Trev Gregory: Update

Now here's a slice of American pie which I was pleased to witness and be a part of.

Friends were 'house-sitting' or a couple who were way for a month. Such were the delights of their borrowed home that it sported a pool. Which is gret in these high temperatures in Georgia.

Yesterday afternoon my friend, a mega high detailer who consideres himself naked without a list - returned to find begin the clean up operation. Now in my eyes the such a clean-up would not take too long, but for him it would involve a major extermination and erradication of all dust. Imagine the fright he got when as he pulled into the drive there was a white car parked and the back gate was open.

Gingerely he got from his car while racking his brain to think who's car it was. He was stopped in his tracks when he realised that it was a work colleagues wife who had come over for a swim - something she had never done before, but knowing the house was empty figured it was OK!

Embarrised beyond belief at seeing his friend in so much flesh, he managed to compose himself and head for the house to begin operation erradication. His planned and strategised military objective was only interpted when he left for the 40 minute round trip to the airport to pick me up.

As we drove homeward he talked about what had been achieved, how much dirt and grime had bee slaughtered in the name of cleanliness, and what his hopes were for success before the close of play that evening.

Upon arrival he immediately busyied himself with his tasks and his wife sat for a few moments in conversation. It was then that the second piece of horror entered my friends day.

The people's who house we were in arrived home!
They had travelled some 20 hours and, by the look of them, just wanted to fall into THEIR bed in THEIR home. What they were not expecting was a military styled clean up and an English stranger sat at THEIR table.

So what do you do?

As you consider take a look at this....

Link

Friends on the border of Burma and Thailand are reporting that Burmese refugees who are mainly orphans and women are at risk. Though they have been safe in Thailand for these past two-and-a-half weeks since the Burmese Army offensive against them, they may not be safe any longer. The DKBA, a branch of the Burmese Army, is demanding that the Thai Army repatriate the refugees. They are demanding that all the refugees be sent back to Burma by Tuesday this week. Of course, if they are sent back, the men will be killed, the woman will be raped and some killed, and the children will be made to walk in front of the DKBA army as they go through mine fields. The children will be blown up as human shields for the DKBA. And unfortunately, the local Thai Army in the area seems to be accommodating the wishes of the DKBA.

Pray:
1) ...that the United Nations will grant official refugee status to these people, even if it's only a temporary status. If they receive official refugee status, they can stay in Thailand and cannot be forced back.

2) ...that the Thai Army will realize their responsibility to protect these people.

3) ...that if God has another way to deliver His people, that "His
will would be done in the earth!"

See the country profile on
...BBC http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/country_profiles/1300003.stm
...CIA https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/BM.html

Prior to leaving the UK for the USA I have opportunity to rummage through pastimes boxes of memories. As the cloud of dust cleared around me I came across the manuscript and video for my first book, Serious Prayer.

Published in 1997 is was the culmination of a youth prayer project and initiative which began with Hull YFC, was adopted nationally by BYFC, and then became a project of some dozen or so youth ministries in the UK under the auspices of the the EA (Evangelical Alliance).

Anyways, here's the first installment.


Link

Denice continues to go from strength to strength. Over the last few weeks she has re-invigorated the shed or Garden house we build when we first move here and re-instated it as her work studio. She has a begun making jewellery and hats again. It’s amazing what is happening.
During early March (while I was away in Ghana) she was asked by the church to share a testimony. We know that many of you would appreciate hearing her story so we asked for it to be recorded and you can download it at:
http://www.missionnow.com/podcast.

I think you will find it a very encouraging and uplifting story. I still cry when I hear listen to it. God is so good.

Caragh is in the final stages of her University degree; in actual fact she has to hand in the dissertation tomorrow, Tuesday May 26. She is taking a year out of studying and will then hopefully go to London School of Theology (same place Denice and I went) in 2010.

Luke arrived home from Kansas, USA, as a surprise for Kendall on her 18th Birthday. His time away has been excellent and he has certainly matured a lot...particularly his sense of humour. At present he is job hunting and applying to various colleges to continue his studies.

Kendall is just started a working with the RBS Mortgage call centre. This is great news.

We are all off to Portugal for a 10 day holiday. This is the 1st time we have been away all together on a family holiday since 2002. To be honest, with Denice being so ill and the children growing up, I’d given up hope of ever having a holiday together again. But God is good and we made it!

Trade Right International / missionNOW
Things are developing at quite a pace and at times it is hard to keep up. Despite this being because of my age (thought I’d say it before you think it!), it’s also partly due to the need to get some admin support in place. Please pray we can begin to sort this out.

I have just submitted a bid for funding for Trade Right International (Liberia) to a European Government for a solar initiative. If we can get the fading then TRI will be able to create 250 jobs among former child-soldiers. This is all part of the plans for the vocational school we helped repatriate from Ghana last Christmas.
Pray the bid is accepted and we can move forward on this.
Pray also that the £10,000 needed to open the vocational school would be found soon – there are some 350 students enrolled but we need funds to finish furnishing the school before it can open fully.
In Ghana we are beginning to gear up for the Shea Nut season which opens in July/August.

The plans for missionNOW to become a registered charity are now going through with the Scottish charity commission. We had a letter informing us it would take 12 weeks, now we have heard it could take up to 24 weeks as there is a back-log.
Please pray this comes through quicker.

My diary over the next few months includes a trip to the USA. My itinerary is:
June 8: Atlanta
June 9-12: Canton, Ohio
June 13-20 Atlanta
June 21-23: Fort Myers, Florida
June 24: Home
The first part are meetings concerning the WEA:MC research project into mobilisation I am co-chair of. From Ohio I then spend 7 days in Atlanta fundraising for Ghana and Liberia.
From there I go to Fort Myers to meet with a group we might be partnering with in Liberia on a youth church planning project. (More on that at a later date).

In July Denice and I will be visiting some support Churches.
July 5: Greenock Baptist Church
July 12: St. Barnabas Church, Swanland
If you are near, please come over and say ‘Hi’

Finally, can we thank you once again for your partnership and support. It is appreciated and we hope that listening to Denice’s testimony on
http://www.missionnow.com/podcast
will encourage you because without your support we would not be able to do these things.

Yesterday, Saturday, I had time to muse and while walking the streets of Secunderabad, twin city of Hyderabad, I stumbled across the Café Coffee Day coffee on MG Road. With a European styled Cappuccino I found a quite secluded sofa and nestled in for some serious musing.

My musing centred around the question, Why is the death of Jesus different from that of Martin Luther-King Jr, or John the Baptiser? After all, I surmised, it is simply not enough to confess, ‘Christ died for our sins’; as there must be a connection between the death of Jesus and our sin.

Here’s where my thinking went…
Now, if I was drowning in Hussain Sagar Lake, and someone jumps into rescue me, but while I survive he drowns in the effort, there can be no doubt about the man gave his life for me. But if, later the same day, I am attacked by a tiger in the Sanjeevaiah Park among the rose gardens, then I need a different kind of help.
The man jumping into the Lake to save me from drowning will not now save me from the tiger! You see even though he gave his life, I am still facing the tiger!
Similarly, Christ gave his life on the cross for my sin, but how does that save me?
Somehow there must be a connection between Christ’s death and my sin, because unless there is one, then Christ’s death is no proof of his love for me, or that it has saved me from my sin.

In fact if I cannot find such a connection, then the death of Jesus is just the same ‘value’ of Martin Luther-King Jr or John the Baptiser. No more, no less.

When you place these three lives next to each other there are many parallels and similarities:
Each laboured to renew and liberate people from oppression; each had a different ‘take’ on what life could/should be like; each were great orators; each confronted leaders and systems and ingrained racism and prejudice; and each were murdered for their efforts.

So, what singles Jesus out?
The resurrection.
But even this does not fully answer the question as to the connection between Jesus death on the cross, my sin, and the forgiveness, liberation and freedom it brings.

So what is the connection?

I mused on as I walked the length of MG Road.
The mystery deepening in my mind with each step I took.

Perhaps the answer lies in pictures used by the NT writers to describe this mystery.
At the time I thought of 8 pictures, and as I write I can remember 6 – perhaps the others will come as I progress here.

1. The Law Court - where the prisoner is condemned but the Judge take on himself the sentence Ro 3
2. Prisoner exchange – the picture of redemption; of buying back. Eph 1:7
3. War – where Jesus is described as the victor over sin and death as a result of a great confrontation between good and evil. 1Cor 15:57 (see also CS Lewis, Lion Witch and the Wardrobe)
4. Sacrificial Offering – where Jesus is described as the lamb without blemish. 1Cor 5:7
5. Slave Emancipation – 1Cor 6:19 – the process of buying a slave for a set price and then releasing them.
6. Wisdom – 1Cor 1:17 – Paul writes of the cross as the wisdom and power of God
7. Ticker Tape Parade – Jesus leads the triumphal procession over the powers of evil. Col 2:15
8. I cannot remember! Write in with the answer…..

