Dear Inner Circle,

Outside my window just now a bloke yelled, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for I am the meanest son of a b**ch in this city.” How funny is that?

On my way into the building this morning, I was greeted by a smile that reached into my heart and robbed my brain of any content. A dear man who I have seen through many a ‘dark night of the soul’ was busting to see me and tell me that he hadn’t gambled since September. It isn’t alcohol or any other drugs that bring this fellow down, but the pokies. For years he’s poured what little money he had into those machines and each time it was as if he was feeding his character into them. The emptiness and self-loathing that followed was disturbing to behold. It was not just that he suffered the indignity of going for days without food or needing to beg for a bus fare. It was that he was willing to be robbed in this way. His body shows evidence of deep self-hate, with thousands of scars from deep, untreated wounds. Both of us knew the significance of this meeting, yet we did not need to say a word. His face said it all. He was here and he was ok and we threw our arms around each other because we both knew and rejoiced in it. Afterwards, we told some silly jokes to each other over coffee, his shout.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle

Through all the tears and the laughter; through the exhaustion and the inspiration; through the failures and the successes; you’ve been with us. I can hardly believe another year is done. In a few days, another Wayside Christmas street party will take place and an extraordinary outpouring of goodwill will be revealed in plain view, to lift and inspire all who have eyes to see. Naturally, there will be some who don’t see. Some will complain that their prawns are not as big as the prawns on their neighbour’s plate. Love is always invisible to those who are driven to profit. Yet for many who are just tired or hardened by life, the awesome at the heart of this day will have the power to capture and to bring joy. Those most in danger of missing it are those who think they are manufacturing it. To our precious staff and volunteers, I say, “don’t forget to look”. To you, our inner circle, I can hardly overstate how important you are to our life. You have made time to read of our work every week this year. Some of you have written to share your own heart and your own life stories. Many of you have sent in shampoos, undies and socks. Many hundreds of you have sent messages of love that meant the world to us. Many of you have supported our “Donate a Plate” and Christmas appeal or arrived at our front door asking how you can help.

Here’s to you, our precious inner circle. Thank you for being there for us.

On behalf of all of Wayside, I wish you a happy Christmas and a 2018 that is full of life. All the food has been delivered and our volunteers are in place for our Christmas Day celebrations, but if you have no plans I welcome you to join us as a guest on the day. If there is any danger of being lonely this Christmas, come and join us and let the sheer joy of this day capture you and surprise you. We will close Hughes Street and once again the road will be filled with celebration. We will help love prevail, as we do each Christmas....[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

So much heartache and confusion comes because we listen with our ears instead of our eyes. Predatory people have a way of using language, not to communicate but to paralyse. When I was a chaplain at Parramatta prison, I was struck by how often I heard the phrase, “Now see what you made me do!” I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve met kids and adults who were carrying crippling burdens of guilt for dreadful acts that they never committed. Predatory behaviour usually comes with its own propaganda and if you hear it often enough, it can restrict the ability to see. Last night a young fellow told me how his life had collapsed into a dark hole from which there seemed to be no escape. Several times he mentioned that he’d come from good circumstances and that his recent behaviour was unintelligible even to himself. I was interested to hear of the “good circumstances” from which he came and to my surprise the young man began describing a life of unspeakable abuse. It became clearer that his abuse always came with the kind of lectures that said, “Nobody cares for you except me” or “everyone is out to destroy you and all you have is me”.

