Open Air: Persons Of Interest

Whenever you approach us during an Open Air, you become a Person Of Interest, and thus under immediate surveillance - not only from the many cameras positioned high above Piccadilly Gardens, but also from our very own GoPro. This handy device serves several purposes. It lets the police know that we are recording ourselves and are thus unlikely to say anything outrageous that will render us open to prosecution; it records any evidence that we might need in the case of an attack; and it serves to remind me of all the things that happen on a Wednesday afternoon, which is handy for someone who struggles to remember what day it is.

So, what can we see of Persons Of Interest in our recording from last week?

It’s a fine and sunny day, with five of us in attendance: Janette in a chequered jacket and red headscarf, Stephen and myself in black casual clothing, Peter in a smart grey jacket - and Gareth, this week’s special guest, in a dark blue anorak, his long hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. And no, I’m not jealous… perish the thought!

It’s moderately busy as Stephen begins, with a man taking up a position leaning on a lamppost in order to hear what he has to say. He’s there long enough to empty a bottle of soft drink, during which time I give out no tracts at all, though Janette and Peter are already busy. It’s a slow start for me in this hazy sunshine, and it seems like a long interval until it’s my turn to speak.

I take off my gilet and roll up my sleeves; I say a brief prayer, and launch into The Three Great Questions Of The Human Heart - but before I can say anything of any consequence, up comes a curious old cove in a black hoodie with white paint smears all over it. His short back and sides is so badly executed that I want to say “Tell me who did it and I’ll get them for you!”

I don’t get chance. He’s leaning on one side and bending his body like a contortionist, stabbing his finger skywards and babbling on about his belief in God. “Never mind you sayin’ ‘Yer not right wi’ God!’” “But I haven’t said anything at all, yet!” He doesn’t seem to hear me. “’im up there, I’m right wi’ ’im, I’m a good person, I am, I’ll go ter ’eaven, ’cause…”

He crouches, twisting his body into a series of odd shapes, poking his bony finger this way and that. I switch off the speaker and I get a copy of “Ultimate Questions” to offer him.

He babbles on as he takes it and holds it above his head, shouting “Th’ Almighty, mi father!” And then he quietens down and walks away. But at least he leaves with an outline of the gospel in his angular hand.

And on I go, as pedestrians pass by: some for a moment, a few for a minute, the odd one for a greater length of time. Long lines of schoolchildren appear every now and then. I try to add a comment that will draw their attention without attracting controversy, e.g., “When I was young, like those young folk over there…” Then I divert from my notes for a brief gospel summary, and then I’m back on track.

At my mention of hell, a young lady passing by calls out, but I can’t catch what she says. At my request, she repeats herself. “I said, we’re already in hell!” Not one to let a moment of interaction go by, I reply: “No matter how dark and depressing your life seems to be at the moment, I can assure you that this is nothing - nothing to what hell will be like!” She doesn’t come back to me, but a curly-haired youth in a light blue windcheater over a white tee shirt and light grey joggers stops and smiles, so I go straight to a summary of the gospel again, and offer free bibles and literature, as Stephen did earlier.

As soon as Stephen takes over, I accost the young man. He’s called C., he’s cheerful and chatty, and he’s pleased to see us evangelising. He’s also a Roman Catholic, from Northern Ireland.

There are lots of ways to go from here, from blistering denunciations of Pope Leo the whatever it is as the Antichrist, to humorous anecdotes involving potpourri. But I settle for some encouraging words and a copy of Blanchard’s “Jesus: Dead Or Alive?” It depends on the personality that God has given you, and on how you ‘feel led’ at the time. And if you don’t approve, and if you can handle such situations much more effectively - well then, we want you with us next Wednesday! Come along and show us how it’s done.

We shake hands and I go back to tracting. Gareth strolls around keeping an eye on things, stepping over to talk to Janette and Peter from time to time.

A stocky young man approaches me with a very determined stride. He wears a cream-coloured baseball cap, and the face below it is flushed with rage. He takes a tract and points down Market Street. “Have you seen the state of that bloke down there?” I haven’t, and his description is too vague and unfocussed to enlighten me. It’s about some sort of false preacher and some dancing disciples and collecting money under false pretences and lots of other things that have made his blood boil.

He tells me he’s called P. and he’s a Christian and he apologises for using bad language but he’s too angry to help himself… Hmm. I note that Gareth is keeping a close eye on him, but he’s calming down now, and telling me about his injured friend. She’s got cabin fever, he says, not being able to get out of the house. I sympathise, and offer him “something for her to read” (“Ultimate Questions”) - hoping that he will read it too, of course. He thanks me and shakes my hand and goes on his way.

The GoPro has been recording yet another Person Of Interest while I was talking. It’s a young man in black clothes, including a black hoodie with the hood up, with dark glasses on and a black rucksack dangling artfully from one hand. He poses as he listens to Stephen, shifting from one stance to another as though modelling for a photographic fashion shoot. He looks sooo cool. It’s a pity that only the GoPro notices him. And then he goes, shuffle dancing away in slow motion.

As I step up to speak, I ask Stephen to tell me when my time is up. Then I begin to describe what those who have never come to Christ will have to endure, both in this world and the next. A lady pulling along a wheeled suitcase detaches herself from her party and comes over to me. She’s smartly dressed in a black coat over a striped top and black leggings. She gazes fondly at me through the tinted lenses of her expensive sunglasses. “Hello! Can I help you?” “Kreeshan?” “Er… Christian?” “Kreestian! God bless!” “And may God bless you, too.”

That makes me happy. And then it’s the last lap, and I speed up in order to come to as forceful a conclusion as I can manage. And yes, I finish on time.

Later, after we’ve packed up and prayed, we have a short time of fellowship and refreshment in the Arndale, and then it’s all over until next week… except for me, of course, staying inside on this sunny day to write this account for our supporters. But, it will be well worth while if one or two or more folk will take a minute to pray for the various Persons Of Interest encountered above.

Peter also mentioned that he’d met a young lady called A., who had been encouraged to see believers out and about, and he’d also encountered an African and an Indian gent with gospel texts on their tee shirts. Gareth mentioned that his father had slipped and fractured his wrist on holiday, alas.

We will be there next Wednesday at the usual time and in the usual place, God willing. Join us if you can, and please pray for us if our Lord puts it upon your heart to do so.

Every blessing!