on a road vertically free of traffic more exhilarating than being stuck in a snarl-up on a typical weekday morning trying to arrive at the office on time? Then again, on a Sunday morning the sky is clear and the sun streaming through the car windows lifts the spirits even further and therefore tend to sing a praise to God. In turn, on Monday the rain falls steadily, plunging the same environment into a gloomy atmosphere as a long, rush-hour traffic queue appears ahead, caused by a contractor digging up half the road almost a mile further along the route. Then, for the last straw, an impatient motorist cuts in front, causing the need to brake suddenly. Singing praises to God? Or letting out angry expletives? Certainly God was present on the Sunday drive to church. But does he return to Heaven for a cup of coffee and a doughnut by Sunday nightfall? 

What a Winter we had so far. I tend to look with a degree of envy when I hear news on the telly, or read in the newspaper that the American State of California, as well as the African State of Kenya, are suffering drought. Here in England, the Jet Stream has been flowing directly over Southern England, the most densely populated area of the UK. The result being a "conveyor belt" of stormy weather with  an endless chain of low pressure systems following one after another. The result was a ruined Christmas for many, resulting in flooded homes and power cuts. The Somerset Levels in the West Country remain flooded with large areas of farmland underwater and villages evacuated. Our coastline had suffered mass erosion, including the main rail link to Cornwall from London and the rest of the UK totally destroyed. The way farmers are re-acting as well as general public opinion regarding our extreme weather, I am beginning to wonder if Armageddon and the end of the world as we know it are just around the corner.

So everyday throughout the week, I set off from home dressed in a heavy raincoat, even if it may not be raining the moment I leave the front door. Riding a bicycle in the rain is no way a pleasant experience, especially when one of the tyres punctures, as they are prone to when the road is wet. Or as was the case of the past week, day after day of rain forcing me to pack away my work equipment and return home long before the day is fulfilled. It was a near miracle that despite the retreats, I have just managed to bring the week's round to completion on time.

Then my wife's poor health. To date, she is able to walk and complete household tasks, but back pain and stiffness returns if she over-exerts herself, and she is constantly dependent on a variety of pills, mainly to loosen her back muscles and to kill the pain. But I have to carefully watch how much medicine she has in stock, and re-order her supply from the NHS surgery as soon as one set of pills run down, as in her present condition, she is unable to make her way to the surgery unit on her own. A bureaucratic mistake made by either the doctor himself or by the computer operator had caused one set of pills to run out completely after causing a re-order to be stopped. I had to watch my beloved cripple in agonising pain. When the mistake was rectified, I have noticed the cool, fobbing off attitude towards her by the doctor, as if he sees her as a perpetual nuisance, someone to get off his back. Therefore the distress I can feel when she gets upset and her body re-acts, leaving me in an emotional down turn as well as all the housework. When my prayers seem to hit a brick wall, and not only my prayers but those in our church as well, I tend to lose faith and believe that prayer is a waste of time. Why not just eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we shall die.

So at times like these it is tempting to believe that God is far away, left behind to dwell alone in the building where we meet every Sunday. What I find amazing, is that when a crowd of believers sing out in praise to God, I can do the same without hassle, it is another thing to see my beloved writhe in pain after being dismissed by an irate doctor.

Then again, is living in the UK that unhealthy? Although our climate is appalling, we have as many commodities to make living as comfortable to the extent most previous generations could ever imagine. Such as running water from the tap after all the impurities filtered out and chlorinated to kill any harmful bugs, electric power at a touch of a switch, double glazing to keep the Winter cold out, the ability to watch events on the other side of the globe and to talk to someone equally far away. So it goes on. Yet, take a look at the doctor's surgery and the patient's waiting room on a Monday morning and see how the phone lines buzz while a queue builds up at reception, and every seat in the waiting room taken. Can a weekend elapse without someone falling ill? And there are times I feel lonely and forsaken, with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

So really, it is a good thing that my emotional side does not reflect the hard facts - as for example, Psalm 139 so lucidly demonstrates:

Oh LORD, you have searched me and you know me.
You know me when I sit and when I arise; you perceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O LORD.

You hem me in - behind and before; you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain.

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.
Psalm 139:1-10.

That is a terrific psalm, and in it contains a prophecy on international air travel! - To be fulfilled some three thousand years later. But even more important, it demonstrates that God is with us throughout the week, even during working days which can't seem to sink any lower. The truth is, God will never leave us nor forsake us. Even on bad days, God had already knew them long before we are even born. If there is a Scripture that proves without a shadow of a doubt that once saved always saved is true Biblical doctrine, than this is it, along with the New Testament equivalent of Romans chapter 8.

And this is a good place to remind ourselves that our God is a happy God. Yes, God is a happy God! Checking on Luke 15:3-10, Jesus gives two short parables, first about a man who has a hundred sheep and was unfortunate enough to lose one. He then goes out on a search and finds it. He then throws a party with his friends to celebrate the occasion. The second parable is on the same thread as the first one. Here a woman had lost a coin, and like the shepherd, sets out to find it. And having found the lost coin, she too throws a party. Then from verses 11 through to 32, Jesus tells a story of the Prodigal Son, and concludes with the father throwing a party over his safe return. The reality of all this is that someone, somewhere around the world, believes in Jesus Christ as Resurrected Saviour and experiences a new birth. And on each occasion, if these parables were anything to go by, there is rejoicing in Heaven. With the rate of people being saved, we can conclude that the party in Heaven remains endless.

God is a happy God because he sees the reward he has for his Son being fulfilled. The reward is for his suffering and death on the cross to atone for our sins, and the Father is more than delighted to give each and every believer to his Son as a reward. That is the basis of Eternal Security. God's Covenant with his Son, rather than with us. We are a gift to the Son from the Father, according to John 6:39-40 and 17:6-7, and as such, God's intention is that his beloved Son will lose nothing he had received.

And now that is something to celebrate with coffee and doughnuts.