As I retreated my steps down MG Road back in the direction of Café Coffee Day coffee, a somewhat mischievous thought struck me.

All of these images, pictures, metaphors are Pauline or from the within the Church.
They were post death of Jesus.
Post resurrection.

Important though they are – I really am not denying their validity – but to some degree Paul (and the other NT epistle writers) were trying to describe the meaning of an event and projecting back. They were, interpreting history to their way of thinking.

So, mused I, did Jesus give any hint at the connection between his death and my sin?

To answer that I must scour the gospels and get back to you.

Each time I come to India it takes a few days to get used to the assault on each and everyone of my senses. From the moment of disembarking from the plane I am literally under sensory attack.

This must be the smelliest nation!
I’m not talking pong – but there are plenty of pongs here.
No
What I mean is within a split second you can experience the soft aroma of the Joss stick burning on the Hindu shrine in the hotel lobby which is then overtaken by the smell of diesel, or the gentle waft of spices being sold out on the street.
Walking along the roadside (pavements are few and far between and when they do exist are cracked and uneven) and there is no escape from the mingling sensation of smells – street vendors spices; charcoal fires; petrol fumes; paint; public urinals; or food cooking.

Perhaps one place where is sense is utilised and singled out for attention is when you eat. It’s absolutely amazing.

There is the smell of cooking – the different curries and spices blend together and get the taste buds watering.

Then, as you walk to your table, your see the different colours of the curries, dall and breads sat on other diners’ tables.

When your food arrives you narrow in on the particular smell and sight of your chosen dishes before the touch, sound and taste kick in.

Eating with your hands and feeling the texture of your food is something long forgotten in the West…even in Indian Restaurants heads turn if you begin eating with your hands – I know I’ve tried it! But here in India the feel of your food is as much about the smell as it is about the taste. Taking a few grains of rice and needing it into the curry source begins to set off an inner chain reaction which culminates in the taste.

But before the taste, as you touch and need the food there is the sound it makes. The ripping of the naan bread with the right hand and then the squelching sound as you mix the food on your plate, is followed by the scooping sound of the bread catching the food. This sound is varied by the use of your right hand as you scoop the mixture of rice and source into the finger scoop and take it to your mouth.

Amazing experience

As a somewhat season traveller of the cheap-set type – in other words I’m not too fussy about my accommodation and who tends to steer away from Western hotels if possible – last night was for me an unusual event.

I arrived into Hyderabad Airport at 02.00hr from Amersham and was immediately impressed with the new international facilities. From plane to immigration to baggage collection to walking out the door took me a mere 22 minutes. Try doing that at any US airport as a recognised ‘alien’ and you’ll be certainly detained as a terror suspect! Anyways as Obama is all about change, perhaps that’s one improvement he’ll make for us aliens visiting him.

As I landed in the middle of the night when any self-respecting Indian would be tucked up in bed, I had earlier emailed my hosts to say I’ll check into a hotel nearby and see them the next day. This, me thought would be simpler and would save an additional 2 hours of travelling that night.

Because the new international airport is new – it’s 8 months old – the number of hotels in the vicinity was limiting. In fact very limited….to one: Novotel. But after scouring the internet for a good price, I booked a room and breakfast for 1.

Walking outside Arrivals Hall I was once again tempted to change my identity to be someone on whose name was written on the cards and hotel boards being waved at me. But resisting temptation, I noticed a Novotel desk and so duly reported my reservation code. Within seconds a polite driver was at my side carrying my case and together we marched toward the car park and got into the car.

As we drove the 5 minute route, I thought that perhaps I could pretend to be some big-shot business executive who had just flown business class to attend an urgently called company meeting. But knowing I would never pull it off, I resumed my state and identity of poor old Trev.

Arriving at the Novotel, the car was checked for bombs and incendiaries. We had none and were waved inside the compound.
Before entering the building I was again security checked and scanned. Clean.
My case was then checked. Clean.

So being ‘clean’ I continued across the marble floor in the high vaulted lobby to the reception desk.
The hotel, like the airport, is new. This time it is only 4 months old…and you can still smell the paint drying.

I was checked in and assigned room 315.
Within the flicker of a broken pompadom falling to the floor, a Concierge was by my side to take my case and show me to the room.
We walked past the outdoor sweet smelling pool, into an adjoining building and made for the lift.

Reaching the third floor the Concierge adeptly led me to room 315. He opened the door and waited for me to enter. I obviously obliged…and there was a man asleep in the bed.
I turned and suggested that perhaps we had the wrong room.

We exited leaving the man to dream on, hopefully unaware of the near miss he had just encountered. The concierge told me to wait in the lobby while he sorted out a new room.

Within minutes he had returned and once again we were winding our way around the corridors of this 4 month old luxury hotel. We arrived at room 345. He opened it and this time I asked him to enter first. As no one was present in the bed, I accepted the room. The Concierge showed me the air-conditioning instructions; the bathroom; and the mini-bar. Then he turned an exited.

I looked at my watch: it said 03.00hrs.

Time for some Zzzzzzzz.

I turned to the bed and saw on the pillow present. Knowing that some hotels give complementary chocolates I went to have a closer look. These were not chocolates. They were more like…
[it is at this point that I must consciously think about who will read this Blog because my parents brought me up not to say certain words, but as the likelihood of them reading this are slim, I think I’m ok]

*beep*
Larger than mouse *beep*
Larger than rat *beep*
Smaller than cat *beep*

In my shock at seeing *beep* in a Novotel I forgot to take photos, otherwise this would have been a picture Blog.

I called reception.
Without saying ‘*beep*’ I tried in my politest English to explain what I had discovered on my pillow;
‘err hello, yes. There appears to be a piece of animal pooh on my pillow. I would like another room.’
This was met with, ‘What is on your pillow?’
‘Pooh’
‘Begging your pardon, sir, what is on your pillow?’
This left me no choice.
‘*beep*’ I said in a quiet voice not wanting to waken my neighbours, ‘there is a pile of *beep* on my pillow.’
‘Hello Sir, I cannot hear you, pleased speak up.’
Shouting I cried, ‘there is animal *beep* on my pillow.’
The response knocked me sideways, ‘Why have you brought animals into the hotel? What animal is it?’
My eventual response was, ‘I have not brought any animals here. Some animal has gotten into the room and left a pile of *beep*, pooh, excrement on the pillow. I want another room.’

Within minutes two House-keepers and the Concierge arrived. House-keepers armed with cleaning implements and tools, while the Concierge came holding another room key. All three stood gazing at the pile of *beep* and one finally said, ’definitely from an animal’.

I wanted to tell him he was in the wrong job, CSI need him. But I chickened out and instead opted to follow the Concierge to room 560.

Being back in Ghana for the third time this year feels like I'm an old hand. I know how the airport works...or does not; how the traffic works...or does not; and how long things take. Well, as they say in Blood Diamund, 'TIA. This is Africa!'

Today though I had opportunity to meet up again with the staff and leadership of WETAVS. This is a Vocational Training School which was founded on the Budubram Refugee camp by a group Liberian refugees. They were concerned and moved by the plight and needs of the former child soldiers and so began a counselling programme for them. This grew into offering training in order to help them re-integrate back into society. Many of the former chil soldiers were drug addicts and had seen/taken part in great acts of voilence against their fellow countrymen.

The counselling evolved into vocational training and over intervening 7 years more than 1000 teenage men and women have been trained in motor mechanics, farming, building, carpentry, plumbing, technical drawing & architecture, and tailoring.

Since May a repatrication programme has been in force and by the end of December 2008, the camp will be officially closed. When I visited in May the population was 55,000; in August 30,000; and now it is estimated to be lower than 20,000. The repatriation of Liberians back to their homeland has many implications. Each refugee is given just $100 and are allowed one bag on the UN buses and planes. So there are lorries carrying peoples lives...or whatever they will carry for the $100.

While many are going home to nothing because they lost their family in the 18 year civil war. Some just do not know where to go because they have lost everything. But others, are facing the challenge with excitment because of the training they received from WETAVS they are returning to help re-build their nation...literally rebuild it with their hands and skills given through the training.

And WETAVS?
Well it is moving also back to Liberia.
Their vision is to open in Buchanan City the country's first vocational school offering internationally recognised qualifications.

And this is what missionNOW & Trade Right International are assisting with. Focussing on a three phased strategy:

1. Repatriation - moving people and equipment to Liberia and getting established to be open for new Students in January 2009
2. Development - capacity building the school. missionNOW has teamed up with Elmwood College, Scotland (http://www.elmwood.ac.uk/) to train and develope the school for offering qualifications
3. Sustainability - one of the key factors is the establishing the school as sustainable and so not dependent on outside foreign income for everyday running costs.

