The concrete heart...

I am typically an observer. I tend to notice the small things others might not see. I also pay attention to the structure of abandoned worn down buildings or the messages of graffiti. I see the impact of discarded rubbish or even the joy on the face of a child with poor living conditions. But I don't just see it - I feel it.

Today I had my 3rd E-day - or Evangelism day for those playing at home. In the past 2 E-days I've only left the ship once, and that was to walk around the nearby park in Brisbane and promote the ship to the community for a couple of hours. This wasn't very successful because out of all the people we talked to, the first 2 groups had already been on the Doulos, the 3rd were going to the Doulos already, a big group of people playing sports were actually families from the Doulos so we obviously didn't promote to them, and the very few people we spoke to after that didn't want to know.

So when I got told I'd be going to hang with kids with one of our crewmember's parents, I was overjoyed! I've missed the chilluns from HYPE where I was part of the leadership, so the opportunity to spend time with kids really excited me! So a meeting was set up with the 4 people doing the E-day and our group leader, Samuel [Switzerland] was asking about some of the creative ministries things we could do. I had no idea. The other team members have been on the ship for a longer time, some for up to a year, and have done many E-days so the skits and drama's they've done were things they could discuss. We decided that since we were so unsure about what we'd be doing anyway, we'd just let God really work in us.

Our pickup came at midday today, and 5 [gained one teamie overnight] climbed aboard. It had been mentioned to us in our prayer meeting at 11am that the term 'kids' was quite - broad. Not so many kids, more people. And we were going to be with Aboriginals or Muslims. When we arrived, the original plan Stanley [crewmate's Dad] had apparantly come with an unexpected surprise - something else was already happening.

Then we were kinda just followed Stanley around - which is something I utterly hate doing because I feel like I'm not allowing things to happen while I'm only following someone around - but he introduced us to people, and we handed out some flyers, and then we walked...

We walked past falling down houses that have bricked up or boarded up windows and doors to prevent people from squatting there, but mainly to stop people having some place to go to 'shoot up'. We walked past fenced off stairs and areas covered in broken glass. This apparantly is what it looks like when its 'clean' too. We walked past houses that had a horrid stench coming out of them and people still live there because there's no where else for them to go. We talked to people and said hello despite their consumption of alcohol and cigarettes that have almost burnt down to their fingers.

I looked, and tried not to stare. I tried particularly not to stare at a man who was wearing women's clothes. I tried not to stare at people who perhaps once were big drug users and now the drugs have taken their affect on their body. I tried not to stare at the people who find their clothes in Villi's bins. I tried not to stare at the ground expecting to see needles, and tried harder not to search for them.

But then, lyying on the ground I see a piece of broken concrete from a set of stairs that used to exist. I'm not sure if it fell or was brought down by choice from someone, but everything had been taken away and the ground sealed up, 'clean' is what it was called despite the broken glass lying around this piece of tarred concrete. It facinated me [who know's why, I don't find concrete particularly facinating] and I walked over to it. Surprisingly it was a concrete 'heart'. A broken piece of concrete that had its shape like a heart. And I felt compelled to pick it up.

The thing is, the moment I had grabbed that piece of broken concrete, I saw the whole situation of the day differently. Sure, most of those people were probably in poverty by some sort of choice, a choice that they made to put drugs, alcohol, or another form of 'abuse' before themselves. Sure, most didn't know God and don't know the freedom a person like myself knows. But among their 'shattered glass' life, there is still going to be hope. It might also not come from themselves. It might be someone foreign, like my team mates and myself, who have a hope for these people with 'shattered glass' lives that one day the life they live can change. My crewmate's parent's continue to work there in that area with those people hoping to help change their lives.

...just like the tree that was surrounded by brickwork, graffiti, torn posters, rubbish and glass, still growing tall reaching towards the sky...

I was confronted yet encouraged by my little adventure today. And then to make it all the more better, we have Security tonight. If you could please open your bag and place it in the tray there...

... please step over to the screening...

... and turn...

Thankyou...

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