I'm spending too much time on the floors of the toilets in Zac's.
First it was Ric persuading me to get up close and personal with the scrubbed floor in the gents' then it's mopping up a flood, the result of a broken cistern in the ladies'.
It's hard to describe last night's bible study in Zac's. Impossible to capture the atmosphere, the emotions, the noise, anger, happiness, a mix of highs and lows, good and bad. Considering Jesus before Pontius Pilate (or pilates as one lady called him) and the Sanhedrin, his confession of himself as the Christ, the coming of his time. Major, crucial, points for our faith. Almost getting lost in the mayhem of accusation and denial, drunkenness and pain, and birthday celebrations.
And somewhere in the mix, one man who's changing. Who's found love in human form but is still searching for reassurance of love divine. Who's learning to trust again.
And then there was the first-time visitor who told me, 'It's like Wind Street on a Saturday night in here. There should be a rule: no one who's drunk or drugged should be allowed in.'
From my mouth came the words, 'Well, it's Zac's policy that everyone can come in.' In my head I spoke different words, 'Your first time here and you believe you have the right to not only think that but to pronounce it? Who do you think you are?' Pah!
I'm not going to think about that idiot again. Instead I'll remember the barriers that show signs of crumbling, the hungry lad well-fed for the first time in days, the ex-addict, hard man with a messed up head who really seems to be sorting out his life this time - and the man who'd done a good job of hogging the discussion who ended up by saying, 'Some people are all hot air and all they do is talk.'