Open Air: Always Intense

Repo man’s always intense.

(Harry Dean Stanton, from the film Repo Man.)

Have you ever dreamed of heaven? It’s a question I’ve often asked, but, thus far, I haven’t met a Christian who has. Some say that they don’t dream at all, which is unlikely: they just don’t remember their time in the nocturnal realm.

I like the land of dreams, because it’s intense, even if part of me knows it’s a dream, and I’m watching what happens as one would watch an exciting film. I like the past, because much of that was extremely intense, and I can relive it at will - even if I wish that some of it had never happened…

And today, in the here and now? It varies: some days seem insufferably dull, or too much of a trial - but then, as Aeneas puts it, “Forsan et haec olim meminisse iubavit.” Aeneid, Book 1, line 203. (“One day it may please us to remember even these things.”)

I would like to be able to remember our Wednesday Open Airs. They are invariably intense, even under a blue sky like today’s, when all seems set fair (though there is a chilly wind, which makes me glad I remembered to bring my lightweight gilet with me).

No sign of Peter thus far, but I’m glad to say that Deline is with us to take his place. She is on my right, Stephen some yards away on the left, and Janette is already hard at work outside Superdrug. There are just a few listeners in the distance, but the tracts are flying out already. Here come half a dozen black youths in black shorts and tee shirts; and at first I think they’re mocking me - but, no! “Lord Jesus, yes! Jesus!” They salute me, and then they take the tracts that Deline offers, and go happily on their way. That’s good!

As a careless clot walks past the GoPro and knocks it sideways, Deline is already running out of literature and goes to get more from Stephen’s rucksack. I straighten the camera without pausing my address, thinking how useful these head mics are, allowing you to move around easily, with both hands unencumbered.

As I come to a close, two small boys go by, trailing after their pram-pushing mother. One is focussed on the ice cream cone in his hand, but the other looks back in wide-eyed wonder as I reach “but unless you repent, you will all likewise perish.” Hmm. I’m not here to frighten little children, although I’ve been accused of such things - particularly on Broadway in Accrington, where the youngest person within earshot is invariably over fifty years old…

There’s an encouraging “God bless you!” as I conclude. Good! As Stephen readies himself, I speak briefly with Deline and give her a copy of our Salem Open Air Statement Of Faith, just to make sure that she knows where we stand, biblically, and I encourage her to download some of our pastor’s sermons from the chapel website, as well.

Then it’s some improvisation from Stephen as he introduces The Story Of The Bible, in which he says more in a short time than I can manage in an afternoon. I survey the scene, noting the numbers of casual listeners in the distance, and the gent in the chequered hoodie perched on a bollard, listening intently while trying to look as though he isn’t. Sirens sound as a police van rounds the bend and forces its way through the throng of pedestrians on Market Street. It’s congested because the tram tracks are still under repair and the centre of the street is fenced off.

A gaggle of dilapidated individuals are camping out on the pavement between Superdrug and McDonald’s, and some of the Stoner Community are out and about near them, wandering round and shouting and swearing from time to time, for no apparent reason. The warmer weather brings them out. Then Deline has to go, but says she’ll come again. I thank her, then look over at Janette, striding up and down and tracting on relentlessly.

And here comes a big, burly fellow; having left the pavement campsite for a wander, he’s heading unsteadily towards Stephen. He has a ginger beard and a green tee shirt stretched tight over his paunch, with a shirt tied around his middle in a vain attempt to camouflage his flab. He’s talking to the empty air, but then he stops in front of Stephen and says something incomprehensible (except for the obscene bits). Stephen looks at him as one might contemplate a dead cat found on a doorstep, and he decides to take himself off again, mumbling and grunting and swearing as he goes.

Unabashed, Stephen finishes his stint and I ready myself once more. As I begin with The State Of The Nation, mentioning my dismay at war in Europe once again, a young man interrupts me. His hair is dark and long and lank, and he’s in a blue hoodie and black jeans. “War comin’!” he calls as he approaches. “It may well be,” I answer, not wishing to get into a conversation. “Ther’s already war ’appenin’ at ther moment! In Britain!”

Dearie me! I need to head him off at the pass. Hmm… “We may well be on the same wavelength, but may I just get on and do my job at the moment?” He nods understandingly. “Oh, yer, yer, you get on and do yer job, pastor!” “Thank-you!” And as he lopes away: “Pastor Paul, yeah!” Pleased with my sudden promotion, but puzzled as to why he thinks I’m called Paul, I carry on.

The State Of The Nation, The Needs Of The Human Heart: you can take it from there, I’m sure. Several groups of secondary school pupils pass by, urged on by tired-looking teachers. I adapt my notes to attract their attention for a few moments as they go by - but then I get carried away on the last lap, inspired (odd though it may seem to some) by the Ramones’ “Swallow My Pride”.

I feel guilty as I finish on the offer of free bibles, since I’ve not left Stephen enough time. As he begins, here comes a portly fellow in a Hi-Vis vest, accompanied by a plump woman in a heavy maroon coat. He has a small but powerful speaker hanging round his neck, bouncing up and down on his midriff as he strolls along. He’s playing some sort of vaguely religious music, and it looks like he’s heading for the station.

No, that was too much to hope for. He’s coming back! He stands at the end of the avenue of street food stalls, facing us, and playing a recording of some kind of Charismatic church service, the sort where a prosperous-looking pastor shouts out “Cheezoos! Cheeezoos! Cheeeezoos!” over and over again, mopping his brow with a big, white handkerchief, and eliciting a cacophony of moans and groans and cries and shrieks from his audience. It sounds like bedlam on a bad day, with every patient off their medication; and it’s utterly incomprehensible to those who pass by.

Fortunately, our time is gone, and we pack up, pray, and make our way to the Arndale for refreshments. And there we meet Gareth, who has been out with us and supported us in the past. We’re pleased to see him. However, he’s here to ask us for our prayers on this occasion. Without going into detail, he’s having to deal with some very difficult family problems at present. He would like us to pray for his family, and that he might find suitable employment, and possibly a place of his own.

I realise that this Newsletter is primarily about the people we encounter during the Open Air, so that readers can pray that they might take to heart the words they’ve heard preached and in the various conversations that go on - usually quietly, in the background - and that the bibles, booklets and tracts given out might find a home in people’s hearts, through God’s Holy Spirit. But that need not preclude prayer for Gareth and Janette, both deserving of our prayers at present.

Please pray for next Wednesday, too, if our Lord puts it upon your heart to do so. The forecast is fine, and without that sneaking wind it should be quite pleasant - as well as intense, of course… Join us if you feel so led!

Every blessing!