An abuser can disguise themselves in many ways but one of the most effective ways is as a “crusader”. If you know history you’ll know that term was used to cover murder and robbery on a grand scale, all in the name of God. If I had my way I’d wire up every home, every church and every workplace so that a siren sounded whenever “crusader speech” began. There would be some homes, churches and workplaces where my siren would render people into blessed deafness. I’m sure many abusers believe their own propaganda. There was a time when the church controlled people by threatening fear of hell and while most today don’t buy it, they’re happy for politicians to remind them of the dangers - from which only they can offer protection. My sirens would drown out most political speeches....[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

I was sitting in our front garden yesterday when a woman ran towards me and shouted, “I need money!” I guess she hoped that I’d react to her sense of panic and find some cash in super-quick time. “What do you need?” I asked. “A thousand dollars” she replied. “Woah!”, I said, “You’re miles out of my ballpark to help.” “But you drive a Mercedes Benz!” she said. I was a bit surprised. “It’s silver and it’s convertible.” I confessed that I would love a Mercedes if I could afford one, but she was sadly mistaken, “A mate had one that I rode in it once but that was my only ride in a Mercedes ever. When he sold it, I needed a course of anti-depressants and some serious counselling.” The lady looked at me like she never believed a word. “But, you own this whole building” she said. She looked in awe at the front of the Wayside building. Lots of street dwellers have the view that the building in front of us is my personal possession. “I hate to ruin a good story but I don’t own any building of any kind, anywhere.” “Well, what about one hundred dollars then?” she asked. “How about two dollars?” I offered. The deal was done.

I’m writing this note a day early because by the time you are reading this, I’ll be in Brisbane to appear on “Conversations” with Richard Fidler on ABC Radio National. I’m taking three of my granddaughters with me so that they can visit their big sister who has fallen in love with a soldier in the Australian Defence Force and now lives in Brisbane. I lay awake at night thinking up new ways of making these girls say, “Wow”. What a trip this will be as my girls encourage me to break all the rules, only for them to promptly “dob” on me when we get back to Mum. If there’s more fun to be had than being a grandfather, I can’t begin to imagine what it might be.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,
There are few places where you can lament birthdays that won’t be celebrated, school assemblies that won’t be attended, weddings that didn’t happen and grandchildren that will never be born. The ache in a parent who loses a child remains forever. By the time you’re reading this today, I will be with some people who will make a public park a hallowed place. Time doesn’t heal all wounds and really some wounds ought not to heal. I never want to live as if I’d never lost a precious son and nor do I want to be a wet blanket for anyone else’s journey. Precious and few are the moments when such a deep pain can become familiar and even a friend. This morning I will lead such a ceremony. Tomorrow night, I will lead a similar ceremony in a Catholic cathedral that will be packed with parents who’ve lost their children. What a painful honour and agonising joy to share life in such fullness with others.

I have news to share regarding Robyn’s health. The short version of a long story is that although she was diagnosed as having had a stroke, eventually she was diagnosed with a syndrome that is caused by cerebral fluid not draining from the head properly, causing symptoms of paralysis and of a stroke. The good news is that in 95% of cases, people with this syndrome recover to full health. Now I’m not a betting person, but I like those odds, and I’m pleased and relieved to tell you that Robyn is home from hospital and every day she seems to be doing better than the day before. I can’t begin to express our relief. Thank you for the overwhelming number of messages of love and support in response to last week’s note.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

Sitting in our café, I paid little attention to a young fellow who sat beside me until he rested his head on my shoulder. At first, I wondered if a substance was causing him to find it hard to stay awake, but it became clear that he was holding his head in a deliberate act of affection. No words had been said. Not all dialogue needs words. After what felt like some long minutes, we turned and looked into each other’s faces.Still without words, I got it. A fellow who had been doing well, was in a lot of trouble. “Can we talk?” he said as he got up and walked outside. It took a while to free myself from what I was doing, and find this fellow standing alone across the other side of Hughes Street. When the words started, they gushed. “Trouble” hardly begins to describe his situation. It was hard to understand how anyone could fit so much trouble into just a few weeks. The last time we met, he had the freedom of looking everyone in the eye. Today his eyes scanned every direction all the time, not just looking for cops; they are the least of his worries. I hugged the bloke and said, “Mate, you did this to yourself. There is no upside to this.” There was some more dialogue with few words. I hoped he could see his emptiness and my lack of words put us both together in a state of loss and grief. I hope by now he’s turned himself into the cops as he’d be a lot safer with them than just about anywhere else. My parting words were, “I’d rather be lost with you than saved without you.” We hugged once more and I pointed and said, “The police station is that way.”