But for now the focus is on Phase 1: Repatriation; and to do this $75,000 is needed by November. So far $18,000 has been raised.

Flying gives me an oportunity to read and sleep. But on the short flight from Glasgow to Amsterdam today I continued reading the second part of Eugene Peterson's trilogy, Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places.
This sentence stood out from the text:

Quote:

'Work does not take us away from God; it continues the work of God through us' Eugene Peterson, 'Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places' page: 115

and it triggered some thoughts. Now these may appear unedited, untried and tested, but give me a break. I was at 25,000ft at the time and am hurriedly writing as i wait for my next plane. However, comments would be appreciated...

Thoughts:
1. Interesting how we divorce God from our work. Often this is subliminal in our messages given in the church when, as great Sabbath keepers, we relegate work to an interuption of worship.
2. How come more of our time is taken up with spiritual matters of 'blessing me' and not in equipping us for work?
3. Why are those who are in full-time Christian work seen as on a higher spiritual level than those who work? This was witnessed recently in a conversation i had with one guy who suggested he worked in order to pay for God's work and tat he had not been chosen to work full-time for God. Hmm...we got something wrong if this is our motivation for work.

Peterson puts it into perspective: we work to put into practice the continuing work of God in our lives. After all, if he cannot work in us in our work place, where can he work?

Often times in life I am left asking the question, 'why me?'

When the water fails to go down the plughole in the shower - Why me?
When the dog is sick on the carpet and I'm the 1st one to see it - Why me?
When the alarm does not go off - Why me?
When the cats decide to *beep* on th floor and I tread in it as I let the dog out after being sick on the floor - WHY ME?

Such hardships, suffering and persecution by our managery of animals, all fade away when I consider the WHY ME of gaininig a visa.

Readers will record of my adventure of getting a visa into Ghana as I arrived last time in the country. See http://missionnow.com/blog/weblog_entry.php?e=293&sid=ae497c8acfe577cf91d213be3452d6fb for details.

Well, being the super organised person I am, this time I thought I would apply for a 2 year multi-entry visa. The Ghanaian High Commission web site says it will take 10 days to process. I had 20 days, so no worries.
With 1.5 days left before I travel the passport is not in sight...

When it did not show-up after 10 dyas I called the said High Commission and was told that the reply envelope had been ripped as they took it out and so could not be used. They said that although this was their fault, I had send a replacement self-addressed-recorded delivery envelope!

Experience has shown me not to argue with such people as they are pretty powerful and could make my travelling to their country 'interesting'. So I duly oblidged and sent them yet another self-addressed-recorded delivery envelope.
They should have received it Monday.
I should have received the passport Tuesday.
It's Wednesday and still no passport.

This morning I phoned again and after some considerable time on hold was informed the passport would be posted out today, but it might not be with me until Friday.

Problem: I fly friday at 09.05hrs: the post usually arrives at 13.30hrs. Spot the time difference.

Problem: no passport no travel.

Problem: no travel no ticket refund - it's what happens when you buy cheap!

Problem: new ticket to fly the next day is more money...money me no have!

Solution: as soon as I finish writing this Blog entry you will find me on my kness praying the passport arrives tomrrow - Thursday.

Stay tuned

After 27 years of faithfulness today I witnessed the end of an era. A sad passing into the mists of time.

As obscure as it was on entry, so into obsecurity it has now vanished. But our lives have been deeply touched throughout. An attachment has been formed and grown over the last 27 years which propably will never be surpassed again. It is a sad day. A very sad day.

27 years ago, almost to the day did I first cast me eyes on the red and white striped towel draped over the chair in Denice's college study bedroom. We met the first time I met Denice. So intwined into our relationship over the last 27 years has this red and white striped towel that it came to symbolise so much. And today saw the demise of the red and white striped towel.

Prior to our marriage, Denice used it daily in college. You see, it was a gift from her mother. A leaving home to go to college gift. A practical gift which only a mother could give her youngest daughter. The red and white striped towel.

It was not a designer towel. It did not have a known make. No stamp of M&S or Littlewoods. This red and white towel was before Tesco's conquered the nation. Before Saindbury's came in second place. Like me, it was a simple design, a nobody of towel engineering; it was a simple red and white towel.

I believe I am right in saying that 25 years ago it accompanied us on our honeymoon. See, this simple red and white striped towel was a close and constant companion. I used it to rest Caragh on the 1st time I changed her nappy (dyper); it snuggled Luke in after his 1st bath as a baby; and it was present and used for Kendall also.

The towel was also well travelled. Our honeymoon was to Oustend, Belgium; it has been on holiday to Crete, Herakelion, USA and countless other places.

Over recent years it has been in semi-retirement and was only used 2-3x a week when I went to the gym. There was something comforting to feel the red and white striped towel drying me after a workout and shower.

But today the red and white towel died.
After 27 years of loyal service and dedication. After years of witnessing so much of our family history, it passed on to that great towel heaven.

Death came swift and clean. I showed at the gym and with great pleasure it steadfastly perfomed one last duty before quietly ripping itself on itself. It was no more.

This vintage red and white striped towel will be missed, but the memories will live on.

This is probably some news you thought we would never send out…

Hi everyone

Firstly I really want to thank you all for your constant prayers for me over the past 5years.
I know so many of you have been praying for my healing and wholeness, that you've prayed during the surgery and consequent infections. I also know that, along with Trev and I it has been difficult to understand why God has not done anything to intervene and make me well.

I want to tell you that I went to a conference in Atlanta (first week of September) and God did some amazing work in my life......I'm well…I’m happy…I’m healed - I'm finding it hard to get used to feeling this way - I've spent so long in the pit of depression, that I'd actually forgotten what happiness felt like! I want to laugh and smile and tell everyone what an amazing God we have.

It's like I've been living in a monochrome world and now it's full of colour. Everything seems so much brighter and clearer. I want a whole new wardrobe of clothes in colours other than grey, black and brown. I want to look good (although Trev says that I look amazing and my eyes sparkle again). I feel like all of my senses have come alive. Most of all I want to spend time with God, I want to get to know Him in a deeper way, to love Him more, to hear Him talking to me, to create beautiful things for Him.

This really is not some ‘high’ I actually feel ‘normal.’

So thank you all for your steadfast prayers - they are being answered but please continue to pray for us as a family. I'm still on a very high dose of various medications and these can only be decreased gradually, I'm still seeing Dr's/ Psychiatrists etc regularly. In November I have a week of tests and assessments in Dundee.

My local consultant saw me last week and could not believe the change. Although not a Christian, he commented on how I obviously needed all the factors – physical, mental and spiritual - to connect in me as part of the healing process. On Monday I had a few hours with a medic from the team who carried out the two neurosurgeries I’ve had – and they too were blown away!

I'm praising God because I can now see the wonders of His creation.

Much love
Denice

Being an author of 2 books, I have come up with an ingenious way of how to put such tomes to another use. Mushroom growing.
I gues you could say it's another take on, EAT MY WORDS.

Here what to do...
1. Take a copy of Mission Now: ISBN 1-85078-546-5 and read it - cover to cover

2. Now fill a sink with cold water and baptise the book. This spiritual act increases the blessings contained and forges them to be passed onto your mushrooms.

3. Leave in the water, submersed, for 20 minutes. This ensures all the blessings are activated. Then take it out and allow the excess water to drain off.

4. Not take some mushroom spawn and spread it throughout the book.

5. Once completed use elastic bands to secure the spawn into place and to avoid any loose blessings from escaping. I have found that such pressure also ensures the blessings enter deeper into the growing mushrooms.

6. Now place the book of blessings and mushroom spawn into a bag. Date and seal.

7. Within a few weeks it will look like this

8. And after constant prayer and watering for 4-6 weeks, the mushrooms will be ready to harvest and eat.


If you want to have a go, I can supply the kit...just let me know.

We might be separated by a common language, but culturally we are poles apart also. And my experience yesterday reenforced this quite dramatically for me.

I flew from Atlanta to Canton, Ohio, for a series of preparation meetings for other meetings in October for the WEA:Mission Commission. Confused? Don't be, its just context background for the story i am telling. In fact you can forget it. Let me start again....

Presently I am in the USA and yesterday flew from Atlanta to Canton, Ohio. Once again it was the travelling which was intersting.

Sat next to me was an American Service woman.
Now before we boarded the plane I had observed how when a Service person was spotted or present, people around them treated them with honour and respect. Something which in the UK we do not....afterall the majority of people in the UK are against the war in Iraq and Afghanistan. But for us Brits its more than that. We simply do not see the need to exhube such patriatism so publically. The enarest we get to patriatism is unfurling a flag before a mojor international football tournament. But in the USA, these people carry with them an aura of John Wayne on steriods and observers treat them as VIP's or worse royalty.

On the plane the Cabin Attendant offered the Service Woman a drink; but she refused as she was in uniform.

