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The story of Enter, a niche ministry for entertainers

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Charles Brammall tells the story of a niche ministry – ENTER, the Entertainment Bible Ministry – Reaching Sydney’s Entertainment Industry for Jesus

Entertainment people can be prone to emotional fragility, and struggle with Mental Health issues. In my time with the Entertainment Bible Ministry (ENTER), I encountered this multiple times. All the following accounts actually happened- they are not fiction. I have changed some of the genders and details, for anonymity, but they are basically accurate. If any of these stories cause you concern, please call the Mental Health Lineon 1800011511, or Lifeline on 131114, or SMS 0477131114.

Sculptures by the Sea, 2010:

My radio crackled.

And spat:

“We’ve got a jumper, top of South Bondi cliffs, just beside that big bunch of sculptures- I’m a couple ks away and it’d take me a while to get there. Anyone copy?”

I responded, and sprinted just over a km- I was the first one there. The elderly man was sitting about eighteen inches from the edge of the cliff, one leg outstretched and hanging, above Bondi Beach. I climbed the fence as quietly as possible and walked slowly towards him, saying hello softly, trying not to threaten. Silence.

I said “Hi buddy. Everything alright? You okay?”

Nothing.

But then a few tears, and slumping, edging towards the drop as I approached.

I crept forward slowly and sat down to his right, offered him my left hand, resting it on the sandstone ledge. 

Stillness.

After a few more minutes his hand crept over to mine, took a finger, then my palm, then gripped hard.

Me: “Would you like a cuppa?”

“You sure I can have one?”

“Course!”

“Okay. Yes please. Decaf coffee thanks. You haven’t got Skim have you?”

“I think we can find some skim buddy. Or at least light. Or soy. Would that be okay?”

“Sure- Skim please, if that’s okay. I need to lose weight” (a tiny smile through the tears)

“Okay bud. On way. And you definitely DON’T need to lose weight!😊

One of the other Sculptures staff scrambled for the drink. 

We’d been together eight minutes.

Within another four, the gentle, white suit clad, Police negotiation team arrived, calm, walking slowly, and took over. 

He stood up, stepped back from the edge, hugged me as we said goodbye.

****

Dark, attractive and tall, N…was a wanna-be drummer. She jumped up uninvited during a song in church and came out the front and started playing bongos. She wasn’t very good, but her heart was in it.

At morning tea afterwards, enthusiastically swallowing some choc fudge, her face darkened, brow furrowed, the Schizophrenia predating:

“Charles, are you my father?”

“No buddy. I’d be happy to be, but I’m not. Why do you ask? What makes you think that?”

“Satan tells me you’re my father. Are you? And he says horrible things to me as well.”

“Ohh, I’m sorry sis. I imagine that’s really scary?”

“Yep. He talks to me in the TV. He tells me I’m wicked and evil. And says I need to kill myself.”

“Ohh N…, I’m very sorry. I imagine that’s scary. You know that’s wrong? You don’t need to kill yourself at all!”

“I hate Satan. But he says he loves me. And he tells me the truth.”

“Ohh N…, Is there anything I can do to help?…”

Four days later N… jumped off the fourth floor balcony of her housing commission flat. And passed away. I had to go and identify her.

She was firmly in Christ when she died.

****

A young chap from church called, terrified: “Charles, I’ve done something really stupid”

“What’s that N…?”

“I’ve taken a whole bottle of Panadeine”

“Okay. Stay put. Don’t do anything. We’ll be there as soon as we can”

In Casualty, his stomach was pumped. We went to see him.

“Hi buddy”.

Silence. Palms covering his eyes.

“PLEASE don’t tell Mum and Dad! Please!”

We didn’t.

He was in ministry.

****

She was in JIRT, the undercover Police unit exposing Peadophilia.

And newly engaged to a chap at our church.

She didn’t make use of the Psychological services the Force offered, but we didn’t know that. Her fiance knew she didn’t, but didn’t say.

One morning she went in to her unmarked JIRT office in the suburbs, took out her service revolver, and said goodbye. She is definitely with the LORD now. 

****

N sounded panicky when she called. She said “Could you come to my flat right NOW please Charles? I’m in a REALLY bad way.” She was a serving part of ENTER, a Christlike Christian, and involved in the Motor Show. I sped over and she told me again that she was still desperately lonely- she’d never been able to find a partner. We had chatted and searched the Scriptures and prayed about this many times before. She just wanted companionship and love.

She felt trapped, imprisoned, unable to escape. “I’m going  to jump off my balcony today if I don’t find someone very soon” We chatted and prayed again and she promised to call me if it got worse. I left. A few days went by, I had heard nothing, then she called. She had met someone online who was lovely! They had coffee, discovered they both fancied each other, and started going out. Six months or so went by, and he proposed. They married (very happily), and now have offspring. God is kind. 