I’m relieved that the same-sex marriage issue is resolved. None of us emerged from this period of debate well. The process has demonstrated with new clarity for me the polarising effect of the debate. The agony of these past weeks has been to see how people clustered together to push their point. Both sides, offering opposing arguments and gathering ever greater...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

Welcoming a new life into a family, a tribe, a community and into humanity, with a special ceremony is usually a happy and beautiful occasion. Yet there are times when some try to manage the moment with such a fuss that tempers flare while the beauty evaporates. In the past few days, I’ve participated in several such ceremonies. One father was an outlaw bikie and at first glance, it was hard not to be taken aback. I must have been a prison chaplain for too long because when a face is heavily tattooed, my heart melts in a lake of lead. Thankfully, I was wrong again. I met a beautiful man who loved his family. We cracked jokes together and it was all going well until I asked which club he belonged to. I said, “Are you with ‘Deliveroo’ because that club seems to be everywhere lately?” I thought I was funny but it took me a long second to realise that outlaw bikies don’t joke much about their clubs.

At another such christening, a father greeted me reservedly, giving me the impression that he only reluctantly agreed to this religious moment. Within minutes he said, “You know I don’t believe any of this sh**!” Once again, I’m confronted with a character that thinks I’ll have some interest in the content of his cognitive propositions. I said, “Mate, I’m only interested to know if you believe in existence.” “What existence?” he asked. “Well, I’m interested if you really know that it makes a big difference whether you’re here or not.” I didn’t know at the time, but prolonged drug abuse had strained this marriage to breaking point. He spat some words at me. “How could that matter?” His question was confronting, and I was reminded of my aptitude for getting myself into a corner that I’d have been wiser to avoid. There is no argument to counter a, “Life is not worth living” statement. This fellow was well dressed, driving a nice car, living in a nice suburb, and broken. I said something like, “I’m...[read more]

Dear Inner Circle,

Yesterday a group of business people asked me about resilience. The questions they asked made it increasingly clear that they thought that somewhere in everyone’s psychology lives a box that contains a quantity of resilience. “How do you keep the glass half full?” “How do you keep the passion for your mission alive and healthy?” “Don’t you get tired?” All these questions presuppose much the same thing. Some people are so certain of my inner resilience box that on occasion I get invited to write a book on the subject. Alas, the misunderstanding is profound. Our mission doesn’t live in me or in anyone else. It lives between us. There are times when I speak passionately about our mission of creating community with no 'us and them’, but they are only empty words unless the mission lives between us. The good news is that when the mission lives, I find myself to be necessary, significant and not central. Every time I flourish as a human being, whether in the context of my marriage, family, workplace or anywhere else, I find myself to be necessary, significant and not central. The joy that is unleashed by knowing it’s not all about me is all the energy I need. And it's all the energy we need at Wayside to keep doing what we do. When an occasion strikes where I think it’s all about me, I need to stand back enough to allow the mission to take the central position and to recognise it as living - not within, but between us.

Our mission is not difficult but it is counter-cultural. The last thing Wayside or any other workplace needs is people who have loads of patience for visitors or customers and loads of judgement for the colleagues working at their side. Religions everywhere have people who wish to love and serve the whole world, but have an intense dislike for their brother and sister serving beside them.

Keep reading here.

Dear Inner Circle,

This team at Wayside form one massive, gleaming tower of weakness. We’re all of us damaged people but our mission of creating community with no ‘us and them’ lives between us rather than in any one of us. For this reason, we embrace our mistakes as occasions of learning and we fight our battles with a feather of gentleness and a dose of humour.