A Cup of Water Given in My Name...

I haven't seen the inside of many police stations, but here we were at XXXXX police station, helping Mary (not her real name) make a statement. She had been involved with a couple of guys who assaulted and robbed someone in the hotel carpark. We had convinced her that she needed to make a break from this crowd, and that confession was good for the soul, and the right thing to do.

This was not your average Scripture Union children's mission - 3 weeks running a state housing commission estate youth centre holiday programme. Mary's family was not atypical - 4 brothers and sisters were state wards, a brother in a state youth detention center, an usually absent father, a mother more often in a drunken stupor than sober. On one visit to give the kids a wash and feed, the only food in the house was one can of spaghetti. Deceit and squalor were a way of life, self esteem non-existent, yet underneath the hard facade was a craving for love.

What is "The Gospel" to families like Mary's? Mary came to live with us for a while, but found a "normal straight" life difficult to cope with and ran away several times, so we drove the streets all night looking for her. She dropped in two years latter to thank us for "putting her right", and introduced her new husband and baby.

Pray for the marginalized of society and for Christians trying to minister across sub-cultural boundaries. Pray for the Mary's that pass through our lives, that they may have seen something of Jesus through us.

"Evangelism is one beggar telling another where to find food"

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