Recently I've been looking back to my Liverpool days. In my current context of urban theology it seems crazy and amazing to me that ten years ago I was walking the back streets of Liverpool city centre and finding God in every step.
On my breaks from work I would walk and pray, taking in the textures, sights, sounds and smells of the city and falling in love with it and with the God that I found there. In the two and a half years I was there I dreamed for that city, but most of all I dreamed for the human community I encountered; the homeless, the clubbers, the drug addicts and the shoppers. Those above and below the waterline of the city, some surfing some drowning.
I readily admit my naivete at the time; I was still coming to terms with myself and my engagement with the people I met was instinctive rather than strategic, I had no language, no 'theological framework' for my experience - just me and Jesus.
Recently God has been revealing his passion for human community to me again in a new context. My response has been one of pain and awe in the face of such massive need and human chaos; a response which God has consistently met with a gentle reassurance of his sovereignty, his all sufficiency which surrounds every need waiting to be unleashed.
The nature of God makes every need a glory, every weakness an affirmation of his strength. Again I find myself needing to come to terms with a new me and find a new engagement with my community; its an exciting new adventure but it also carries a sweet nostalgia. The pubs in Openshaw smell of the same stale beer in the mornings as Liverpool's Slater St, and it's sourness will always be to me the fragrance of God's presence.
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