PRAYER REQUESTS |
- Ask | For God’s richest blessing on ‘VERONICA’
- Thanks | For having a Bed to stay in last night
- I am inNEWPORT tomorrow, so please pray for Divine appointments please…….and of course for PROVISION. THIS IS A BIG ISSUE.
PROCLAMATION LOCATIONS & NEEDS |
- TOMORROW’S MESSAGE | is ROOTED IN the book of | PSALMS (60) |
- I WILL BE IN THE CITY OFNEWPORT| PROCLAIMING AT: I DON’T KNOW |CAN YOU MAYBE HOOK ME UP SOMEWHERE PLEASE! | 07975 805 323
- IS ACCOMMODATION NEEDED FOR TONIGHT? | YES PLEASE!
- IF YOU CAN HOOK ME UP WITH SOMEONE OR SPONSOR A BED AND BREAKFAST? THAT WOULD BE GREAT) |
- THE DAY AFTER’S MESSAGE | is ROOTED IN the book of | PROVERBS |
- IN THE CITY OF CARDIFF| PROCLAIMING WHERE :I DON’T KNOW |CAN YOU MAYBE HOOK ME UP SOMEWHERE PLEASE! | 07975 805 323
- IS ACCOMMODATION NEEDED? | YES PLEASE!
- IF YOU CAN HOOK ME UP WITH SOMEONE OR SPONSOR A BED AND BREAKFAST THEN THAT WOULD BE GREAT)
See my Full 66 City Tour List by Clicking HERE
THIS IS THE STORY OF TOUR & IS THE CONTENTS OF MY HEAD AND HEART
I slept well last night and was up at 6:00am. Did some typing, though of course in this place there is no internet, and went down for breakfast at 8:30. Typed again until 10:00am and then headed on down to Hereford on a most fantastic and blue sky morning.
I sense very much that this is a bit of a respite. There are some very bust times and challenges ahead. I am off to Wales tomorrow and ‘There be Dragons’.
I park adjacent to the River, pack my bag and head for the Cathedral and the city. Hereford is stunning and seems to be so much more sleepy even than Worcester, but the Cathedral is the home of the MAPPA MUNDI, and there is an awful lot of continuing resotration work going on.
I try to interview the Dean. It’s his day off and he’s headed to the Hills. I don’t actually think deans exist. But the head verger is going to let me speak from Job to the open air Café. It’s a natural little amphitheatre and I go back and get my board, Mr Muscle it down and then mark it up for Hereford and speak from the book of Job to some very surprised onlookers. Some move off in disgust, most are attentive and in the end applaud.
Was Wesley or Whitfield ever applauded? Is this a good thing? Did anyone get changed, challenged or convicted?
I look for another spot to proclaim from in the centre of town. Its bustling and I come up to the medieval Anglican church of All saints.
It’s at the top end of Anglicanism and they are saying mass. I walk into the church and it’s just over and the Vicar is in the vestry getting his clobber off. You have to understand that the church is right in the centre of town and PACKED. But listen up; it is packed with NON church goers. You see to get into this medieval church you walk through a silk Bazaar. The Vestry is an oval smoked glass standalone entity above which is a boat like coffee shop, shaped like the stern of a ship.
Over on the right, in the church, are stainless steel toilets attached to which are the upstairs offices. There is no physical demarcation line between the sacred and the secular. It’s all mixed together. Frankly, this is the best thing I have seen since sliced bread. A medieval church building, used every day of the week, financed and heated by business and doing very well indeed thank you very much. ALL the additions are free standing, such that if you were to remove the office the smoke glassed vestry, the church office, the stainless steel toilets, the vast coffee shop and counters, you would be left with a completely untouched and original medieval church. Why isn’t this being rolled out throughout Britain? Why isn’t Whitfield’s church converted in this way?
I do some banking. Have a quick hot chocolate in Nero’s. Hereford is lovely. But there is nothing more for me to do.
I walk back to the car; I am an hour over the parking limit. I am musing about the effectiveness of the proclamation on Job in the open air Café when Veronica comes up to me. She is in her sixties and a bit jittery.
“Well hello, I was in the Café when you spoke on Job. Yes, very good, but of course…..” and off we went.
Veronica (not her real name), Veronica’s father was a latent homosexual. Having studied in Oxford he went to South Africa to physically build churches. Somewhat disillusioned he returned to England and married and had two children, one of which was a Down’s Syndrome child. His wife found out that he had been arrested as a young man for exposing himself in a Cinema. By now they had separate rooms, when his wife fell pregnant with Veronica. He was not the father. Veronica found out all about this when she was twelve, and the consequences have ripped through her life in depression, divorces and much counselling.
Did Veronica see herself as a sinner? “Oh good God no!” She says. Apparently, her therapist has worked out all the condemnation from here. Veronica is ‘spiritual,’ which basically means she believes almost anything and everything. She has worked with monks in Thailand and goodness knows what else. I share with her my own life story and the Gospel and all the time Veronica is walking back and forth. She doesn’t like what I am saying really, but keeps wanting to talk. I like Veronica. I think she has had a desperately hard life.
It seems to me that the absolute certainties of the Gospel are SO offensive to this generation that we have wrapped them up in fluff and are journeying with folk to God knows where. Consequently there is no conviction of sin. My goodness, it is never even mentioned. So why then, do we need the sacrifice of Christ? Well, we don’t. No sin problem = No need for atonement = No sacrifice needed= Jesus is the good man and not the God-man Saviour. In all our niceness, I fear with have truly we have lost the Gospel.
I set the Sat Nav and drive 45 minutes across the border in Wales and Newport. Now my friends, here is a different fish all together, indeed, as opposite to Hereford as you could ever possibly imagine.
My B&B is in fact a couple of houses. It’s very nice. The receptionist is a very pretty Muslim girl. I think this is a Turkish area? Certainly down the road is a great Shish Kebab shop, where I get me some supper. People seem friendly, but the place is exceptionally run down. Two white welsh guys are walking down the street complaining of another Turkish shop and making reference to Gallipoli. This is gonna be interesting.
I speak to a few people and find out where the City centre is for tomorrow and confirm that in Newport, there appears to be a multitude of churches, all offering, friendly and welcoming worship experiences into a discovered destiny with God. Nice.
Bridget sorts out my room for tomorrow and tells me that the Ferry to Northern Ireland will cost £200!! What!
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