Then as the plane landed the Cabin Attendant announced that we should all 'show our appreciation for US Forces fighting to save American culture and values in Iraq'. The passengers duly cheered and clapped. But the attendant had no finished, she then asked that we remain silent and allow the Service personnel to leave the plane first. To do this I had to stand and allow the woman past me.
I obviously oblidged.

But I was doumb-founded by the whole event.
I had not clapped to show my appreciation 'for US Forces fighting to save American culture and values in Iraq'. Such an exhibition of patriatism I find very disturbing and uncomfortable. Setting aside my thinking and belief that the Iraq war is highly questionnable and has lead both the US and UK into a black-hole of war and counter terrorism war; the idea that patriatism and allegiance can be so emotive is for me a dangerous thing.

As I walked from the plance, and on thinking this all through over the last few hours, I can only conclude: it's cultural and that I'd been in the midst of a huge cultural emotional experience.

August 27th saw our 25th Wedding Anniversary.

Over the last few weeks I've been secrertly preparing the Day for Denice and so have been taking a trip down memory lane.
For the 1st time in 25 years I decided to make her anniversary card myself. But this was to be no ordinary card!
I got hold of a digital photo-frame which played MP3's; scanned in our Wedding Day Photos (probably breaking the photographers copyright...); and then found the music on MP3 which we had played at the service. This last part was no mean feat as I had to trawl music shops and download sites trying to find the exact arrangement. But I managed it....just in the nick of time. [though i do need to confess that her main present has not arrived yet: so cannot announce what it is as it a surprise still.]

Meanwhile, Denice was organising for me her own surprise. She had a ring specially made and engraved with the words and theme we had for our ceremony all those years go, 'To Love and To Cherish'. The engraving is in Hebrew.

THe evening was spent with Caragh, Luke and Kendall at a great restaruant in Glasgow, The Grill On The Corner. Great company and a superb meal with three of our closest freinds

Take a trip down memory lane....








Now who's the good looking young guy with the amazingly beautiful girl?

How come in the UK, and for much of Western Europe, we hide our giving in Church services behind a cloak of stern serious dirge?

Is it because of our piousness; embarrassment; ignorance; or false modesty?

In one church I was at to speak, at the offering the plate hurried past at a rate of knots which would be admired by any Olympic aquatic medallist – bronze, silver or gold.
At another the congregation sit in silence listening to some dower music piped on the organ or, worse still, a Christian attempt at supermarket music.
Meanwhile, in some churches the offering simply does not take place at all and people give in secret via standing order or direct debit.
Either way it’s done, there seems to be two lacking ingredients: SACRIFICE and JOY.

It seems to me that we give our few quid with such po-faces that in most place we would be emotionally more at ease facing tooth extraction at the dentist. We do so somewhat grudgingly out habit and tradition, not from as an expression of God’s faithfulness shown to us.

Today I had the privilege of witnessing how giving should be done: with SACRIFICE and JOY.
Most of the people giving are on less than £2 a day; yet they gave. And they gave with joy. The worship turned to praise to God; the music became upbeat; and people came forward to give into the offering basket in response to God’s faithfulness to them this past week. He had seen them through.
They gave, not to receive something back. There was no expectation or buying a blessing from God here. No. They gave in gratitude and their gratitude overflowed into dancing and praise. Sacrifice lead not to mourning, but to an exuberant expression of faith.


Link


As I watched I was reminded of the way we do it back home. I have never seen anyone dance away from the offering plate in the UK!
So I was left wondering: is there a link between the amount of money you have with the amount of SACRIFICE and JOY you express in giving?

Comments please on the back of a £10 note!

I do not think it is false modesty or fake humility, but I genuinely am surprised and honoured when asked to speak to any church congregation; no more so than when travelling. When asked, I often have the thought, ‘Lord, what am I to say? Surely these people can teach me more of you than I can teach them?’
(I do realise that those highly spiritually sensitive types will pick on me for not thinking, ‘Lord, what do you want me to say?’, but I am not perfect and the above is what I think.)

So my thinking and panic was of no surprise to me when I heard that I had been asked to speak in one of the Churches on the Buduburam Refugee Camp. But the length of the inner struggle was quite disconcerting. It was not until we reached the church that I made the final decision on my text; Luke 10:25 – the Good Samaritan.

I mean what do you say to a group of 100 people who have been quite literally through hell just to survive? Who have lost everything…including loved ones? Who have had to run for their lives?
What do you say to a group with former child soldiers present who have been forced to hate and to kill in order just to keep their own life?
What words do you express to the grandmother who has watched her children and grandchildren mutilated and killed?
What do you say to the father who witnessed his daughter being raped by rebels?

Then along comes this balding little English bloke with his northern accent; 2 years if Bible college; cosy Western lifestyle; and food at home in the fridge & freezer. I stand there and speak from Luke 10:25ff. ‘Love your neighbour as yourself’ or ‘Love the one you hate.’

While I was speaking I did notice that people were – for an African congregation – somewhat quiet. There were few ‘Amen’s’ or agreeing ‘Hallelujah’s’.
After I had finished, the Pastor rose to his feet (and to be honest at the time I thought he was just being polite) and said, ‘This truly is a word from God.’
After the closing prayer there was a rush of people coming forward to hug me and thank me for the message.

As we walked back to my lodgings, Dekontee said, ‘Trev, you really have no idea what you just spoke into, do you?’
I looked at him with a puzzled look and frown.
He told me that 80% of the camp are of the Krahn and Sarpo tribes. These two tribes were the most hunted and persecuted during the 18 year civil war because the defeated President was one of them. When they escaped and arrived on the camp many vowed not to forgive their fellow countrymen & women for the atrocities carried out against them.
Dekontee reminded me that since earlier this year the UN and Ghanaian government have been repatriating those Liberians who wanted to return home.
He then explained something which had not crossed my mind – and would not have in a month of Sundays – what you now have left on the camp, and particularly in this church is a hardened group of people who have hatred in their hearts for their neighbour. Therefore through Luke 10:25ff and my words they had come to hear that eternal life is loving God with all mind, body, strength, and spirit…and to love our neighbours as ourselves: they had heard that they needed to Love the one you hate.’
He left me speechless and quietly praising and thanking God for using me.

Today was a day of contrasts. Not in the usual sense but in skin colour.
We have been joking all week that there are two prices here, one for the Black man and the other for the White man.
Yet at the same time I have been told that nearly everyone believes what the White man says, but questions the motives and truth of the Black man.
This aspect alone carries with it some incredible responsibilities and can be a minefield of its own.

During our meal table discussions Dekontee, Dennis and Thompson have all stories of White men from NGO’s promising aid and development, but not delivering: Whiteman speaks with fork tongue syndrome from the old John Wayne Movies…but this is not just an American problem. Each have been let down in such a way more than once. But at the same time they still believe that what the White man says he will do, he will do. While their experience has shown otherwise, such a fundamental belief runs deep.

One story which I have heard told more than once this week, is how a visiting White English NGO leader took photo’s and held discussions with a local primary school. He was genuinely concerned that the children met under trees and did not have classrooms or other teaching resources. The village Chief and Elders were so impressed with him, that they offered land for a school to be built. He asked them to write a proposal; create a budget; and have drawings made of the proposed school. This they did – at their great expense. They sent them to him…and have heard nothing more. This was two years ago, but they live in hope that one day soon he will contact them and build the school.
The problem here is that expectations have been raised and the people now live in hope of him returning to build and sponsor the village children’s education.

(It is this same school which I visited in May on my last trip. Since then I have gotten them a partnership with a school in Scotland and on this trip carried in some much needed text books…and more will follow. I am also approaching some funders to help build the school).

One lesson I soon learnt in travelling to and ministering in developing nations is that it is easy to raise expectations and just as easy to not deliver them. Therefore, WE have to take our responsibilities extremely seriously and not play with people’s expectations. Couple this with the fact that we are seen as being truthful, and this brings with it some humbling responsibilities and challenges. For me, I do not want to be part of the White Promise Breakers Brigade. Membership is free and easy; being excluded from it is a lot harder.

There is another contrast which I learnt of today. In fact I experienced firsthand - Red Man Syndrome.
Hopefully Red Man Syndrome or RMS, is not fatal and should not be confused with Lobster Man Syndrome (LMS). LMS is when the White man sits outside for too long in the sun without sun cream and burns. It is a common scene in and around Gourock just now. One day of sun and the next day you are guaranteed to have an outbreak of LMS in the population. Of course for Gourock things are not helped in that we only experience 1 day of sun a year and so Pharmacies do not stock sun cream, only water repellent for the rain.

But I digress. Red Man Syndrome occurs when you travel on the un-tarred roads in your ‘World Of Pain’ taxi with the windows down. By the time you reach your destination you are covered from head to toe with fine red dust. Red Man Syndrome has struck.
Of course you need to have the windows down for the air-conditioning to work.

