TODAY I am in SUNDERLAND and tomorrow in DURHAM – PLEASE PRAY FOR ME
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THE CONTENTS OF MY HEAD AND HEART
SO DO CHECK BACK-MEANWHILE :
- I rang the Lord Mayor’s office. The Mayor is booked out all day. I left my number anyways.
- BBC Newcastle Tyne & Wear radio. I spoke to the news desk and they said they will contact me later. We shall see.
- I ring the Pastor of a growing church which has been recommended to me. He is tied up but gives me the name of a ‘mover and a shaker’. I call the big cheese and manage to get hold of him just as he is flying out of the door to the gym. I tell him my story, he believes it’s of God, I am relieved, he tells me to be at such and such a church at 11:50am and not a moment before.
- BBC Newcastle ring back and a guy wants to meet me in the City to do an interview. I ask him if he knows the ‘not a minute before’ church. He does. I tell him I will meet him there an hour before 11:50am. That’s should keep me safe. I meet him and Chris does a great interview. It could be broadcast today, it could be broadcast on Sunday.
In Newcastle now, the first city back in England, I now have some time to kill and so I Sat Nav a search for ‘fast food’ and go down to Maccy D’s which is less than a mile away. I get some chicken snacks and access the Wi Fi.
Alan works at Maccy D’s he and his girlfriend have a second child on the way. I ask if he can ask the manager if I can interview him. The manager is too busy, but whilst doing his job, Alan hangs round for a good half hour chatting about God. He lost his brother a few years ago. Where was God then? I keep telling him God loves him. I don’t usually do this and Alan holds back the smiles and in pure Geordie he says “I don’t want to be disrespectful like, but yees sounds to us like a 1960’s tree hugginhippy like.” So all through our conversation I keep telling him God loves him. Alan has had contact with Christians and is looking for a supernatural sign to indicate that there is God who cares. I tell him to look at me, then says “Mate, I am here for one day only, this is a divine connection and I am the supernatural sign you are looking for.” I tell him the Gospel.
What people don’t recognise is that God’s supernatural signs are often the common a day contacts and circumstances we find ourselves in and sometimes the handsome people we meet are often messengers from Him. From now on I shall sign my name like William Huntingdon SS of old, ‘Rev. Victor Robert Farrell SS’ -Supernatural Sign
At 11:50am I turn up at the church leaders meeting. The mover and shaker is more eccentric than I am! We have an interesting first encounter. It’s OK in the end. The prayer meeting goes well and the M&S says I have turned up out of the blue like Melchizedek of old and he introduces me and asks me to tell my story. He is very, very gracious. I tell it. They believe they need to find me a venue. Another Pastor called Banjo invites me to speak at his church in the evening where they shall be practicing and praying for a large outreach concert they shall be having. Wonderful. Meanwhile an older gentleman whispers something into the M&S’s ear. He then says “Well Abraham gave tithes to Melchizedek so let’s take up an offering. It amounted to over £100. I am stunned at this generosity.Thank you Jesus.
I did some interviews there and then went to check out Newcastle city centre. It was around 2:00pm and I was not speaking until 8:30pm so I had time to park myself up in a coffee shop somewhere and REALLY catch up on some typing. Who knows, I might even be able to find a post office and see to some correspondence.
I parked the car in the shadow of Newcastle’s all encompassing temple of worship and finance, St James Park. The stadium is home to Newcastle football team and the famous ‘Toon Army’. Folks take their soccer and city pride VERY seriously up here and the building is truly remarkable.
The city centre is packed and I am hungry. I have some money in my pocket and am blooming freezing. Some Geordies are still just walking around in their T shirts but they are ALL really friendly and I get directions to the bank and the post office. “The F’ing bank? What you wantin? Is it the F’ing cash machine like? Ahh OK, ye guhdoon this street and tak a f’ing left and it’s in WH Smith up the F’ing stair, like.” The guy was very drunk and insisted on singing a selection of country music songs to me. This is what he did everyday. He didn’t do drugs, he thought that was irresponsible. He was a quiet man, not looking for trouble. So he just came out each day on ‘the lash’ and then went home to sleep it off. This Alcoholic counted himself higher up the food chain compared to a drug addict. I interview him, but he is fried. Alcohol. It’s a killer.
