By Steve Johnson
I will never forget this time as long as I live. If you grew up in Northampton you won't forget it either. Neither will the citizens of Northern Ireland.
It started with an ill prepared outreach from my church to one of our churches in Belfast. There was a huge mix up which led to all of us gathering in my pastor's house {we were a very small church}. Two of us, including myself were due to be in Belfast to do an outreach for them over the Easter weekend. The rain was coming down hard and we got soaked. That night, the night before we were supposed to be there we had made 'no arrangements' our end and to cap it all the church had no money {this was not unusual}. A couple in the church generously offered to pay for me and my friend to get there. The only thing was to find a way. We considered getting a coach all the way to Stranraer in Scotland and getting a boat over to Northern Ireland. Given the worsening weather conditions I'm glad that never happened. We ended up booking two seats on a Friday evening flight to Belfast from Birmingham airport which is only a couple of hours from home. On Friday we awoke to another problem.
The rain had caused the main river to burst its banks in a way probably never seen before in living memory. The infamous floods of 1997 claimed the lives of two people and many homes were ruined. We, however, oblivious to the extent of this were at the bus station wondering why so many bus services were cancelled and how we were going to get a coach out to Birmingham. Bear in mind, as a relative new convert. My faith was small. Nevertheless after some prayer we found a coach and got on. We could see out of the window as it trailed its way between St James and Spencer estate, the area I grew up in. The park and as far as we could see was covered in a huge lake of water {and it was still raining!}. The bus made it through. We trailed through a number of rural roads and passed several lakes of flood water and some flooded roads which the coach managed to navigate through {I was still praying} before pulling up at the airport.
You would have thought the worst was over but it hit me just what we had let ourselves in for as we watched the overhanging T.V monitors in the terminal. It was wall to wall news coverage of the Good Friday deadline. Since the 1970's terror had scarred the streets of Northern Ireland with numerous paramilitary groups, both republican and Loyalist responsible for the claiming of many lives. Politicians during the 80's were generally agreed there was no solution to all this. My childhood was interspersed with one news story after another of terrorist atrocities. One of the most shocking was the Brighton bombing where the Irish Republican Army succeeded in planting a bomb in the hotel where all the members of the then U.K government were staying during their party conference. They tried to wipe out the entire government. {They killed about 5 I think, I'm not sure}. A while before, there was a major unprecedented push for peace. Then President Bill Clinton gave it a lot of support and a major player in all this was U.S senator George Mitchell. The negotiations were getting seemingly nowhere and it seemed like a return to violence was inevitable. They set a deadline. A line in the sand. By Good Friday 1997 a peace deal had to be signed or it was all over and there we were sitting in the airport just hours from the deadline as British citizens about to fly into Belfast.
In hindsight of course this was a foolish time to fly out. If this deal wasn't signed then it would likely be marked by another wave of terrorism, perhaps within hours. It was night as we flew out and about 45 minutes later we landed in Northern Ireland's main airport several miles outside Belfast. Today seeing security armed with automatic weapons is expected but then you didn't normally see it. {They were there in force In Belfast airport though} We met a guy called Billy. I have to tell you about this man. His conversion was stunning. He was a member of a loyalist group in Belfast and one day became born again. Because his new found faith was incompatible with the activities of the organisation he went to the leader to resign his position. You have to realise how dangerous this is. People are not just allowed to leave. These organisations are more than happy to kill those who choose to leave. As you can understand Billy prayed that day. He knew that he might never leave that house alive but he went anyway, told the leader he had become born again and they let him go and he has never had any hassle from them since. Billy is one of the most sincere and open hearted people you could wish to meet. A man who genuinely loves people. A couple of times I've heard people ask him to share his testimony and in particular what he was involved in. He never answers that question fully but I saw pain on his face when he said he didn't want to talk about some of the things he did. {He was close to tears}. If ever you wanted an example of the grace of God at work in a man's life it was him. If you didn't know his past you would never have thought it possible. I guess that's why Billy had such a gratitude to God. Anyway, it was Billy who picked us up at the airport that dark, rainy night and it was then I realised another problem. We had to drive several miles through dark country roads to get to Belfast city. It's worth explaining something else here.
