29
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
Not one face was familiar when I walked in this morning. There was a lady dressed as Father Christmas doing some vigorous exercises, I guess, in preparation for December. There was a fellow squatted on the ground, holding his head in his hands like his world had utterly collapsed. One fellow made a bee line for me and said, “Are you in charge?” “That’s the rumour,” I said, “although I spend most of my days doing what I’m told”. My humour was lost on him. He said, “I’ve been studying the First World War…” “Well, let’s have a cup of tea and talk about it because it’s one of my favourite subjects”. We’d not said more than a couple of sentences before I realised he knew nothing of the First World War. “Well tell me this then,” he said, “What happens when we die, you know, where do we go and how will I know if I can trust you?” My sense was that he was about as interested in this question as he was the First World War. I said, “What’s up? Are you afraid of dying?” “The last time I felt like this,” he said, “I swallowed six bottles of pills”. Finally! There is nothing more human than a conversation. This man was able to name his fear and we’ve been able to find him some ongoing support.
When they were clearing homeless people from Martin Place last Saturday, I happened to be on the spot. My understanding is that the City of Sydney have been most supportive of the people sleeping rough and have shown great sensitivity to this group. I also understand that the builders on the site have left the need to clear people out of the area until the very last moment. Building is at a stage where it would be unsafe to allow people to stay put. On Saturday that was a massive team from the State Department of Family and Community Services, doing all they could to find better options for people. I’ve heard and read some criticism this week but in my view, good will and sensitivity marked every part of...[read more]
Not one face was familiar when I walked in this morning. There was a lady dressed as Father Christmas doing some vigorous exercises, I guess, in preparation for December. There was a fellow squatted on the ground, holding his head in his hands like his world had utterly collapsed. One fellow made a bee line for me and said, “Are you in charge?” “That’s the rumour,” I said, “although I spend most of my days doing what I’m told”. My humour was lost on him. He said, “I’ve been studying the First World War…” “Well, let’s have a cup of tea and talk about it because it’s one of my favourite subjects”. We’d not said more than a couple of sentences before I realised he knew nothing of the First World War. “Well tell me this then,” he said, “What happens when we die, you know, where do we go and how will I know if I can trust you?” My sense was that he was about as interested in this question as he was the First World War. I said, “What’s up? Are you afraid of dying?” “The last time I felt like this,” he said, “I swallowed six bottles of pills”. Finally! There is nothing more human than a conversation. This man was able to name his fear and we’ve been able to find him some ongoing support.
When they were clearing homeless people from Martin Place last Saturday, I happened to be on the spot. My understanding is that the City of Sydney have been most supportive of the people sleeping rough and have shown great sensitivity to this group. I also understand that the builders on the site have left the need to clear people out of the area until the very last moment. Building is at a stage where it would be unsafe to allow people to stay put. On Saturday that was a massive team from the State Department of Family and Community Services, doing all they could to find better options for people. I’ve heard and read some criticism this week but in my view, good will and sensitivity marked every part of...[read more]
22
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
This week you have me again, Jon Owen, Wayside’s Assistant Pastor, stepping in for Graham Long. Thank you for welcoming me into the space you share together. Graham is recovering well and looks forward to sharing with you next week.
“Jonny, got a dollar?” My pockets were empty so I offered him a chat instead. This kid had sent us all into a spin when he inexplicably disappeared for a few weeks. The alert that he had gone missing was raised after a friend who hadn’t seen him for a while spotted him eating out of a bin in another part of the city. A few days earlier I’d stopped by his mum’s house to check in on him. I was met by her new boyfriend at the door who told me that the kid was “doing his own thing” for a couple of weeks to give them some space. He was 11 years old.
