Community Meal 04-03
"So let's not allow ourselves to get fatigued doing good," she reads slowly, meaningfully. Rosi has a beautiful voice, and has just completed a story-telling course, so it's no wonder we all listen in silence (except Angel, who wants to "cuddle Esme!").
I look around the room at these gathered friends... sat on a few scattered chairs and on the steps leading into the corridor, others leaning on door-posts, or still making drinks in the through-kitchen, peering over shoulders to catch every word. I am so very grateful for these friends, with whom I share so many good past-memories, and in whom I have found such hope for the future... such wonderful people.
Rosi, and her husband
Jon Bilbrough, married last year in a beautifully decorated barn, beneath a canopy of feathers, on what felt like the coldest day of the year - they are probably the most creative couple I know - I love them, and their families, dearly. After years of (im)patient praying and 'getting by', she's finally landed a (dream) job developing new programmes with cBeebies. And Jon, after equally (im)patient waiting/writing/gigging has just released his first singer/song-writer cd/ep, and is courting contracts right now (check out his songs on
his myspace).
"At the right time," Rosi continues, "we will harvest a good crop if we don't give up, or quit." I smile to myself, realising how appropriate these words are for both of them. "Right now, therefore, every time we get the chance, let us work for the benefit of all, starting with the people closest to us in the community of faith."
The people closest to me, I muse. My community of faith? Well, many of them are here. I'm not entirely sure how we all came together, but here we are... a community of faith. I wonder for a moment if I know what that really means?
Next to Jon, I notice Gel, bottle-feeding his one-year-old daughter, Amber (Gel's wife, Sarah, is 'taking a break' at home a few roads away, studying to become a financial advisor). Amber is the liveliest young child I think I've ever known, always on the move, exploring, touching, investigating. And Gel is one of the gentlest young men I've ever known. A short series of moments that Gel and I have shared flicker through my mind, snap-shots of stories we have shared, with many
others... times praying, walking on mountain-tops, worshipping in 24-7prayer rooms, conversations about life and theology and sex and marriage, competing across a badminton net. I can't help but chuckle quietly to myself.
In front of the randomly-stacked Bilbrough bookshelves (I browse them everytime I visit - something about the randomness fools me into thinking I might find something new amongst them) sits Jon's Dad, Dave. And Pat's over near the kitchen doorway as well.
Pat (who I don't have a photo of, strangely) once ran me around a crowded, overheated marquee in the grounds of Royal Holloway University, yelling, "I'm going to push you, Phil... you better keep running for Jesus, because I'm going to keep pushing you... I'm for you, I believe in you, I will encourage you, but I won't let you stop... you have to keep running!" We barely dodged our way around bewildered youth workers, who leapt in all directions. But I think I got the message. Pat and Dave have faithfully encouraged (maybe even 'parented'?) Emma and I, and many others, for many years. And Emma's sitting beside Pat right now... they'll talk for while after we've eaten I suspect.
Rosi prays and draws my drifting attention. She thanks God for our friendships and our food, and asks for God's blessing on our time together. I whisper my Amen, as sincerely as I have ever meant the word. I like the way Eugene Peterson translates it, "Yes, Yes, Yes!"
And so the conversation begins as we cluster around the table, heavy with the food that different people have made and brought along - Dewi and Sarah's lasagne is especially good! I talk with Richy about his week, which has been difficult for lots of reasons... and then with Sarah, about my recent travelling and the new 24-7prayer uk team. She likes what I describe of Si and Ali's skate-shop/prayer-room in Torbay, and we begin dreaming a little more of what God could do with and through us, here in Romford. I love this conspiratorial dreaming. :o)
Pockets of twos and threes spread out around Rosi and Jon's downstairs flat, eating and talking. Dewi and I begin to tackle the washing-up, as we consider a few ways to pray together more regularly, as a whole community of friends. Maybe we can agree to use the Moravian daily text, or arrange a short daily 'meet' (or even a few of them) for prayer?
The familiar ache of frustration burns briefly in my chest... I long to find a big community-house nearby - proximity is so important for things like this. Sarah tells me later that she and Dewi pray every time they pass the house that we were chasing a few months ago... I realise, with some surprise, that I still have a flicker of faith for that place?
And it's so good to see our friends Ian and Helen, and baby-Esme (who still refuses to smile at me... in spite of my offer of ice-cream. Hehe) again... I realise how much I've missed them, being away throughout February. Laughing, I tell them about a conversation that we'd had on the way. From the back of
the car, Megan had asked what we thought Helen was having (a boy or a girl... she's pregnant by the way), and then had promptly answered her own question, "I think she's having twins!" "I think she's having a toy," countersed Angel immediately, at which we all burst into laughter. Ian and Helen do too.
Lots of our friends were missing on Sunday, for different reasons, but it was wonderful to share the meal with those who were there. Later, Emma and I agree that we need to invite our new home-educating friends from Brentwood, Roberta and Leon, along soon. And Marcus, the guy from Romania, who sells the Big Issue in Romford - Emma's got to know him quite a bit.
We need to open our meals and homes and lives to people like this... and maybe, just like Zaccheus, they will taste the salvation of Jesus in this sharing?