Today we travelled an hour to Fumbisi, a town where we will be buying Shea Nuts and have a warehouse for storage there. While in the town, we saw and met the Constituency MP, the Honourable Abolimbisa Akantagriwen. I doubt that he would recognise me again as, today when we met, I had full blown Red Man Syndrome.
By the time we travelled back to the Guest House I was almost progressing onto Orange Man Syndrome.
I believe the pictures speak for themselves.

Market day is an important day for everyone. It is a community event. People come from miles around with their goods and produce to sell so that they can buy provisions. Besides these business transactions, market days are important time to meet people and arrange business for the future.

As Sandema is just a short 10 minute walk away from the Guest House we are stating in, we walked to the town and through the thriving market to meet with the Queen Mother (a woman within the District who women go to for help and advice) and also to meet the late Paramount Chief’s son, Sylvester.

The Queen Mother is one of our strongest contacts and is acting as an agent for us in Shea Nut. She has already acquired some 40 bags of nuts and has a network of women ready to supply her with more.
In order to help communication we gave her a mobile phone - quite a status symbol in this part of Ghana – and we promised that during the harvest season each month we would put some credit onto the phone. That way as soon as she has 100 bags she calls us and we come and pick them up.

She thanked us for the phone and all the help which we had brought to the women already. She said she saw in us that we were men of our word.

After spending a little time with her we went to visit the Paramount’s Chief’s son, Sylvester. The Paramount Chief for the Buli tribe had died sometime last year and as yet no new Paramount Chief had been appointed. Until one has been enthroned a son of the late Paramount Chief assumed the civic duties, while the administration was carried out by the Council of Chiefs. So Sylvester is the man.

Previously Sylvester had been in the Ghanaian parliament as an MP for the constituency and also attained the post as Youth and Sports Minister. Now, when not holding civic court, he is a farmer. He greeted us warmly and had heard from others – including the Queen Mother – about out initiative and so he was really pleased that we had come to visit.

As we walked away from our meeting Dennis, Thompson, Dekontee and I shared how once again people were getting excited by the concept and business model we will be operating here. We remarked at Sylvester’s response, ‘Your model is so simple is should work and bring many blessings to this under-resourced and underdeveloped region of Ghana.’
Our model is simple…50% of profits are returned to the localities in which they are made and the other 50% goes into other initiatives in other place.
Simple.

We visited the Wiage and Kadema today – two villages which are taking part in the Shea Nut initiative. Altogether the women had already collected and bagged some 300 85kg sacks. It was exciting to see.

We travelled to the villages by taxi….a battered and scrapped car which must have been at least 20 years old. The driver told us it was imported from Holland and he had the Dutch garage sticker to prove it. There it was on the back window. Over the years this sticker had acquired an additional function to the original one of advertising the garage: it had gained the function of keeping the cracked glass in place. There was another announcement on the rear windscreen, ‘Death ends everything on earth’…very uplifting.

But the front windscreen message was not much better as an advert for the taxi; it read, ‘The world of pain.’

The suspension must have died some time ago as ever pot hole and rut on the dirt road vibrated through the whole of your body. I had to clench my jaw tight so as not to bit my tongue which seemed to be flapping loosely around in my mouth.
Inside the driver had adorned his pride and joy with an inflatable pink heart which said, ‘I love you’. This was shrouded in some sparkly lights which turned off and on depending on the severity of the rut we had driven over. Meanwhile the seats – still original frames – were in some desperate need of a makeover.

As the heating system and fan was not defunked, the only way to keep cool was to drive with the windows down. The way you got the windows lowered was by pulling hard on the winder and then pushing the glass down. You were cool while in motion and also somewhat dust blown.

But the best bit was when it rained…and with it being the rainy season it rained today.
Now to fully appreciate this, you really needed to be there. Consider also that this 20 year old Toyota did not have a sun roof, yet when it rained the roof leaked.
Then the car came to a halt. The driver turned and told us the magnets had gotten wet and so had shifted in the engine. We looked at each other in disbelief…but he believed it!
He got a towel and spanner from under his chair, opened the bonnet and went to the aid of the drenched dislodged magnets.
I sat in the car as the driver worked on drying the magnets and in putting them back in place.
He returned and asked us to push start the car.
Obviously we obliged after he told us that the magnets were now dry and in the proper place once again.
With rain pouring down and bouncing off the muddy road we pushed the car while he bumped started it. Then it was a mad scramble to jump in as he drove on.

Someone somewhere should start a website for tales of Taxi journeys…it would be a great read!

It rained today.
The only reason, besides the obvious spiritual ones, that I travel is to get away from the rain of Scotland. And what do I come to? The Ghanaian rainy season!
The rain in Scotland falls at a 45° angle which has the effect of churning the ground up into a boggy marshland. Meanwhile in Ghana in falls straight down, bouncing off the earth and running into makeshift temporary streams and rivers.
It has been so bad today that the TV news was reporting flooding in some parts of Accra.

The weather might prove one of the challenges to the She Nut initiative.

Today was spent being brought up to speed with how things are going. Everything appears to be in order and if anything we are saving a little money as per the budget. But this is Africa and things could change yet.
Dekontee, Thompson and Dennis have done an incredible amount of work. And have learnt a lot in the process. The lessons are being carefully documented and logged so that we can make the necessary changes.

Though it did not seem so beforehand, it was good on the journey out to spend 3hours in Schiphol airport. It gave me time and opportunity to write emails and catch up on some much needed admin.
The flight itself to Accra was uneventful with the food served also was unmemorable. Typical bland mixture in a tomato source…I think.

The interesting part occurred once I had landed.
Because I had had to apply for a replacement passport and then only have time to get a visa for my Asia trip earlier in the month, I had to apply for a visa on entry. I did this last time too, and there was no problem. But this time there was.

At Immigration I filled in the forms in my best block capital letter handwriting and proceeded to room 2 for processing. Room 2 was looked like the archetypal foreign immigration office from the 1970’s movies. The walls were yellow, though possibly at one time were white or cream. The TV in the corner had a bad signal and every time a plane taxied near the terminal building the picture and sound was lost in a screen of white noise and dancing lines. The air-conditioning unit leaked and the ceiling fan appeared to be a propeller from an old World War II aircraft as it stirred the stale air.
At one end of the room were two desks at right angles to each other. One was the immigration commander and the other a lowly finance clerk. I knew instinctively who was who as one had a phone, the other just a pile of papers and files. Obviously the important guy had the phone. The phone itself was off white also and was an early push button phone. The main body of the phone was in a wooded box with a padlocked lid; so only he who had the key could make calls, but anyone could answer it.
Between them they would decide my fate. Also in the room were chairs down either side of the walls and a collection of Russians sat on them.

The officer took one look at me, took my passport, application, landing form, customs declaration and letter of invitation. He read each carefully. Then he read them again. Then he went through my new passport, page by page, examining each for signs of…I don’t know what.
By this time I was getting a little nervous.
He took the letter of invitation.
He stared at me.
‘Hmm’, he said in what I would describe as a soft Ghanaian official voice full of the relevant authority to send even a hardened illegal immigrant into confessing all his sins, ‘we have a problem, Mr Gregory.’
I asked what the problem was.
He stared at me once again, shook his head and repeated himself, ‘Hmm. We have a problem, Mr Gregory.’
As he raised himself from behind his desk he had the letter of invitation in one hand and his mobile phone in the other. It was the phone which ruined the 1970’s deco & theme; it was just too modern. At this point the thought went through my head: interesting that he did not use the locked phone on his desk. Perhaps even he is not allowed the key!

He began punching the numbers on his mobile as he walked out of the room. Meanwhile I was motioned to by the finance clerk to remain sitting. I did as I was told.

A few moments later the Commander returned. He looked at me and said, ‘Mr Gregory, they are on their way to see me. Now tell me why you did not apply for a visa in the UK?’

I explained that I had been travelling in Asia and was not in the UK long enough to get the visa. Then I asked again, ‘what is the problem?’
He held out my invitation letter and said, ‘this letter is not addressed to me, it is addressed to the Ghanaian Embassy in the United Kingdom. I cannot accept this. So we have a big problem.’

An hour and 2 phone calls later I was still waiting for whoever he had phoned to arrive. I had managed to text Dekontee to warn him of the trouble I was in. But he had not responded.
Then to my total relief, Thompson walked into the room. We greeted each other and grinning he asked me, ‘what have you done now?’
The Commander then interrupted our re-union and spoke to Thompson in hushed tones. He nodded and gestured in the right places because he then turned to me and said, ‘Trev, you have the wrong letter. This is addressed to the UK Ghanaian Embassy and not to the Immigration office at Accra airport. But this time they will overlook this mistake. You are to pay for your visa. They will hold your passport until tomorrow when we must return with the correct letter and an apology.’

