Punk Monk

The conversations with the almighty; the pleading, the desire, the brokenness that is made new.

At the moment, I’m going through a book called Punk Monk by Andy Freeman and Pete Greig and it has really opened my eyes in the past few days. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been reading it for about 8-9 months now… the first bit was amazing, the second bit not so riveting and thats where I got stuck. Have you ever had one of those books? Someone tells you how fantastical it is and you just kinda seem to get bored half-way? I totally did this, and that upsets me cause I know the importance behind it. But just recently (i.e. last night) I started getting so moved by the things that were illustrated in it.

Let me give you some background on this book. I’m not sure if you know what 24-7 prayer is, but Andy and Pete basically started up ‘boiler rooms’ that initiated this concept large-scale. 24-7 prayer is ultimately as it sounds: prayer non-stop all day for 7 days. While this sounds like a monumental task, there is more than just one person doing it. You have time slots and people sign up for an hour or two that they will pray for and really have a good solid amount of time designated for God. That (again) does indeed sound like a lot, but think of all the things that man can pray for. Anyways, these ‘boiler rooms’ were equipped for this prayer (people didn’t HAVE to go to the boiler room when reporting for their allotted time slot, but it was a lovely place to go if they wanted); having paper on the walls that people could write prayers on, having music, soft lighting, art, slips of paper for ideas and motivation they get from spending time with Jesus. The like. Andy and Pete started these up in the UK, and did they have a colossal task set before them.

As I started getting deeper and deeper into the words the two had written, I uncovered this one bit in the book from page 141. Needless to say, my heart was wrenched…

Suddenly I find myself in a giant hall. Surrounding me are thousands

of young people; battered, bruised and broken. Then suddenly a voice:

‘What am I bid?’ A young girl stands before the crowd of lechering, sneer-

ing men. ‘What am I bid for this piece of flesh?’ The men start to cheer

and shout figures: ‘Ten’, ‘Twenty’, ‘Fifty’, ‘One hundred’. What can I do,

God? I start to bid. I have to save her. The cost becomes huge and I begin

to waver. Can I afford this? What price will I pay? The dream stops.

I’m alone again, but the faces are real enough. Alice being sold into

prostitution. Jack with a revolver in this mouth. Kat covered in cuts

and bruises. John falling into crime. Laura alone and desperate. Steve,

heroin needle bulging into his vein. ‘What am I bid?’ The voice shatters

the silence. The auction is on. The bidding has begun. It will continue

day and night until the end. Most of the bidders desire only use and

abuse. Satan drives them on. For him young lives are for destruction.

Chaos is his aim. God is there, but he has chosen us to go into the auct-

ion. His desire: that we bid for everyone. Are we willing? The cost will

be huge. We may have to give our lives. The currency is prayer. The

price is massive. But the prize is glorious. What am I bid?

I want to do so much for his kingdom and really, prayer is the first step. Like the guys said, the price is massive. It’s going to be a lot of work ensuring that I cover the people I know who need it. I know its going to be a struggle to stay faithful, but the prize really is phenomenally glorious. I am here to serve, I am here to take up my cross.

Pray like it all depends on God, live like it all depends on us.