Friday night was an experience for me. RJ, a good friend, had organised a gig at The Wine Cellar and Whammy Bar to fund-raise for TEAR Fund’s work of supporting  a small Baptist church in Gaza as they do their best to help those around them in need. It’s an issue RJ is passionate about and I’ve got a lot of respect for how he’s outworking that. Displacement had been organised as a night with bands, artists, silent auctions for artwork, giveaways, and a chance for me to share about my experience of the Holy Land and what TEAR Fund is doing. I’ve got to be honest and say I was a little apprehensive going into it mostly due to tiredness and hunger (it was the last day of Live Below the Line and also my traditional fasting day), but I had also made a conscious decision to wear my clerical collar, which meant that I wasn’t going to have a chance to blend in, rather I was going to be the very visible Church minister in a place where we wouldn’t normally be seen.

I try to follow the approach of Dorothy Day when it comes to speaking invites. She worked to try and say yes to any speaking invite she got because she recognised the privilege of being asked. I agree, no matter how big or small the group is, the fact that people would ask to hear what we’ve got to say is an honour and not something to be taken lightly. It doesn’t always work out that I can say yes and sometimes that’s because I need to factor in time I should spend with my family and because, let’s be honest, I’m terrible at organising myself, but I do my best. Inevitably, the bulk of my invites are churches and church conferences where I most naturally fit – going on a pilgrimage with other followers of Jesus as we all work out what it really means to follow him in our world. Displacement was something very different.

I didn’t know what to expect. I had heard that Whammy Bar was dark and underground – underground literally, and in the scene it’s a part of. So I checked out websites and pictures to get a feel for the place. We turned up on Friday and the first thought I had was ‘oh no, what have I gotten myself into!’ Don’t get me wrong – while it’s not the sort of place where I would normally hang out these days (and there might be something I’m missing because of that) – if I had opted not to wear the clerical collar, while I still may have been a little out of place, I could have blended in ok. The place is rough, but in a way that screams of a rich, underground, often hardcore, music scene. I got ushered through the first section of The Wine Cellar and that felt perfectly normal. Then we went into a more run-down area with a place for bands to play along with some really old and much loved couches – a space that’s clearly well used and I felt like it was going to be ok. Then I moved through a bit of a maze into the main part of Whammy Bar. It’s dark, run-down and truly underground in all senses of the word… that’s when I got nervous.

Set-up began. The bar was stocked, bands came in for sound checking and I spent time chatting with a few. Some of them I knew and some were interested in the clerical collar so I answered questions with them and heard a little of their stories. They were all amazing, diverse, colourful, and rich people.

Once we hit the opening time people started trickling in and they kept coming. RJ’s organisation of the night had been immense. The bands started playing and the night got into its rhythm. As I watched who was coming in I got really nervous about my speaking slot. I had the sense that I, the guy in the clerical collar, was going to be an inconvenience talking about my experiences in the Holy Land and TEAR Fund’s work, in the middle of this line up of great kiwi bands. One of these people clearly wasn’t like the others, and it was me. My introversion was kicking in big-time.

But I pushed myself. I spent time enjoying the music, chatting with people and getting a feel for how I should approach my few minutes with the mic. The band before me finished and it was my turn. I started talking, expecting people to leave the room, ignore me and keep chatting or, at worst, try and verbally move me on. What I got was the exact opposite.

To my shame I had completely underestimated the place I was in and the people I was with. They were fully engaged and it took less work to connect with them than it often takes with a church audience who are seasoned at listening to people speak every single week. Many on Friday night were clearly captivated – and they were quietly vocal about it, affirming what I was saying like a mild Pentecostal audience. They ‘got it’ beautifully and they got my position on the issue well, without me having to cut through all the baggage that often comes with Christian views on the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. I was truly humbled.

My talk finished and it was followed up by a string of amazing conversations. People got it. We chatted, they enjoyed the bands, they bought the art that was being auctioned, they paid good money for the vinyls one of the bands (Mice on Stilts) had generously donated. I was truly blown away. Rohan, who runs the place, had donated the venues for free. Eighthirty Coffee Roasters had donated stacks of coffee to giveaway. All the bands had given of their time and talent freely as had the artists who had grappled with the idea of displacement and then translated that into prints that they sold. RJ had pulled off something phenomenal. My clerical collar made me stand out, but rather than making me a pariah, it gave me license to have some solid conversations, not just about TEAR Fund and what we do, but about my faith. I found a lot of like minded people and kindred spirits on justice issues and there were a number of people of faith there. God put me in my place and taught me some big lessons that night.

He reminded me that he is everywhere and he’s active. He’s active in all places and all people, as strange as that may sound in some circumstances. I’m a Wesleyan who firmly believes in prevenient grace – the grace of God that is active in every person. It means that I’m not some holier than thou person who does mission by taking my special connection with God into Godless places, but rather, I’m a humble servant living in the story of God, moving into places where he’s already active and I’m just hoping to connect with that activity. You see, I may have felt like a fish out of water and I have no doubt that I said the wrong things more than once, but it was very apparent that God was there in the place and the people on Friday night – Jesus was embodied in ways I couldn’t have expected. Sure, some stuff would have offended a sanitized Christian culture, but that place was bursting at the seams with the embodiment of a good God who is active in a broken world, and my clerical collar helped me connect with some of that.

On Friday morning I had gotten up at 5am already feeling hungry and tired. I rolled into bed at 3am on Saturday morning having only had one meal in that 23 hour period and I felt emotional, not because I was tired and hungry but because I was grateful for all that had just happened – the place, the people, the whole thing. Their generosity saw over $3,000 raised for people in need. I’ll go back to The Wine Cellar, Whammy Bar and any and all of those people whenever they’ll be gracious enough to have me, and I’ll gladly serve them any way I can. I’m not sure how many of those involved will read this, but I want to offer my true and heartfelt thanks to everyone who was a part of that night in any way. You were generous in support of TEAR Fund’s work, but you also humbled me. You taught me plenty and reminded me a lot about who I am, helped me re-grasp where I’ve come from, and who I want to be. In you I also found a bit more of God. Thank you.