I was relieved to see this little fellow was safe and I told him how worried we’d all been. He shrugged, laughed his absence off and quickly moved the conversation along. His keen mind skipped around a variety of topics, using language filled with colour and regularly returning to the phrase “deez nutz” for comfort. The expression sailed right over my head, a clear sign I’m getting old. Much like a Sunday drive on a winding country road, our chat casually covered some ground and just when it all began to feel a little familiar, he steered it around a sharp corner. “I don't think anyone actually plans to have kids, they just happen and then they get in your way”. Then his mouth was off again in another direction until another flash of inspiration. “You know stuff about religion right? So did God have parents or didn’t they want him either?” His voice tapered off as he heard his own words spill out, realising it was too late to stuff them back in. His eyes darted to mine then down, in a look that was somewhere between shame and resignation.
Keep reading[read more]
This week you have me again, Jon Owen, Wayside’s Assistant Pastor, stepping in for Graham Long. Thank you for welcoming me into the space you share together. Graham is recovering well and looks forward to sharing with you next week.
“Jonny, got a dollar?” My pockets were empty so I offered him a chat instead. This kid had sent us all into a spin when he inexplicably disappeared for a few weeks. The alert that he had gone missing was raised after a friend who hadn’t seen him for a while spotted him eating out of a bin in another part of the city. A few days earlier I’d stopped by his mum’s house to check in on him. I was met by her new boyfriend at the door who told me that the kid was “doing his own thing” for a couple of weeks to give them some space. He was 11 years old.
I was relieved to see this little fellow was safe and I told him how worried we’d all been. He shrugged, laughed his absence off and quickly moved the conversation along. His keen mind skipped around a variety of topics, using language filled with colour and regularly returning to the phrase “deez nutz” for comfort. The expression sailed right over my head, a clear sign I’m getting old. Much like a Sunday drive on a winding country road, our chat casually covered some ground and just when it all began to feel a little familiar, he steered it around a sharp corner. “I don't think anyone actually plans to have kids, they just happen and then they get in your way”. Then his mouth was off again in another direction until another flash of inspiration. “You know stuff about religion right? So did God have parents or didn’t they want him either?” His voice tapered off as he heard his own words spill out, realising it was too late to stuff them back in. His eyes darted to mine then down, in a look that was somewhere between shame and resignation.
Keep reading
08
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
About 90 fresh faces filled our Community Hall for an orientation of new volunteers this week. It's always an honour to speak at these events, although on this occasion, I was squashing the honour between two demanding appointments. Walking into the hall, I was astonished, as I always am, that so many people are keen to be involved with us at Wayside. I was handed a microphone and began looking for my first words when a face in the front row made time stop. In a moment I cared nothing about the pressing appointment in front of me, or even what I was meant to be doing at that very time. A stunning, confident, warm face burst to life when our eyes met. The first time I’d laid eyes on her, years ago, there was no eye contact; the woman couldn't look up from the floor. She was in real trouble. A marriage of abuse and isolation had driven her mad to the point that she burnt her house down with no care about whether the fire took her husband's life or her own. The day we met, she had condemned herself as the lowest of human beings but standing in front of a hall full of people was a young woman, fully alive and keen to serve others at Wayside. Sometimes looking into a face can lead you to, "Wow!" It's awe. I read once that the word, "awe" comes from the sound of our breath when we lift back our heads in wonder.
Our chefs and volunteer cooks at Wayside really do make their food with love. At Bondi people are offered menus and receive table service from the best volunteer wait staff in Sydney. All main dishes cost in the order of one to two dollars but the food is worthy of any restaurant in the main street. I've seen plenty of people taking photos of their food because it is so beautifully presented. One of our chefs at Kings Cross puts so much into his cooking that he thinks his food has the power to heal. Yesterday he sent some chocolate biscuits to the cafe and he called them "electro-choc-therapy-cookies"
About 90 fresh faces filled our Community Hall for an orientation of new volunteers this week. It's always an honour to speak at these events, although on this occasion, I was squashing the honour between two demanding appointments. Walking into the hall, I was astonished, as I always am, that so many people are keen to be involved with us at Wayside. I was handed a microphone and began looking for my first words when a face in the front row made time stop. In a moment I cared nothing about the pressing appointment in front of me, or even what I was meant to be doing at that very time. A stunning, confident, warm face burst to life when our eyes met. The first time I’d laid eyes on her, years ago, there was no eye contact; the woman couldn't look up from the floor. She was in real trouble. A marriage of abuse and isolation had driven her mad to the point that she burnt her house down with no care about whether the fire took her husband's life or her own. The day we met, she had condemned herself as the lowest of human beings but standing in front of a hall full of people was a young woman, fully alive and keen to serve others at Wayside. Sometimes looking into a face can lead you to, "Wow!" It's awe. I read once that the word, "awe" comes from the sound of our breath when we lift back our heads in wonder.
