Years ago, a well meaning person thrust a collecting box in my hand and said,
"Just the job for you!
Can you collect money for the Church Army in the town centre on Saturday?
Before I had gathered my wits enough to decline this unexpected opportunity,
they had moved on, leaving me with a collection tin and a feeling of impending doom.
An obedient Anglican, I duly went and stood in the town centre.
I didn't know the charity.
The shoppers didn't know the charity.
People didn't give,
or if they did it was because they felt sorry for me.
I was a flag day failure.
I handed my pot in
and explained I hadn't done very well.
They said that it didn't matter..
that taking part and trying was more important.
And deep inside,
I vowed never,
to collect again.
A couple of years later, I tried collecting for Christian Aid,
because I thought I should.
Some people gave.
Others were rude.
But I felt I compelled to take part.
So I knocked on the doors,
and hoped the people would be nice,
and not blame me for their life,
the state of the world
or the disastrous government policies.
Just a few years ago
I heard someone say
that Christian Aid week was ONE opportunity in the year
for Christians to knock on the front door of every home in the country.
My heart was changed.
I do not mind if they give 2p, or don't give at all.
I am knocking on their doors,
and inviting them to join in with the work of the church,
here on earth.
I am a volunteer who understands, what they am doing,
and as I walk up each path and knock each door,
and notice how the neighbourhood has change over the year,
I will pray for the people who live in that home,
for it is for them,
as well as those on the other side of the globe,
that I am sent.