Open Air: Volunteers Of The Afternoon

It’s a sunny summer’s day, with a warm wind sending fleecy clouds across the blue sky above us, reminding me that we haven’t had as many wet afternoons as usual this year. That’s good! My small OA bible hasn’t had to be dried out on the radiator as often, which means it’s lasting longer than previous ones.

Our camera is set at an unusual angle, showing the view to the left of Stephen, with my own bible, a box of free bibles, a notebook, and a bundle of tracts, all balanced on the junction box by the big lamppost. A technician is in the Atmosphere Monitoring Station, so we can’t put the GoPro on the door handle as we usually do.

And who is the lady handing out tracts on our left? It’s either Lorna or Veronica. Her companion - either Veronica or Lorna - is over by Superdrug, where Janette usually takes her stand. The two ladies approached me earlier on, after we’d said hello to our friend R. and to the young man with the gold tooth (the one who was in the JW’s for a while but is now back on track). “We heard you preaching here last Wednesday, and we hadn’t time to stay, but we’ve come to help today.”

It was a kind offer, so I let them take a look at our Statement Of Faith first of all, just to make sure that we were all singing from the same hymn sheet, so to speak. They were happy with it, so I handed over a bundle of tracts and they set to work with a will! It’s encouraging, especially since there is no sign of either Janette or Peter, as yet.

Stephen is already well into his “What Is The Bible All About?” address, and the lady on my left (Lorna?) has just been caught up in an earnest conversation with a bearded bloke in an Adidas tracksuit. A grey-haired gent in overalls sits back on a bollard and listens to Stephen, while a few more casual listeners stand at a distance.

There are plenty of vans about, and now an enormous lorry is manoeuvring cautiously between bollards and lampposts and pedestrians, beeping as it reverses and sounding its horn as it goes forwards. Two C of E clergymen in voluminous vestments pass us by, as though in procession along the aisle of some great cathedral: noses in the air, ignoring all around them. Veronica (or is it Lorna?) is talking to a woman wrapped in a black cloak who was wandering around the pedestrianised area earlier on. And there is Peter, boards on already! I’m pleased to see him.

It’s warmer now, and I wish I’d put my hat on, but it’s still in my case, and I don’t want to get in Stephen’s way while retrieving it. The man in the tracksuit puts an arm around Lorna, then departs. A minute later, and a gent of vaguely Rastafarian appearance takes his place. “These ladies seem to know what they’re doing,” I think. “Jehovahjireh”, as the KJV has it - or, “The LORD will provide”, if you prefer the ESV. Most encouraging!

The elderly lady who tried to give me money the other week comes to me and tries again, much to my chagrin. After years of saying “We don’t take money from anyone”, I cannot now take her handful of silver - and yet she wants to help out in the only way she knows how. And then it strikes me that Lorna or Veronica might take it on behalf of their own church, and so I send her to offer it to one of them.

Our friendly technician, the one with the wire-rimmed glasses and the whimsically wispy haircut, emerges from the dark interior of the AMS at last. As he closes the heavy wooden door, it creaks and grinds like the door of an ancient dungeon. I step over to retrieve our camera and restore it to its normal position, from where we get a panoramic view of the whole of the pedestrianised area in front of us.

As soon as Stephen closes, I ready myself, pick up my bible and pray for a moment, then launch into “What Happens When We Die?”, beginning with some of the things that I’ve heard said as loved ones - friends or family - pass out of this life on earth. You can take it from there, I’m sure.

Our little old lady stops to tell me that Lorna has taken the money from her, for her own church. I’m happy with that, and so is she. If ever I have to preach on “the widow’s mite” as it’s often called, I have an illustration all ready to hand. Then, scanning the passing throng as I go on, I note that I have an audience of exactly one - a lady in a light orange top and black pants - and she’s some way away, just between Superdrug and McDonald’s. Nevertheless, I press on as though I had a crowd of thousands in front of me.

The wind whips up, our poster flaps on its moorings, and my unbuttoned shirt balloons out behind me. Trams and vans are more frequent now, and the ambient noise level is rising rapidly. “God is angry with the wicked every day” is the burden of the first part of my address, followed by “Why is Britain no longer Great?” and concluding with Christ’s offering of Himself, and our response to Him as a consequence. It’s reasonably eloquent, and heartfelt - but it’s one of those days when it appears that few have ears or the desire to hear.

I end on the offer of free bibles, noting Veronica in conversation with a middle-aged couple in sports clothes, though neither of them look like Olympic prospects. Still, it develops into a good, lengthy discussion as I take up my position to resume tracting.

The crowd thins, and the sky is overcast by now, but the passing throng are definitely going for the “here comes summer” look - and who can blame them? Angry shouts are heard from the street market stalls to our right, but the dispute doesn’t spill over to where we are, thankfully.

Then there are more shouts. A group of black youths in football gear are running this way and that with a pair of miniature nets, setting them down for a quick kickabout, with much pantomiming and horseplay, then rushing off to another spot and repeating the process, and then… But it’s entirely unclear to me what it’s all in aid of. It’s one of those mysteries that only Arthur C. Clarke could explain - but he’s dead now, so that’s not much use to us…

Scooters and bicycles whizz through the crowds, vans thread their way through more cautiously, and trams rattle round the bends every few minutes. My tracts are going well for once, and people are asking for them as they so often do with Peter. And then I take a minute to chat to Lorna and Veronica in turn, just to make sure that they’re happy with everything. They are. The footballers set up nearby and cause a commotion for a while, but they’re soon off in search of - well, whatever it is that they’re looking for.

And so it goes. When I take over for the last lap, Lorna and Veronica come over to bid farewell, and we thank them for their sterling efforts. Perhaps they’ll be able to come again? Quite possibly, they say. I trust that they will.

I’ve just begun on the topic of the only cure for the sin-sick soul and a sinful society, and…

And our ageing GoPro cuts out! So I have little to say about the last twenty minutes or so, because without the video my memory is just not up to the task, alas. However, in the Arndale afterwards, Peter and Stephen and I all agree that it’s been a profitable afternoon - so much so, that we’re already looking forward to our next Wednesday together.

If you’re free, and our Lord puts it upon your heart to do so, you are warmly invited to join us next week in Manchester at 12.30pm, on the edge of Piccadilly Gardens, just opposite Superdrug. The forecast is for fine weather once more, so I will be packing my sun hat along with the rest of our equipment.

Please pray, if you would, for all those who heard something of the gospel, or who were engaged in conversation, or who took away literature during that warm and windy Wednesday afternoon last week. Many thanks!

Every blessing!