The I.R.A specialised in sudden road blocks on strategic country roads. You would be stopped by a couple of men. Even the British army had taken to transporting their soldiers by hiding them in civilian vans and lorries. An old friend of mine served in Northern Ireland and his nerves were on edge from all this. If the men who stopped the vehicle suspected what it really was they would give a subtle signal. The driver, thinking everything was O.K would be waved through upon which several paramilitaries would open fire from the bushes and riddle the vehicle with gunfire. {and here am I on one of these roads being driven at night by a former loyalist group member} The peace deal would either have been signed or was in tatters by now. As we pulled out of the 'relative' safety of the airport car park Billy put on a tape of a worship artist He often listened to. It was a guy called 'Robin Mark' I tell you I had never heard of the name before but I would never forget it. He is from Northern Ireland itself and as I sat in the front passenger seat of the car wondering what was going to happen I listened to Robin Sing, and worship God. I tell you I will never forget the experience. As I listened, every word seemed to be filled with the presence of God. I don't think I have ever felt such peace in all my life. Song after song it was the same and every worry drained away. I could feel the presence of God right there with me and I felt perfectly, completely safe. I lost track of time and strangely wished the journey wouldn't end. I can't explain it exactly. I just knew and felt God was right there. At the time as a Christian I was very cautious about such 'apparent experiences'. That previous caution just makes this all the more real to me.
The next day we found out the deal had been signed at the last minute. The relief on the streets of the city centre was palpable. There were no celebrations, just a cautious calm. Who knows how long this 'peace' would actually last. As it turns out it has lasted to this day. {14 years at the time of writing}. The outreach was an experience all by itself. We did an outdoor music event on the 'Shankhill road' which is the main loyalist stronghold in Northern Ireland. Just yards from us was an intimidating mural {there were many in Northern Ireland} featuring two hooded men with guns and the words 'lest we forget'. It was weird. Weird but special. {Not sure if that makes any sense but it does to me.} Later that day {Easter Saturday} we did an outreach on the main pedestrian shopping street in Belfast city centre. Again it was quite an experience. Large crowds stopped to hear the music {and the preaching! In England they usually walk away when we start to preach}. Once we had finished and began to cue up the next song the crowd would move on only for another large crowd to stop at start of the next song.
That evening we went to the church at Glengormley in Belfast which was situated in neutral territory between the protestant and Catholic parts of the city {'The troubles' had caused thousands to be forcibly evicted from their homes so that now there were 100% protestant controlled areas and 100% Catholic areas.} The pastor situated the church to reach out to both groups. I have to say at this point that there were only two of us running the whole evening concert. We were inexperienced, amateurish and had never done anything like this alone in our lives and yet the church treated us like we were special. {Not many are prepared to make the long trip to Northern Ireland from the mainland} The concert went surprisingly well and we spent some wonderful time with the church in the Sunday morning service the next day. The whole weekend was something I will never forget. The floods. The rain. The escape from Northampton. The tension in watching those T.V screens with wall to wall news coverage. Our time with Billy. With the church. The outreach in the city and on the Shankhill Road. What stays in my mind more than anything is the presence of God with us in that car as we drove through the dark country road and the atmosphere of worship and peace. When I got back to England one of the first things I did was find that album by Robin Mark. It's special because Northern Ireland is his home. Because it has something of the traditional feel of the place in the music but especially because ultimately the song points to God and is for His glory, not for man. Back in my school days I was known as 'the boy who never cries'. I would get bullied by older boys {on the rare occasion they could catch me} and would just laugh at them as they tried to beat me. I was a person who refused to cry. I hated tears. Now it's different, very different. Every time I listen to those songs it's hard to stop and I'm not sure I want to stop. I've rarely felt the presence and closeness of God like that night. That weekend was precious. That experience was precious. My God is precious.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4HeIXYqaSs
p.s: This is just one of several songs that touched me that night. You have to listen to every word in the song. He's clearly singing about Belfast.
Shalom.