Co-ordinator Val Dodsworth (pictured left) has played a major role in this success. It’s a lot of work keeping the show on the road, providing training to new recruits and facilitating the steady expansion into new areas. As with all the volunteers, the work is an exercise in faith which, for Val, has led her to rely more and more on God’s strength: “Because I know how much hangs on me,” she says, “it’s got to hang on God.”
When someone works a shift in the Norwich team they’re pretty much giving up their whole weekend – ordinary people, with families and a job to go to on Monday morning. “Often people on the street ask why they’re doing it”, says Val. “Do you get paid? they ask. And the answer is: no, they’re doing it to serve.”
So off they go at around 10pm, with their Street Pastor bomber-jackets marking them out as a distinct presence in the frequently chaotic and turbulent environment of Norwich at night. The uniform is significant in a number of ways. For many young post-Christians the word ‘pastor’ is unfamiliar; though they may have a vague idea it’s something to do with church and God. According to Street Pastor James, the teams are aware they represent something more than any single individual. “Whatever impact we’re having, that’s giving them an impression of what a Street Pastor is like, and then that’s giving them an impression of what a Christian is like.”
Bishop Malkhaz, visiting from the Baptist Church in Georgia, spent a night with the Street Pastors wearing his formal Bishop’s regalia. “He was pretty chilled out,” says James. “A few people were saying is that Gandalf? [Bishop Malkhaz has a very long, grey beard!]. Someone else said he was Osama bin Laden!” The Bishop talked to lots of people, discussing world issues with a young woman outside a pizza place, and chatting with some homeless men looking for a place to stay. “He got a lot of respect,” says James.
Each pastor is equipped with a rucksack carrying an arsenal of tools for this unique ministry. The standard issue is: woollens for homeless people; chocolates to defuse volatile situations; flasks of hot coffee; and... flip-flops. Everyone finds the flip-flop thing amusing, and it does have a comical dimension to it. But it’s also a tangible means of manifesting Christ-like servant-hood.
After a few drinks, young women often take off their shoes because they can’t keep their balance in high-heels. “We’ve seen some nasty cut feet because of people stepping on glass,” says James. The first time he handed out flip-flops was to a woman talking on her mobile phone. She was puzzled about what he was trying to do and initially quite suspicious. When he placed the flip-flops on her feet she was overwhelmed. “Oh, that’s fantastic!” she said, and told her friend on the mobile what had just happened.
Commenting on the role of the flip-flop, Val said, “It brings to mind Christ washing the feet of the disciples.” If I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, says Jesus in John’s gospel, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. Jesus is clear to emphasise it’s not enough to know these things in principle, it’s about putting it into action: you are blessed, he says, if you do these things. (John 13: 14-17).
Perhaps that helps explain the extraordinary growth and blossoming of the work – through it blessings are poured down, not just on the recipients, but also on those who minister, and this is manifested as the teams grow in confidence and in personal faith. The ripple effect of this rumour of love touches people from other agencies such as the police who are constantly witnessing the effects of the work. On more than one occasion, says James, they have remarked on how volatile situations have been defused by the presence of the pastors, and how the work of the intercession team seems to make a real and immediate impact.
The inter-denominational aspect of the ministry often impresses people, helping to counter the negative ideas many people have of the church as inward-looking and factional. And, while it’s not about preaching, sometimes it’s appropriate for the pastors to get involved in conversations about spiritual matters.
“When Jesus ministered to people,” says James, “he went to where they were and he was doing stuff to sort out their actual needs.” The night-time offers a curious and unique opportunity to meet people where they are. Sometimes dis-inhibited by drink and drugs, young people are often in an extremely vulnerable state. “It’s dangerous out there,” says Margaret, one of the intercessors (pictured left with her team). “And alcohol lowers your defences. We want to see Norwich safe, we want to see people on the streets safe.”
Sometimes what’s called for is a listening ear. James describes the night he spent an hour listening to a young woman whose friend had recently committed suicide. “Sometimes they don’t have anyone to listen,” he says. On the same night there was a guy being aggressive and causing trouble and, when they realised he was upset because his gran had just died, the police asked the Street Pastors to talk to him. They eventually got him safely home in a taxi.
After each session the team leader writes up a report of the night’s activities. Some of the entries are humorous: “We encountered a group of guys who had discovered some convenient exterior urinals cunningly disguised as plant tubs”. Others report countless unhappy incidents: “We found two girls down a side street; one was upset and the other aggressive. We managed to separate them and got the first woman to the SOS bus as she was hyperventilating.” The reports repeatedly record occasions where the Street Pastors have phoned in about a situation that looks about to turn nasty and then, once the intercessors have prayed, it often just breaks up. “It increases people’s faith that God is with them and that he does respond to prayer,” says Val.
“Just as you did it to the least of my brethren, you did it to me” (Matthew 25:39). It would seem that the least of Jesus’ brethren are often to be found on the streets of Norwich in the early hours, searching for meaning in the highs of night-life and, in varying states of helplessness and need, seeking refuge and solace. The Street Pastors are right there on the front-line: working together as a community; quietly bearing witness to the power of prayer and compassionate gospel action; and offering a common-sense presence and practical hope.
It’s a kind of Cinderella story - Christ is the Prince represented by the Street Pastor, the glass slipper is a flip-flop, and every drunk and distressed young woman is really a princess in disguise. 