I handed over my $100, were given a receipt and we quickly exited the room. I found my cases and together we were waved through customs with no questions asked.
Once outside we had a good laugh…more out of emotional release than anything else.

Yesterday I was sat in someones office which had a piece of paper with a quote from Mario Andreti which read

Quote:

"If everything's under control, you're going too slow.”

Such wisdom put into place at that moment my full feelings, thoughts and emotions.

For the last 4 months I have been working on bringing together and launching Trade Right International. The initial initiative was to set up a business in Ghana harvesting Shea Nuts which would employ 600 women. The business model is a dead simple one...it has to be simple for my tiny little brain.
The mode is to pay people a good price for harvesting, carrying the good to market, selling them and then returning at least 50% of the profits into the local community in development aid.
...and it is this simplicity which has caught the imagination and attention of quite a lot of people!

The initiative was to have been launched on August 1st - that is why I am not on my way to Ghana.
BUT
because of the exceptional harvest, we have had to start earlier than planned. The initiative begun operations 1 weeks ago now, when I was in Cambodia.
AND
it is snowballing.

Our target was 600 women: it seems we have 1000
The District Authority in the Upper East Region are recommending women only harvest for us and not other companies...because we are returning 50% profits in development aid
This area of Ghana has a high rate of human trafficking because it is one the poorest...now 30 women who were contemplating selling one of their children to the traffickers have told us they will not because of the income they now have.

On top of all this, the initiative required £25,000 ($50,000US) of initial capital...and guess what it began without all of it being in place.
And that takes me back yo yesterday and why i was sat staring at the poster on the wall with Mario Andreti dispelling wisdom I coud relate to.
All seemed out of my control because it all happening so fast.

By the close of the day I have hard firm promises that all the funding will be in place by this weekend.

Please pray:
I arrive in Accra this evening and spend tomorrow with the team planning and preparing the next few days. Then on Firday we travel to Bolgatanga and then on to Sandeme.
I have a growing sense of excitment and of humble awe at what God is achieving. After all, I just a simple guy who is still looking for the wild donkey.

The last time I was in Cambodia was February when I had a few days with Pastor Timothy, a young church leader who had planted 6 churches and formed 1 school in 4 years.

Well I am with him again, this time visiting some of the 6 churches. In total he has around 300 people attending. He has 16 volunteer children workers and 4 associate pastors. The churches are spread over quite a large area to the north of Siem Reap.
This afternoon Pastor Timothy and I had a time together and my fiesr question was, 'So, what have you been doing since February when we last met?'
Hi answer was astounding. But was delivered with great humility and not sense of boasting...
'O,' he said, 'i have planted another Church in another village and now has 25 active people and some 80 children.'

Sets you thinking, what have I done since February?

Having travelled from Glasgow to Amsterdam.
Amsterdam to Paris.
Paris to Bangkok.
I am here but ,y luggage is not. So I sit here in Bangkok airport waiting for the next flight to Siam Reap, Cambodia, smelling like a XXX. This might explain why i have this bench to myself and everyone around me is gagging!

It's times like these you realise who your friends are and are thankful non of them are travelling with you to share the smell. It's also at times like these that you begin to wonder the broader theological issues and questions, did the Apostle Paul loose his luggage on his missionary journeys?

Now it must be said I am not claiming to be anyway close in maturity or spiritual stature to Paul, but it is a worhty thought, is it not? I realise too that in his day planes were still a twinkle in God's eye, but did his case go missing as he took the odd ship or two?
And here's the ultimate conundrum, did they offer frequent sailing miles?
Now there's a thought!
Perhaps he was doubly compensated during ship wrecks?

While in Ghana I was given some Moringa seeds and when i got home I panted them. After 4 weeks I have a seedling.


While it has been germinating and growing under cover in Scotland, I've been undertaking some research about this tree. Here's what I've found....
It contains




For humans it has the benefits...


The benefits for animals...


Fed to crops as a fertilzer it can


And it can be grown in some of the world's nations where malnutrician is high.
So, why is it not grown and promoted for it's benefits?



(source www.treesforlife.org)

There are some friendships which are undeterred by distance and unshaken by time. Such friendships are treasure, raw golden nuggets of pure safe friendship.
We are fortunate to have such a store full of friends around the world whom when we meet it's as if distance, time and life experiences inbetween meetings care inconsequential, yet central.
Well, Denice and I have just returned from an evening with friends...and experienced that sense once again.

We first met Mal Gold only weeks after arriving in Hull to take on the responsibility as youth workers for YFC in Hull. He was playing bass guitar in the city centre church we visited which was to become our base fellowship. We soon got to know Mal and others in the Church. But over the years we have kept contact with him.

Mal now lives in Canton, Ohio and is Professor of Sociology at Malone College. His wife, Kathy, was with him on this trip to the UK. They have brought 3 friends along too.

They decided to 'do' Scotland in a day! Hmmm. No further comment. Needless to say it rained, so it was a real Scottish experience they had.

On their return to England from Loch Ness (no monster seen), we met up and had a really enjoyable evening eating Scottish food.

Quote:

Once again Jesus went out beside the lake. A large crowd came to him, and he began to teach them. As he walked along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax collector's booth. 'Follow me,' Jesus told him, and Levi got up and followed him. While Jesus was having dinner at Levi's house, many tax collectors and sinners were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. When the teachers of the law who were Pharisees saw him eating with the sinners and tax collectors, they asked his disciples: 'Why does he eat with tax collectors and 'sinners'?' On hearing this, Jesus said to them, 'It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.' Mark 2:13-17

There is a joke in there and I've only just spotted it!
It's subtle and so easily missable, yet at the same time is so profound, it can change your thinking, reactions, actions ... infact it turns our world upside down. So what did it do to the people in Jesus day?

The OT tells us of how God would restore and heal the people of Isreal and bring them back from exile. An exile which had not ended. And if the exile had not ended, then restoration and healing had not yet come: so expectation of the Messiah was gaining momentum. But what type of Messiah?
One to maintian the status quo between the have's and have-nots in Israel? Probably. But was this politicalrestoration and healing what the OT prophets were all about?

Quote:

Return, O Israel, to the LORD your God. Your sins have been your downfall! Take words with you and return to the LORD. Say to him: Forgive all our sins and receive us graciously, that we may offer the fruit of our lips. Assyria cannot save us; we will not mount war-horses. We will never again say 'Our gods' to what our own hands have made, for in you the fatherless find compassion. I will heal their waywardness and love them freely, for my anger has turned away from them. Hoesea 14:1-4

And then there are those words of Jesus: he said to them,

Quote:

'It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.'

But the words followed his actions:

Quote:

As he walked along, he saw Levi son of Alphaeus sitting at the tax collector's booth. 'Follow me,' Jesus told him, and Levi got up and followed him.

Jesus accepted a guy who was just doing his job; who had not really amounted to much in life; who was not well liked by people. He was a tax collector. A collaborator with the occupying forces. Not someone you invite home to dinner...still less not someone you go home to dinner with.

But that is not the joke.

No the joke is...the minute you think you are good enough for God, God says, 'I'm not intersted in people who are good enough for me.' And the minute you think you are too bad for God, God says, 'It is you I have come for.'

Get it?
To be successful you have to be a failure!

'Lord, make me a successful failure.'

27 years ago in the room next to mine at London Bible College there resided a guy who unbeknown to me at the time was to become a steadfast friend. Mike Warnock.
Even then, back in 1981, he was a burly built guy with the Scottish character to go with it. If my memory serves me right, Mike came for coffee that 1st evening at college; an act which was to become over the next 2 years a regular tradition. He was starting the degree course, while I being of less inteligence, was on the 2 year Cambridge diploma.

Mike and I joined the drama team - as did Denice. Yes that's where we met. There was a friendly banter over Denice at the time, but I won. She stole my heart. Mike, meanwhile, stole my friendship.

On the 1 year eve of our wedding, Denice and I spent the day with Mike and our other friend, Jermey. Jeremy went on to be my Bestman, Mike meanwhile, played just as crucial a role in the Wedding service: he prayed for us. And that is his legacy: Mike was a man who over the years has been a steadfast friend and prayer partner.

Over the past 25 years whenever we have had opportunity to meet up, it's been like rekindling a fond friendship. One which could be picked up at the same point at which it was left.

Right from the early days of LBC Mike - and later his wife Aileen - have constantly been our friends, not my friends. They are friends to Denice and I. This has been demonstrated time and time again over the last 5 years since we have lived in Scotland. Mike and Aileen were in Livingston so we were able to meet up on a more frequent basis. Their love and concern for Denice have at times been a rock for both of us. And he continued to pray for us.

Over recent years Mike has been battling cancer and it has been a real honour for me to be allowed in to watch what God was doing in his life. Last Monday we saw Mike for the last time and he was noble. That's the only way I can describe him: noble. He knew he was facing death and yet it did not phase him. He was noble.

