Convertsation (the spelling mistake that stays)

So. We are talking about Evangelism. Which is one of my more favourite things about Christianity. Not in a really condescending way or like, I am so good at being a confident Christian, I just enjoy having a totally ace, eternity spanning reason for talking to people I don't know. It justifies (wrongly) in my head the idea of being forward and chatty and my failings in the area fall far more in the sensitivity and boundary crossing camp.

Which doesn't matter too much with drunk people.

I haven't had as many opps to prostheletise (lol) recently as I did perhaps in GVA. It stands to reason that things come in seasons and I know that God plans different tasks for different times, not to mention rest. Often though, I associate being aware of His "set-ups" with being more tuned in with His will and I know that when I have a more submissive attitude then I end up in "God" scenarios like they're going out of fashion. It is just a matter of opening my eyes and being willing to compromise my own objectives.

[Aside: Taking this in the context of sustainable is hard, I struggle with the prospect of missed opportunity and not being up to task. Even sitting on a train for examples confuses me - am I supposed to constantly be in prayer for those around me; or just prayer in general; or read my bible; or some other Christian book; or some non-Christian book; or start a conversation; or listen to music... or play on my phone? The perfectionist in me struggles, fails, then gets guilty. The extremist in me burns out then crashes horrendously.]

Today I went to meet up with another pal from Genf. A lovely boy, John Mark (you may recall him? Left in Feb...) from the deep South of the U.S of A and I thoroughly enjoyed some good chat, visiting old haunts (quite lit places with ghosts of the past) in London and going to a BBQ rib house after which I spent the whole rest of the eve with a mandatory toothpick in my mouth! Fun times.

I then made it to Liverpool St Station with enough time to catch the 2318 train home and sat there reading my bible - I am adamant I will get to the end of Genesis by the end of this week. Whereupon a 60something gent sits next to me and comments that it is something you would not normally see at that time of night, in the station, particularly given my nose ring (a relatively new addition of which some of you may not be aware I realise). It was a classic and perfect opener and I don't doubt that his inclination to talk about my faith, buy me herbal tea and laugh at my jokes was a mixture of a deep rooted desire to find the truth... and a less deeprooted desire to enjoy my company while he waited for his train!

Needless to say I felt like walking away from this was just not in line with my duty, there was some good old fashion sowing and/or reaping to be done. I don't really know how I did at that, I didn't feel very convincing and he was, it turned out, an ex-lecturer. Had the whole "logic" thing working against him and I haven't taken that course yet... But I stay 'til the 0003 train and it was cool enough. The thing is it don't matter what I say really, God is the one that works in peoples' hearts, and there was something FABULOUS and out of both our control that happened.

A beggar came along and asked for 20p. I have, I think, made some small comment on how I feel about this. I "generously" gave him 50p and he said bless you (and he is right, it is far a more blessing for me to give that for him to receive). Following this, I turned to Tim (my new friend) and was like OK, let's hear it. I expected a bit of a "you know what they do with that" which I would have responded with "well, I need to show them love" which he would no doubt have pointed out as some kind of flaw in my faith.

As it happened he asked how much I gave, pulled out some loose change, offered me a pound and said would you please take this so I can tell you what I think of begging.

I was confused, bemused and took it to humour him. I thought it was some kind of analogy and accepted whereupon he explained, quite jollily, tipsily and endearingly, that times have changed; followed by something about being in Cairo. He was literally telling me stuff about his experiences of begging and it turned out the £1 was simply to buy my listening! Paying me to tolerate him was his words.

Lol. Talk about a set up. I then went through my list of thoughts - a few comments on not making an excuse to be dismissive, right to choose, their needs being greater, treating them as equal etc etc. Then, as my grand finale, I added that I believed when I gave to others that God gave far more back to me!! Jokes, he had gone and proven this without meaning to and realised it sufficiently that he wanted his pound back. Apparently it was not his intention to provide supporting evidence for my beliefs...!

I thought it was cool. God is pretty funny sometimes.

It all might sound really self-involved, like I think I have this great commission; but I do. Its called The Great Commission and is not exclusive to me. I think it is ironic that the more I have a grip on humility the more wow I get in my own life (and the inverse is also true obviously). Talk about a vicious cycle!