Our chefs and volunteer cooks at Wayside really do make their food with love. At Bondi people are offered menus and receive table service from the best volunteer wait staff in Sydney. All main dishes cost in the order of one to two dollars but the food is worthy of any restaurant in the main street. I've seen plenty of people taking photos of their food because it is so beautifully presented. One of our chefs at Kings Cross puts so much into his cooking that he thinks his food has the power to heal. Yesterday he sent some chocolate biscuits to the cafe and he called them "electro-choc-therapy-cookies"
01
Jun
2017
Dear Inner Circle,
Walking down Hughes Street this morning, I met a woman whose face was swollen around one eye and cheek bone. It was a familiar face, even though we have probably only ever spoken perhaps once in the past twelve months. I remember her because she speaks with extraordinary warmth. While I have no idea of her background, my hunch is that she was raised by grandparents because she dresses like a woman double her age and her vocabulary is full of the kind of euphemisms that I associate with a kindly old aunt. “Oh gosh!” I said, “What happened to you?” She took one of my hands as if I needed comforting and said, “I was sleeping under the railway bridge last night and a complete stranger jumped on me and insisted I give something that I didn’t want to give him.” Her rough but warm hand really was extraordinarily comforting as I tried to express my sadness of the horror she’d lived through last night. “Don’t worry Rev,” she said with the best smile she could give through a sore face, “I fought like a tiger!”
What a fabulous time of year to be in love with Sydney. In these perfect autumn days, it’s an ideal time to walk around the city and notice how clean it is. It’s a good time to notice that although there is often helicopter noise overhead, they are not shooting at us. Our evenings a little cooler, the real bitter winter hasn’t yet set in, and the conditions are perfect for walking around the city to see how the Vivid Festival lights up our city with astonishing, moving colour. Last night I stood mesmerised in front of the famous Coca-Cola sign in the Cross. What is normally just a landmark or advertising is animated in ways you would think impossible for such a sign. And on the billboard beside it is a moving show of what must be hundreds of...[read more]
Walking down Hughes Street this morning, I met a woman whose face was swollen around one eye and cheek bone. It was a familiar face, even though we have probably only ever spoken perhaps once in the past twelve months. I remember her because she speaks with extraordinary warmth. While I have no idea of her background, my hunch is that she was raised by grandparents because she dresses like a woman double her age and her vocabulary is full of the kind of euphemisms that I associate with a kindly old aunt. “Oh gosh!” I said, “What happened to you?” She took one of my hands as if I needed comforting and said, “I was sleeping under the railway bridge last night and a complete stranger jumped on me and insisted I give something that I didn’t want to give him.” Her rough but warm hand really was extraordinarily comforting as I tried to express my sadness of the horror she’d lived through last night. “Don’t worry Rev,” she said with the best smile she could give through a sore face, “I fought like a tiger!”
What a fabulous time of year to be in love with Sydney. In these perfect autumn days, it’s an ideal time to walk around the city and notice how clean it is. It’s a good time to notice that although there is often helicopter noise overhead, they are not shooting at us. Our evenings a little cooler, the real bitter winter hasn’t yet set in, and the conditions are perfect for walking around the city to see how the Vivid Festival lights up our city with astonishing, moving colour. Last night I stood mesmerised in front of the famous Coca-Cola sign in the Cross. What is normally just a landmark or advertising is animated in ways you would think impossible for such a sign. And on the billboard beside it is a moving show of what must be hundreds of...[read more]
Archives
June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014
Graham's Twitter