Some folks became Christians, but to be honest the numbers weren't important. I will never forget sitting on the empty stage with the band after all the people and gear had gone, praying and crying for these beautiful, but broken people.
The next morning we had the privilege of singing to all the campers at the tent city who were involved in all the community projects. Each morning they got together for worship, teaching and inspiration for the day ahead. We had intended to just sing the prodigal son song, but as I was explaining to the speaker Bishop James Jones of Liverpool what kind of song would be preceding his talk, the presenter on stage mentioned that the theme of the morning was redeeming God's creation. I stopped for a moment and said "Actually perhaps it would be better to sing my song about the stars." I went on to explain to him the content of a song, and the bishop's eyes lit up. He said "Yes. Do it. In fact do both." I don't normally need an excuse to sing extra songs, but when a bishop is telling you to do it, you kind of feel you better! So we did sing "See the stars" with the accompanying visuals, and he preached a blinder and I spent the next 72 hours talking to an army of people whose passion for God's creation had been re-awoken. There was much lying out by tents staring upward apparently. I could almost feel God smiling. It highlighted for me the vital role of the minstrel that I feel is being lost from our gatherings at the moment. All music presently seems to be reserved for worship. Music is such a powerful tool for communicating truth to people in a way that words cannot. Musicians can be teachers and preachers as well as worship leaders. I'll happily travel 100 miles just to sing one song in a worship gathering or church service. Single songs can be like little depth charges that explode in people's minds and often more importantly their hearts.
That night we headed for All Saints' church, Childwall, which couldn't have provided more of a contrast to the previous night. This was leafy suburbia! The folks from the church had put on a supper for inviting friends. It felt much harder work than on the previous night, and that we were really having to fight something, so much so that the band disappeared into the backstage room to pray at every opportunity. In the second half, a crowd of "lads" who some of the team had met during the work project that afternoon landed in and made themselves at home. This involved plenty of noise, aggro and general attention-seeking behaviour! But they sat and listened to most of our 2nd set, and I went to sit near them when Roy Crowne (Youth For Christ's national director) got up to speak. I just sat praying that they would stay. It felt like any moment that they would get up and leave, and as had already happened once, once the "main man" got up to leave, everyone else would too. (A bit like Bagpuss!) They were looking around at each other constantly, obviously uncomfortable at Roy's challenging words, but somehow drawn to them as well. The "main man" got up. I thought "Nightmare. Here we go." But they didn't all leave. Some did, but crucially not all of them. And not only did they stay, but they prayed and became Christians in that place, right then and there. The rest of their mates at this point were busy getting away from the Police who had arrived because they had smashed a window in the pub across the road for good measure on departure. The younger lads weren't the only ones who made commitments either. The folks from the church were really emotional, and actually (I'm sure they wouldn't mind me saying this) a bit shocked. They were stunned that God had taken them at their word and moved into their neighbourhood and done something miraculous. Two separate members came up to me afterwards and with tears in their eyes said "Tonight has changed our church forever." Phew....
I like my job.