I find a Starbucks near the Grey Monument and order a Chai Latte and a hot BBQ pork sandwich to heat me up. The grant monument had lots of Police wandering around it simply because it was being occupied by young protesters, a mixture of travellers and free thinkers all camping on the far side of the monument in make shift tents. They were part of the ‘Occupy Wall Street’ movement protesting against the 1% who own all the money and were running and ruining the world. I honestly don’t know what they were going to achieve occupying the Grant monument. The press were there.
I googled the monument to find out that in the past a lightning strike had took of the head of the statue and left it in pieces on the ground, these same pieces were buried beneath the monument. A monument to political and social reform coupled with religious freedom with a severed head buried at its base, occupied by fuzzy protesters, watched by Police and the press. It was a cold but nice afternoon and this was too good to miss.
I asked the semi-Goth next to me who was out for a coffee with her mum if she knew where I could get a severed head. She did.
Thirty minutes later, I was walking back from my parked car pulling my PA, and carrying severed head through the city centre. I checked with the ‘Fuzz’ about what I was about to do, informed the ‘Fuzzies’ camped on the monument, hired a Big issues seller for £6.00 as a cameraman, gave him some brief instructions (he didn’t speak very good English) and then got to it. I started swinging my severed head around and lifting it high inviting the people to Newcastle to come and listen to what I had to say. For contemporary effect I had the Vendetta mask on the back of the head. Honest, there were maybe fifty folk in total, near and far, all stopping for a listen. The gift from the very Charismatic prayer group had bought my lunch and my severed head. They had fuelled and prayed and enabled me. They were to blame for any bad outcome.
No sooner had I started speaking about the Bible but one of the Fuzzies came and nicked my Vendetta mask. Another one began shouting that ‘we didn’t need to be ruled by a book’ I offered him my microphone. He was surprised! So he took it and got to it. An old woman in the crowd started to shout “You Do need the book!’ I gave her my other microphone and stepped back. I was now feeling like a body guard on the Jerry Springer show. She came up to the monument and started to give the fuzzy some ‘jip’ about homosexuality; “Bigot!” cried one of the Fuzzies standing next to the Police officer. All the time I am politely trying to move the woman back from getting to close to the other guy with the Mic. In the end I had to take the Mic from her as she is starting to come out with stuff that just might get her arrested. The other geezer goes back to his protest group.
I carry on speaking about John’s two points on social responsibility and the bankers ( don’t extort money and if you have two coats give one away) and of course how we were to change our ways and our mind because the Kingdom of heaven was at hand. I closed in brief prayer and then paid my cameraman. I hope he had gotten all of this. I noticed the battery had run out on my video recorder.
I sat down on the monument after this and debated, shared, talked, with a lesbian an evolutionist and an atheist. I gave away three Bibles. There was no conviction of sin whatsoever. There was no outward evidence of God being at work. I then spoke with my Fuzzy interrupter. He was a Hollywood Buddhist who believed we were all God. America was not for freedom but fascist domination. He said we in the UK were a fascist state and the Queen ruled the world through the ownership of Uranium mines. He had a five pound note with her head on just to prove it. He had a degree and was as mad as a box of frogs.
It seemed as though my afternoon escapade had been all talk and debate, but little of Gods work of conviction. Still. I will not despise the day of small things, and who knows what God will do with all of this. The young lesbian girl had promised to read the Bible I gave her and give one to her flatmate.
There was a call from Pastor Banjo on my voicemail when I got back to the car. He was very apologetic but the meeting could not go ahead tonight. The worship band would be practicing and playing very loud. I assured his heart that this was not a problem. All was well. In fact, I was feeling a little shaky and would be pleased of an early night. So, I headed on out through the late evening traffic and up a long country road overlooking the city to a farmhouse tucked away in the woods. The house, which had been occupied since the 1600’s, and the Christian couple which occupied it now, showed me to my beautiful en-suite room and then I joined them for Fish Pie, and beer followed by Tart tatan They and it were all magnificent.
My friend John up in Aberdeen had arranged all this and he texted me to tell me that he had also arranged for me to see the European director at God TV in Sunderland tomorrow.
I was exhausted and so got to bed early and crashed out until the morning. I rang Bridget and then went to sleep wondering what tomorrow would bring.Meanwhile, I have a severed head in the back of the car. I am open to offers.
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