Something cool is happening in Kohi.
A super informal, interactive community church.  Come at 10.50am, grab a free coffee, bring it into the church, meet people, chat, touch base with God - get topped up - leave feeling great.  We sing,  we chat,  we listen,  we share,  we pray. Have your say,  share an experience, testimony, verse, song, whatever's on your heart.  Almost like church but not as our parents knew it . . .

On this website we'll post extracts from our time together. For more info email  craig@theriver.kiwi  or  mark@theriver.kiwi  

HI FROM CRAIG & MARK
We started The River as a way of reaching out to people with an alternative form of church. In Biblical times the gatherings of the disciples were very informal. They often had a meal together and spent a lot of time talking about God.

Check this out.
Possibly one of the most powerful anti-violence against women videos ever created. Absolute must see. Turn sound on. Hats off to Counties Manukau Police who adopted the initiative  —  spread the word.

Porque Jesus nâo quer . . .
Because Jesus doesn't want . . .

What is God like?
A young women in a certain church had had a baby out of wedlock and after a year it came time to dedicate the baby to God.  At the dedication the pastor stood at the front and said,  'You all know the circumstances surrounding the birth of this child and it is now time to dedicate the baby to the Lord.'

Then the Pastor asked,  'Is there any man here who would come up to the front and stand beside this women and take the vows with her?'

As the young woman stood there holding the little baby, alone and vulnerable wondering what would happen next, God's Spirit moved. 
Every single male in the church young and old stood up, left their seats, made their way to the front and stood beside her.

What she must have felt as each man in the church walked up, nodded and smiled to her as he took his place to stand beside her.

The woman's name is Christina.  This is a true story and that is what God is like.

Grace Wins
In my weakest moment I see you, shaking your head in disgrace, I can read the disappointment, written all over your face
Here come those whispers in my ear, Saying who do you think you are, Looks like you're on your own from here, Cause grace could never reach that far

But, in the shadow of that shame, beat down by all the blame, I hear you call my name saying 'It's not over'.

And my heart starts to beat, So loud now, drowning out the doubt, I'm down but I'm not out
There's a war between guilt and grace, And they're fighting for a sacred space, But I'm living proof, Grace wins every time
—  Matthew West

A Christmas message of peace.
Nicki showed us this before Christmas. It's another remarkable must see video by St Pauls Church. We haven't embedded it as they ask that it is not published. It is the story of Jesus and Bethlehem told by people from Bethlehem. Jesus came to tell the people about peace about how to live together. They wanted to kill Him. There was an order to kill all the children of Bethlehem. Jesus was born a refugee. Without Jesus we cannot reach the Father. He is the prince of peace. Click below  —

THE WAITING FATHER
Sawat had disgraced his family and dishonoured his father's name. He had come to Bangkok to escape the dullness of village life. He had found excitement, and while he prospered in his sordid lifestyle he had found popularity as well.

When he first arrived, he had visited a hotel unlike any he had ever seen. Every room had a window facing into the hallway and in every room sat a girl. The older ones smiled and laughed. Others, just 12 or 13 years old or younger, looked nervous, even frightened.

That visit began Sawat's venture into Bangkok's world of prostitution. It began innocently enough, but he was quickly caught like a small piece of wood in a raging river. Its force was too powerful and swift for him, the current too strong.

Soon he was selling opium to customers and propositioning tourists in the hotels. He even went so low as to actually help buy and sell young girls, some of them only nine and ten years old. It was a nasty business, and he was one of the most important of the young businessmen.

Then the bottom dropped out of his world: He hit a string of bad luck. He was robbed, and while trying to climb back to the top, he was arrested. The word went out in the underworld that he was a police spy. He finally ended up living in a shanty by the city trash pile.

Sitting in his little shack, he thought about his family, especially his father, a simple Christian man from a small southern village near the Malaysian border. He remembered his dad's parting words: 'I am waiting for you.' He wondered whether his father would still be waiting for him after all that he had done to dishonour the family name. Would he be welcome in his home? Word of Sawat's lifestyle had long ago filtered back to the village.

Finally he devised a plan. "Dear Father," he wrote, "I wanted to come home, but I don't know if you will receive me after all that I have done. I have sinned greatly, father. Please forgive me. On Saturday night I will be on the train that goes through our village.

If you are still waiting for me, will you tie a piece of cloth on the Po tree in front of our house? (Signed) Sawat.

On that train ride he reflected on his life over the past few months and knew that his father had every right to deny him. As the train finally neared the village, he churned with anxiety. What would he do if there was no white cloth on the Po tree?

Sitting opposite him was a kind stranger who noticed how nervous his fellow passenger had become. Finally Sawat could stand the pressure no longer. He blurted out his story in a torrent of words. As they entered the village, Sawat said, "Oh, sir, I cannot bear to look. Can you watch for me? What if my father will not receive me back?

Sawat buried his face between his knees. "Do you see it, sir? It's the only house with a Po tree.

"Young man, your father did not hang just one piece of cloth. Look! He has covered the whole tree with cloth!" Sawat could hardly believe his eyes. The branches were laden with tiny white squares. In the front yard his old father jumped up and down, joyously waving a piece of white cloth, then ran in halting steps beside the train. When it stopped at the little station he threw his arms around his son, embracing him with tears of joy.

"I've been waiting for you!" he exclaimed.

Sawat's story is a parallel to the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15:11 - 24 and that is what the Father is like.

Photos
Extracts from  — The River —