***

I went to see him in the Rehab Unit of one of our large teaching hospitals. He was a creative, and a paraplegic. The voices from his Schizophrenia had told him to jump off his balcony and take his life. So he had obeyed the voices and done it, but survived, just- and sustained terrible paraplegic injuries. Now the voices were telling him how pathetic he was- he couldn’t even take his own life! What a failure- at everything, even death. Before I left the Chaplaincy lunchroom to go and visit him, on the spur of the moment I grabbed a mango from the fruit bowl on the lunch table, to take to him as a gift. I knew he liked fruit. I walked in and said hi. We had become good friends over the months, and he was a believer. When he saw the mango he screamed at me vituperatively, terror and fury in his exhausted voice:

“HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU TELL ME I’M GOING TO HELL!”

“Ohh mate, I’m very sorry. I’m not sure what you mean? I haven’t told you you’re going to hell. I would never say that. You’re definitely going to Heaven!”

“It’s the manGO! You said I’m ‘GO’ing to to hell! Man-GO!”

I pray he is still a believer today. 

****

His wife called me urgently early one Sunday morning, in the scorching February heat. They were in a church car park and she was frantic and didn’t know what to do. He was a keen, lovely Christian man with a servant heart, and she was in ministry. He was a creative. I arrived at the car to find him lying in a foetal position on the scorching bitumen just outside the car door, rocking h

and whimpering. His wife was embracing their two little kids as they cried “What’s wrong with Daddy?!” I knelt down and attempted to comfort him- it was hard to know what to say.

I stayed with him for half an hour or so, as others took his wife and the kids away to care for and love them. His weeping slowly subsided and finally stopped. We chatted quietly for a long time. “What was wrong?”

“Nothing unusual:

Just my normal grinding sadness for no reason; I can’t think of anything in the future; I haven’t got any hope; no interest or pleasure in things that normally give me joy, like my wife, kids and ministry. I feel desperately guilty, I hate myself, I’m so ashamed, I regret everything. I can’t  face people at all. I feel so overwhelmed. I can’t do anything. I’ve gotta drag my limbs across the room to get anywhere; they’re as heavy as lead. I’m indescribably tired. I can’t make the most simple, trivial decisions. I feel anxious about the tiniest things, I know it’s irrationally. If this’s what life’s like, I just want out.”

Had there been a trigger? No, not really. Just a normal, tough Sunday morning at home getting the kids ready for church.

I helped him up, and finally into his church. Into God’s family. To this day he is still a Godly, humble, fruitful Christian. His wife is still thriving in ministry, in another niche ministry like ENTER in fact. 

****

The Entertainment Industry profoundly shapes our culture, thought, and mores with enormous power. We can harness it for His Kingdom! But it’s also one of the neediest industries to receive the news of Jesus’ liberating death. Many performers are drawn to the industry because of their low self worth, and the intoxicating, addictive high of being lauded and loved by an audience. Applause is a drug, the call for an encore almost overwhelming, and a standing ovation, almost La Petite Mort. 

Parts of this book might seem a tad “right brain” to you- intuitive, stream of consciousness, even disorganised. If this annoys you, I apologise unreservedly. I think that’s the way my brain works (or doesn’t). So this book might not be for you. If so, all good! No offense taken at all.  

I never meant to end up as missionary Chaplain to the Entertainment Industry! But I’m enthusiastic about mission. God closed the door multiple times to overseas mission, so I assumed I’d be in parish ministry all my life. But I ended up in “Cross Cultural Mission” anyway, just in in Sydney, and to a “subculture”.

My love for entertainment has always been strong. My background is in Acting Teaching, writing, directing, amateur acting and singing.

And it’s in the blood- my grandma, Bertha Southey Brammall, known as “Tasmania’s Own Poet”, was also a children’s radio broadcaster, author, and composer. My late brother Chris was a radio Broadcaster and station manager at 2GB  in Sydney. Many of my uncles and cousins, and my wife, are or were journalists.

My second cousin Patrick Brammall (along with his wife, Harriet Dyer), is a Gold Logo winning actor, writer and director for “Colin From Accounts”. He also wrote or acted in “The Alice”, “No Activity”, “Upper Middle Bogan”, “Summer Love”, La Petite Mort”, and “Hawke”. And my great great great great grandfather Robert Southey, author of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”, was Poet Laureate to George III. He was one of the “Lakes” Romantic  Poets along with his dear friends William Wordsworth and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. He was Coleridge’s brother in law, and the two friends were involved in early experiments with “Laughing Gas” (Nitrous Oxide). He wrote of it “I am sure the air in heaven must be this wonder-working gas of delight.”

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