Mike died on Saturday morning.
We have lost a friend and one of our longest prayer partners. This giant noble man has entered into the presence of Christ and now awaits his promised resurection body. He will be missed; but what he has given those who knew him will live on. He embodied 1 Cor 15:54-58...as only a noble man can.

Quote:

When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting? The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labour in the Lord is not in vain. 1Cor 15:54-58.

Here's a selection of video and photos of the Ghana trip.
Enjoy

Buduburam Refugee Camp
The Church Service

Buduburam Church Service.
This Church a few short weeks ago was over 200 strong. Now with the repatriation initiative it is only around 20. The Pastor expects the church to close by the middle of June.


Link


Vocational Training School
This vocational training school was started in the camp by Liberian christians to prepare young men and women in helping to rebuild their nation once the civil war was ended.

Here students - male and female - learn brick laying.


Plumbing


Architectual drawing and planning
Other courses and classes include: tayloring, car mechanics, agriculture, and electrical work.


Many of the students are former child soldiers. As part of their education and training, the school offers them trauma counselling.
Over the last 7 years it has trained over 900 students. Most of them have already returned to Liberia and have begun the task of rebuilding their homeland. Now the vocational school is wanting to relocate back to Liberia. They have been given land and some funding to build, but still require £12,000 to transport all their equipement and staff to Liberia.

Edward's Story


He fled the Liberian civil war in 1990 and went to live in the Ivory Coast. When Ivory Coast degenerated into civil war he fled again; this time to the Buduburam camp in Ghana. He arrived in the camp in 2003.
He last saw his parents when he was 17 in 1990. He did not know if they were dead or alive until 3 months ago. By change he met someone from his village and was given a number to contact his mother. During that phone conversation he learned his father had died just 4 weeks previously.
Edward is now married and has three children. They plan to return to Liberia over the next 6-8 weeks.
His story is typical of many on the camp.

School In Chiaina

The next series of photos are of the Chiaina School.


These 6-7 year olds are learning to read. The school is grossly under resourced. They have 1 poster for 30 children in this basic reading class!


Having school outside might look good to us, but what happens in the rainy season? No school that's what!


The Chiaina School only has 3 classrooms...which are not purpose built. The local authority has given permission for a school to be built and has given land. BUT no funds are available. £50,000 would build 8 classrooms; equip it; and go some way to pay teachers for 1 year.

Meeting Women in Sandema


This is the Queen Mother. She is a key figure, appointed by the Chief to look after the women in the surrounding villages


Around 35 women attended the meeting and they represented more than 300 women from their various villages.


They listen to our presentation and plans to help them in developing a Shea Nut collection busisness which would pay them and give back profits into their local communites for development and aid work.

After hearing they spontaenously burst into song.

Link

Today you are in for a feast as here are the missing the promised blogs....ENJOY

Liberia might now be at peace, but still many of its people are refugees in neighbouring countries like Nigeria, Togo, and Ghana.

One of the guys helping me set up the Shea Project, Dekontee, is from Liberia and is himself a refugee from the awful conflict which engulfed the country for 18 years. If you have seen the film Blood Diamond you will remember the relationship between Sierra Leone and Liberia…they are inextricably linked through history. Both have huge natural resources of gold, silver and diamonds. But with such natural beauty resources of great worth comes great human greed. In both nations the conflicts, which saw many of their own people maimed and killed, was continually fuelled by the control and worth of such natural resources.

Buduburam Refugee Camp was home to some 55,000 Liberians who fled the conflict or, like Dekontee, were prevented from returning home. Today with a government of national unity and stability for the last 3 years, the UNHCR is helping people repatriate home. With the success of repatriation increasing by the day, the camp now is home to around 25,000-30,000 people.

This morning I attended a church service in the camp and as we travelled through the camp Dekontee told me a little of what life is like living as a refugee.
For many they only had the clothes they were wearing when they began the journey from Liberia. Often times rebels or government forces would enter a village, burn the houses, rape the women, and take the young boys to be child soldiers. As soon as they heard the approaching forces the villages would run into the bush. At this point children would be separated from their parents. In Buduburam today, Dekontee estimates that there are still some 20,000 people who do not know if their parents are dead or alive. He also commented to me that at one time over 15,000 former child soldiers were hiding in the camp.

Once they had gained access to the camp, the refugees were given a pitch and some food aid. Like most refugees, they were forbidden to work in and so relied on each other, foreign aid agencies and extended family members at home in Liberia or in the West, for support and finance. Dekontee told me, ‘you woke each day not knowing what that day would bring. If you had no food for you or your family, then much of the day was spent visiting friends and extended family members to see if they had some to spare.’

At the church service the there were under 20 people present. Just a few short months ago it had over 200 in attendance. The reason for the decline was the repatriation programme. It was the only time I’ve been pleased to see a church close! At home in Scotland, closure of a church is more often than not due to declining numbers also. The difference is in the UK the church is not repatriating to where people are; it is just closing the doors because of irrelevance. The church meanwhile in Liberia is growing and is wanting to be at the forefront of its nations rebuilding and healing efforts – right where the church should be.

I fully realize that by entering this Blog some of my readers will consider me mad. That as it maybe, but even a madman could not surely dream of what I have just witnessed? I write 'dream', this is No way implies that mad people - male or female - are in a dreamlike state of animation; I use the word to be subtle and cozy before my reader; before I hit you with the hard reality of my latest experience.

Presently I am in Accra, Ghana. My exact location I cannot give. This is not to protect the innocent or conversely to dodge this point info fudge and counter fudge (a job I’ll leave to the professionals, Messer Brown, Bosh and Mugabe). I cannot give my precise location because I do not know it! All I can say is, I am two taxi rides from the STC bus depot and that the sun rises in the east at 05.30rs and sets in the west at 18.30hrs.

My hotel room is basic. Clean; yes but basic. The walls are of an off emulsion white. I suspect at one time it was white, but there are few traces of the original colour now. The windows and doors do not fit right: they have warped and contorted into imaginative shapes. But this aside, there is a shower which works; a toilet that flushes; a mirror to shave by: a bed (lumpy) to sleep on; and of course, air conditioning.

This morning I had a visitor; well two actually. One is no stranger, to many of my Blog readers as he is a close associate of mine, Haggi Angus McCloud of Pickettillum. It was a surprise to see him here - as much us a surprise for you to read of him once again. He Is in Ghana to attend and speak at the World Convention of Haggi. What I did not know is that Haggi are not an exclusive spiritual mentor to the Scottish haggis, but seem to appear in many nations, cultures, tribes and ethnic groups across the globe. Haggi Angus, however, is perhaps the most famous spiritual guide, mentor and theologian in this Northern Hemisphere. So it goes without saying that he receivers many invitations from around the world.

Entering into my room behind Haggi Angus was a Ghanaian, Haggi Fufu Archibald Bowinga. Whereas Haggi Angus looks - and is - a Haggis, Haggi Fufu was definitely a lizard. Scurrying across the floor, dressed in an amazingly vibrant yellow tunic, Haggi Fufu sat next to Haggis Angus, in the chair opposite my bed.

As anyone who has had a conversation with a Haggi can tell you, introductions are an important feature of their culture and tradition for Haggi; so they can take up some considerable time…a lot of time. They consist of elaborate language which Is constantly punctuated with rhymical clapping. However, from the introduction I did learn that Haggi Fufu was a West African spiritual guide and mentor. Intact by the tones and nuances used by Haggi Angus as he presented Haggi Fufu, I could tell there was a lot of mutual respect between them.

Following these protracted introductions, they both settled and carried on in my hearing a discussion which had obviously began some time earlier. Piecing fragments together, I got a sense they were discussing the meaning of the ascension. They were both bemoaning the reality of how the ascension has been downplayed by many today.

‘What happens when you downplay or ignore the ascension?’ asked Haggi Angus in a rhetorical way, but was immediately seized upon by Haggi Fufu.

‘O dear Haggi, the answer is so obvious; the church expands itself to fill the vacuum. We witness an uncontrollable rise in vain and empty triumphalism where the Great Haggi is more or less identified as the church. You see we then reduce talk of Jesus to equate to and mean his presence with his people.’

‘Exactly,’ clipped in Haggi Angus and continued to run with the discussion, ‘he becomes embedded in the church to the extent that one is synonymous with the other. A sad situation. Not only does the Great Haggi loose his identity, but also the church looses hers. And with a loss of identity there inevitably comes a loss of purpose and focus on calling. Instead the focus for the church becomes ‘how great we are.’

As Haggi Angus pondered this for a second, Haggi Fufu grabbed the initiative and took the discussion further, ‘Then any talk of the ascension quickly degenerates into meaning and easy talk for the Great Haggi being everywhere. The church has then presented itself, instead of presenting the Great Haggi as Lord and itself as the world’s servant; as Haggi Paul writes, ‘for we do not preach ourselves, but the Great Haggi as Lord, and ourselves as your servant.’

