Yesterday…
…At Our Singing For Health group we sung ‘Knees up Mother Brown’. Originally, thought to be a London East-End pub song from the early 1800s, it contrasts the boisterous energetic ‘knee’s up’ dancing of the working class, contrasts with the refined dancing of the aristocrats.
It contained sexual innuendo, reference to Queen Victoria’s alleged romantic relationship with her servant, John Brown, and the line, ‘If I catch you bending, I’ll saw your legs right off…’
People come together in the pub united by a bawdy, naughty, boisterous song.
…Was the opening ceremony of the Paris Olympic games with the iconic five interlinked Olympic rings symbolising the five continents coming together in sporting competition… over two hundred nations from across the world competing without discrimination, with respect, friendship and mutual understanding.
In the opening ceremony there was reference to John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’:
You may say I’m a dreamer
But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us
And the world will live as one
…I read about the GrandFriends project. Our local paper described children from Brisley Primary School visiting Woodstock Care Home at Gressenhall, near Dereham.
Naomi Daglish, the wellbeing coordinator at Woodstock, expressed her delight at the interaction’s success… ‘The smiles and happy responses from the residents were a testament to the success of the session… It felt like a very caring and positive experience for everyone involved.’
Old and young come together, invigorating the lives of the elderly, teaching the children invaluable lessons in respect, empathy and cheerful conversation.
…Remembering Jesus’ words: ‘A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.’
Dreaming of unity… enjoying the enthusiasm and abandon of a singing knees-up, embracing the size and scope of the world-wide Olympic movement, lived out in the daily ordinariness of a care-home visit, motivated by Jesus’ ideal of love.
malcolmsmusings.org 
Amen, amen!
At the risk of seeming irrelevant, allow me to tell something of a short story. (I’ve found reason to recite it a few times recently, and this comes close (in my mind) to being another good time for it.)
Two decades back, I began branching out into street ministry. In order to make a long story medium, I will cut off several important details about that which would help make better sense of it, but I don’t have time, and you didn’t ask. So, here’s the short chop shop version:
My partner on the streets, Special Agent D (SAD), and I made friends with some hookers and drug addicts among our many adventures. (We stopped a murder one night with a prayer service, but that too is another story.) Point being, we were up to our necks in adventure.
We had answered a call to the mean streets, the wild side, the dark side, the… the… well, as Guns n Roses called it… Welcome to the Jungle, Baby, you’re gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
It’s a circus out there. But following God’s lead, it’s far mor interesting than what you read in the papers or see on your TV news.
We weren’t there judging people, but befriending them, celebrating the image of God placed in them by our Creator.
Eventually, after many months on the streets holding a Midnight Communion prayer service on an empty log amid the riffraff, a couple hookers mentioned to SAD and I there was a new drug dealer in the hood. He was a scary guy. His name was “Blue.”
Blue.
Hmmm….
Okay, this next part is a bit about SAD.
SAD is a little more conventional as ministers go than I am. Not a lot, but some. And he had his finger in several different ministry pies besides the streets. I was ALL IN, but he was part time. And one of the groups he met with was a small circle of widow ladies from the nearby Methodist church. (I met them one time as a visitor tagging along with SAD, but I didn’t really know them well.) But they were OLD WIDOW ladies who met for prayer and mutual support.
To my mind, I thought that was… hmmm… NICE. Sure, they seemed godly, and sure, they were a wealth of wisdom for young women, and all that. yada yada yada…. But functionally rather obsolete.
No?
I mean, even now as I think about them, I bet they struggled with feeling obsolete sometimes. I bet that is the main temptation the old devil has for such a group of women. Maybe not. I don’t know everything, but that is the general idea I generally always had of little, old, widow ladies.
But the next night after hitting the streets with me, SAD went to their prayer meeting. And while I am sure they were thrilled to be doted on by a middle aged man in their midst, and while I am sure he was thrilled to be doted on by a group of women, even old widow ladies, there still was the matter of prayer for which they met. And well… they quickly took interest in praying for the things SAD and I were doing too.
So, SAD told them about Blue and about how we learned of him. He was dominating the neighborhood, and people feared him. Even addicts relying on his services feared him.
And so the widow ladies prayed.
And they asked God to bring conviction into Blue’s life, to either get him in jail or get him repenting. Either way was improvement, and they prayed earnestly for this.
Then about two weeks later, SAD and I heard from our street friends that Blue was arrested and taken to jail.
Hmmm… Answered prayer? or Coincidence.
Well, of course, as a Christian, I give that credit to God. But I won’t lie. I sorta felt like it was a coincidence too.
God CAN do that. Sure. But he doesn’t generally respond to MY prayers like that. Not mine, and what are the odds of this happening again? Right?
Well…. glad you asked.
Because a month later, our friends came to us saying there was a replacement for Blue. This guy’s name was “Black.” And black filled the void, alright, and he was scary too. That’s when SAD told our street friends that he had given Blue’s name to the prayer warrior widows and they had prayed for him to find conviction one way or the other.
Let me pause here again.
I know my story sounds like I am talking about the prayers of some obsolete widow ladies. And well, that is right… sorta. But there are some important layers to this which it might take a while to see unless I point them out.
Intel.
This is divine law enforcement. No?
Think about it. SAD and I were in a particularly special place to receive intel that would be valuable to the police. WE ALSO were in an interesting position to PLANT INTEL on the streets. These exchanges, I learned as the story continues, were orchestrated from above – INCLUDING my question about whether it was coincidence (which, by the way, I never gave voice to at the time).
So, now the prayer grannies have police style intel, and SAD and I are planting divine style intel on the streets about the praying grannies.
A couple nights after that, SAD shares this story with the widow ladies who eagerly pray again, this time for Black. THEY were quickened by the experience and were likely the first to see the power in their prayers.
A couple weeks after that, Black got arrested. SAD reported to our street friends again that the widow ladies had prayed on this.
At this point, I am confronted with my lack of faith. Once? a coincidence??? Twice??? O MY GOD!
You’d think. Right?
Well, I was far more sensitive about this question the second go around. That is for sure, but it was what happened next that blew my mind.
Two weeks after Black was arrested and hauled off to jail, SAD and I began hearing from multiple sources that drug dealers all over Lubbock had heard of the praying widow ladies and now FEARED THEM! Not the cops, but the widow ladies!
They are NOT obsolete, despite the press coverage! SAD and I were in a partnership with one another, and with God. And God put us in partnership with widow ladies who never came to the streets to see, but who prayed for our work with POWER.
I hope this story blesses you. I assure you, it blesses me.
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Excellent story, Agent X. I love it. I share your cynicism sometimes., but we dismiss the power of prayer at our peril. I love it when Godly people pray – whatever their age!
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