Memoirs of a city pastor
Walking the streets – two by two on either pavement – we plod. Three and a half miles between 10pm and 3 am. It’s not the distance so much as the space. You’re covering a small radius – half a mile at most – but you plod the same ground because different figures arrive to people it. The grey huddle in the doorway to whom you offer a blanket and a cup of tea, the high-heeled hen party wilting for a chance to sink into flip flops, the smart dinner suiters hoping for a lollipop or a bottle of water “for their friend”. We’re programmed to give – until pulled up short by finance. “Not a chance” says tonight’s leader. “Get some water from the bar.”
There is a limit after all.
We pick up broken bottles and smashed glasses with dustpan and brush. We hunt out bins or obliging doorkeepers to deposit them in safe corners. We take a tally – 30/40 in one evening. Solid work, measurable.
We record the number of young ladies we help into taxis, the doorstep phone calls made to Mum, the texts to the pal who lives up the road and who appears a short while later to take them home.
These things we can measure and offer in prayer. Job done.
But how do we measure the kindness shown to the inebriated by complete strangers who happen to have been alongside them in the bar – the arm lending support to a shoulder, a hand deftly keeping hair from trailing in vomit, the cheerful “You’re all right mate, nothing to be ashamed of.” Students who until yesterday’s exam may have been vying with one another are now sitting alongside, all concern and love.
When people ask us, flash with our City Pastor anoraks and radios “Why do you do this?” it can be surprisingly difficult to answer. Our job is not to evangelise. Some party goers oblige by answering for us: “Look! There go the Jesus Loves You’s!” Others come to our side of the pavement: “It’s my boyfriend’s birthday. Give him a hug.”
Well that gives me one happy reason for being on the streets. But if I simply reply to the curious “Because this is what Jesus would do” or “ I believe that God wants to reach out to everyone” - will this be enough to satisfy?
What I do know is that if I were a parent with pub-age children I’d be greatly reassured to know someone was out there for them at night. And maybe that’s what the Almighty thinks too.