And so it begins again...

Love and Lies in the COOP Carpark

I am learning Romanian.

Luckily it is quite similar to French. I hope to be able to have a bit of a conversation with my fat friend who sits outside the COOP sometime before I leave.

I know it sounds pretty judgmental, but when she tells me she has 4 children and a dead husband it sounds so convenient. I mean, that's a great testimony for a beggar lady, right? Perfect sob story. OK, that last paragraph sound terrible and it was mostly designed to shock. My point here is, apart from the fact that I am a bit of a bitch and too tired to know if this is pushing the boundaries too much, I don't tend to believe people that are asking me for money on the street.

But, the thing is. It is OK if they lie. Infact, it is OK if anyone lies to me. I am not going to mind and my default position will probably be to believe you even if it is ridiculous. I don't mind the fact that I am gullible. The decision I have come to is this: as long as it won't break my heart I don't have a problem believing you. That extends to personal safety I suppose but is far less day to day. The point is, I don't have time or right to judge and question everything someone says. If it is important I will do so, else feel free. My hope is to try and show love to people despite whether they are being honest or kind of anything else like that. So feel free to scam me out of money or time or anything else I don't value spiritually. I will still feel like I was doing my bit as Jesus-the-first-time-round and you can take the crap when He comes back.

Plus, I kinda feel like if I learn Romanian they will find it harder to lie to me. I mean, everyone has a level of guilt right? I am just trying to tap into their; play them at their own game!

Seriously though. Beggars are people too and I am trying to get past my capitalist middle class attitude that gets pissed at a system that will never really shit on my affluent parade 'cause I will never really have any problems in that area and if I did, maybe I'd appreciate the help. I think that we are all identical particles put into different forcefields and shooting in a multitude of directions. Who knows what their next resultant force will be...?

Hobophobia

So, that could not be more politically incorrect or judgmental. In fact, it may not even be relevant to what I wanted to say but I like how it sounds so it stays.

There are quite a few homeless people (or at least those scruffier than me) in Geneva and particularly around Cornavin one can feel like they are running a bit of a gauntlet. After a few conversations on the topic and questioning of my own view point I have rather recently decided to embrace a culture of giving and just say Yes. I mean, there are many arguments for why not but I sort of reasoned it down to the fact that they are poor and sad and want money, I have some to spare and think that showing love to fellow man is a nice thing to do. It's not really my money anyway (yes, I am the ring leader of an organised crime agency, hence location...). Plus who am I to say what they should do with it, if you lived on the streets maybe you would want to get drunk too. [Please feel free to fervently bash my flippancy I can happily debate this for hours.]

Anyway, it is easy enough for me to fish in my small change purse, dole out the silvers without missing the cash and the benefit is a warm fuzzy feeling. I'm not trying to buy a smile (which is good 'cause seldom does it get one) but it is pointless to try and deny that when we do things for other people it does feel nice.

I quite like local beggars too, they are a characteristic of a place and evoke a feeling of familiarity in the same way that the jet d'eau or giant floating football do; but today something so extraordinary happened that I did pause and say hang on mate, there is a line and that's just rude. Fortunately it was so hilarious that it leaves me with no lasting grudge.

I was walking to town to buy a train ticket ('citing but another story) and was in the park just behind the station when this guy on a bench asks me for some money. I am a bit rubbish in these situations and often pull the "I don't understand but I do care card": smile, thrust a token amount of jangly their way and wish them a good day (Queen of Glib). To my shock and hindsighted delight, the gentleman reviewed what I had offered (admittedly not that much, maybe only about 1CHF altogether) and returned to me the 5cent pieces.

Maybe he felt patronised; like the performers in Covent Garden who announce that this is their art so please don't bother if you aren't giving a pound or more. Sitting on that bench may not look like fire juggling but he sure had perfected it.

The ironic thing is, the week before when I had lost my card (turned up in the COOP btw, when I thought to ask for it 10 days later, which was nice) I had collected all my coinage together. Those 5cent pieces were what I had considered my salvation when I was temporarily without income.

So I guess it goes to show that no matter your 'status' in life you can still sit firmly above it. I'm not sure I am the hobophobe in this situation. Maybe Swiss vagabonds are just a little bit weller-to-do.