Dancing Without Shoes in the Cold

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Last night I went with a local church team in Port Elizabeth to an open park in the old part of the city to meet some homeless people and their children. There were about 60 people and 25 children. Chairs were put out, and a little service was held. Welcome, worship, reading of the Word (Psalm 17), a testimony and a short presentation and invitation to the Gospel. With the Church across the road’s doors closed, we were in a Cathedral under the stars. The bitter cold did not stop the children, even those who had no shoes, from dancing. Their beautiful faces beaming hope and joy. On the sides, in the shadows, weary adults sat. They have heard it all before. Unmoved, they were impatient to eat and go and secure their place to sleep. But one man who had been in prison came and took the mike and like a poet poured out his heart, addressing heaven as he lamented his pain. Prayed for in a huddle, I sensed that his demons, his loss, his grief was silenced for a while and that the Gospel like gentle rain was falling on him. One day He truly will be free. After everyone had eaten and the serving team cleaned up, I watched as one happy boy collected a cardboard box on the instruction of his mother who was pushing their trolley carrying all their possessions. I watched as they disappeared around the corner into the night. I was left feeling, once again, that in the ordinary is the extraordinary and in the simple the sacred.

Dancing Without Shoes in the Cold

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