Myself and my band had the privilege of being part of Merseyfest in August. The memories that stick out are not playing on the main stage as 25,000 people streamed through the park or entertaining the campers late at night, but the small gigs we were part of on the weekday evenings with local churches. Phenomenal local church folks had been busting their guts for weeks and months to let their local communities know that they were loved. You didn't have to be there for long to realise how much prayer and elbow grease had gone into these events. Whether it was bouncy castles or beautifully decorated tables there was much evidence of folks going the extra mile.
Our first night was at Wirral Christian Centre which along with Wirral Youth For Christ serves some pretty deprived areas on that side of the Mersey. I really struggled while telling some of the emotive stories that I normally tell during a gig as I could just feel this wave of brokenness coming at me from the folks assembled - single mums, homeless folks, people who had just wandered in straight off the street, rowdy 8 year old Everton and Liverpool fans proclaiming their allegiances with facepaints (sitting side by side!), and scared looking 80 year olds. Quite a crew for an andyflan gig, but a very real crew. We had some banter during the early sections with some of the kids coming up on stage to sing "You're beautiful" at top of their voices. The prize for the first person on stage was a CD, but all the kids that piled up decided that they deserved a CD, so my pile was quickly disposed of! What can you do when you have a guitar hung round your neck, and are stuck behind a mic stand?
It felt as if we had really connected, as people began to hang on every word, spoken or sung, and you just knew God was communicating with people. It felt as if healing was flowing to people in abundance. The song that has had most impact on folks in the last 9 months is one called "Why does life have to be this fragile?" that I wrote about some kids we met in India who died in the Tsunami. That night it hit home especially powerfully. There were plenty of tears in eyes as folks met a God who knew of their own personal suffering and actually chose to suffer on their behalf.
One lady came up to me afterwards and explained that my song about the prodigal son had hit very close to home. She had had no contact whatsoever with her son for many years. She had been praying and praying that her son would come home for Christmas. I won't explain all the heart-breaking details, but there was God ministering right into the midst of a pain that I couldn't even guess at.