The conversation was defiantly like observing a friendly sparing match between two great thinkers. As Haggi Fufu made his point, Haggi Angus rose to the next hit. ‘And the other side of triumphalism is of course despair. If you put all your eggs into the church = Jesus basket, what you are left with when, as Haggi Paul says in the same tome, we ourselves are to be found as cracked earthen ware vessels. Only when we grasp firmly that the church is not Jesus and Jesus is not the church: when we grasp the undeniable meaning of the ascension – that the one who is indeed present with us by the Spirit is also the Great Haggi Lord who is strangely absent.’

Coming again with a gush of further thoughts, Haggi Fufu took flight, ‘Yes, you are so right, Haggi Angus. He is strangely absent, strangely other, strangely different from us. He is the one who tells the Mary Magdalene not to cling to him. Only when we capture this truth are we rescued from empty triumphalism on the one hand and, as you say, shallow despair on the other.’

There was a thoughtful pause and then quite quietly Haggi Angus concluded, ‘the Lordship of the Great Haggi is the fact that there is already a human being at the helm of the world; his present intercession for us; all this is over and above his presence with us. And the mystery of the ascension is that it is of course just that, a mystery. It speaks of the undeniable fact of two localities ‘heaven’ and ‘earth.’ These localities are not related to each other within the same time-space continuum; nor about a non-physical over a physical one. No, the Great Haggi Book speaks of two different kinds of what we call space, or matter, and possibly what we call time.’

In a recent Blog I mentioned how difficult guidance was: no matter what your age or supposed or perceived Christian maturity. Connected and entwined with this has been my pondering over recent weeks to the little insertion made my Matthew at the close of his gospel.

Jesus had instructed the disciples to meet him in Galilee on a certain mountain (Mtt 28:16) – and probably for the 1st time they seem to have obeyed without questioning. Some speculate that it was the same mountain that the Sermon on the Mount was first delivered way back in Matthew chapter 5. But hey, who can tell for sure, it sounds good though!

Anyways they arrive and after a while Jesus is among them. We are not told what mode of transport he used, but one thing is for sure, he did not travel via Terminal 5 at Heathrow. How do I know such a thing? Because at this time it was still in the Public Enquiry stage and the fight was on between Virgin Atlantic and BA over who could use it.

But I digress.
When the disciples saw him, Mathew reports, they worshipped him – and here’s the intriguing detail – ‘but some doubted.’ (Mtt 28:17)
What they doubted and who doubted we do not know for sure. But my hunch is that Matthew was one of those who did doubt – after all it’s not something you admit talk about in public. Yet he inserts it here into his gospel. Perhaps it was his way of giving personal testimony!

So, here’s the scene: the disciples are having an open-air worship service with Jesus in their midst. They are all worshipping and while worshipping some were at the same time doubting. Incredible!
Yet in some small way I can seriously identify with them. Many is the time when I am about to preach and at the same time am having some doubt or other about my sermon, it’s content, my own spirituality, life, the universe or just about anything.
In the first worship service which we know of since the resurrection of Jesus, doubt was present. Human naked raw doubt.

Perhaps some still doubted that Jesus was indeed raise from the dead and was the first fruits of the resurrection. After all they were having to re-write their Jewish theology at warp speed, Mr Zulu. They had gone in being taught since knee high to a grass hopper that all Israel would be resurrected at the same time and now that the Messiah had come he had been resurrected first.
Hmm, time for some shifting in theology me thinks, Yoda.

Perhaps some doubted and questioned what would happen next. OK so Jesus had been resurrected, but what of the future? Was there a place for them? After all they had not understood about Jesus teaching on his own death so far. Would he want to associate with a bunch of failures, deserters, and thick heads? So far their track record was not too great, so perhaps some were justified in their doubting.

In an apparent ignoring of their doubts, Jesus gives the famous Great Commission to go.
But did he ignore their doubts?
Was not the very fact that he did not raise the issues a signal that it was OK to have them. Doubts cannot only paralyse into non action, but also and conversely spur you on to achieve: to prove them wrong, if you please.
By Jesus not addressing the doubts head on, surely he was acknowledging that doubts – faith doubts, future doubts, character doubts, personal doubts, in fact any doubts - can be accommodated in the Kingdom of God?
Furthermore, is it not therefore an encouraging and comforting thing that those who doubted were the ones who carried the gospel on and outward into all the world? Right from the beginning it was not resting on the successful or beautiful people, but rather on the doubters, failures and weak.
If that is true there is room for me.

For me, my faith lives somewhere between trusting and doubt. Its intensity is shaped and coloured by grief, hope, failure, passion and despair. The assurance of being party to the continual process of redemption, reconciliation, and a daily – if not at times minute by minute – conforming to the likeness of Christ, counter balances my doubt and makes it bearable.

After a gruelling 15 hour bus journey from Accra to Bolgatanga in the North East of Ghana, we then had another 2 hours car journey to our accommodation, arriving at 02.30hrs this morning. After a short sleep, we were on the road again by 08.00hrs visiting different people throughout the area.

I am here in Ghana to investigate starting up a Shea Nut Collection project. Shea Nuts are used extensively in the cosmetics industry and also in some famous brand chocolate. (They like us to feel beautiful on the inside as well as the out!). Shea trees grow wild in this part of Ghana. In fact there is a belief that to plant a Shea tree will bring death. So no plantations; they grow wild for mile upon mile upon mile.

The harvest is between August to February each year and, like most hard things is life, is carried out by the women. They leave their homes and villages, go out into the vast countryside and forage for the nuts which have dropped to the ground. Filling sacks, buckets and just about anything, they take the raw nuts home. Here they boil them to get the outer shell off. Then the brown nut is left to dry in the baking heat. Once dried, which can take up to 2 days, the women collect them together once again and carry them on their head to market. Remember these are poor women who cannot afford the luxury of a bus or taxi, so they walk to market twice a week carrying their produce on their head. One woman I met today told me she has to walk around 3 hours each way to market. Imagine carrying a 85kg bags of nuts on your head for 3 hours!

Once at market they get £15 for the nuts…that’s £15 for 4 days work!

The nuts are then driven in truck loads to Accra where they are now worth £25 a sack. By the time they reach Europe and the USA they are worth £50 a sack and once processed into Shea Butter the value increases beyond measure to around £15 a kilo.

Earlier this year when I first heard about this, I had the idea of somehow helping these rural women in some way. Following some extended research and discussions with various people in Ghana – and to cut a long story short – I am now here to see if my plan would actually work…

After visiting some Shea Nut trees and seeing for myself the bountiful nature of them, I went off for an audience with the Ghanaian Governments North East Regional Deputy Minister, Mrs Chigabatia.



With me was Dekontee, Thompson and Dennis – three great guys who have been helping me over the last few months muddle through and clarify my thinking. I explained that what we wanted to do was establish a project to help the women by us collecting the nuts from the women rather than have them walk miles carrying them; that we would pay them the market rate but then after we have transported them to Accra we would return with at least 50% of the profits for use in development work in the women’s local community…and that the women would decide which development initiatives they wanted the money to go to.

Anyways, after explaining the idea to the Deputy Minister she without hesitation proclaimed, ‘You have my full support. I will do anything in my power to help you make this happen and be a great success…Now, I am in touch and visit many village women’s associations throughout the whole region. You tell me what areas you will target for collection and I will ensure these groups work with you…I am so excited that you will be empowering these women and not exploiting them in the way they have been so far. Praise God. Amen.’

With that endorsement ringing in our ears we then went to meet with one women’s association in a local village. Earlier in the day Thompson had explained the idea to his sister who was the village’s ‘Queen Mother’. She had immediately insisted that I meet with the women. At the start of the meeting around 30 had assembled, by the end of the meeting their number had swelled to around 45. I was told each represented up to 10 women.

Once again, this time with the aid of an interpreter, the idea was outlined to them. There was then a brief time of questions. Then they spontaneously broke out into singing and dancing.

It was amazing. Even our taxi driver got in on the dancing and singing!
Following this the women came over and shock our hands to thank us for such a wonderful idea. Each was smiling; some were crying with tears of joy.

The sobering thing is…now comes the hard part: making it all a reality.

This entry if from Ghana. I am in Accra just opposite the Buduburam Refugee Camp in an internet cafe...and i have a problem.
Not only have i been out of email contact for a week nw, but also out of internet connection too. The net result of these to catastrophies is that i will have 100s of emails to answer and have a backlog of Blog entires to make!
I was hoping to enter some now, and so have been writing and saving them to my USB memory stick. But guesss what? The machines in this place are s old they are pre USB. Now if I had them on floppy disc, that would have been better.
I guess that's showing my age, using an antiquated term, floppy disc. A vintage from computer history.
So you will have to wait at east another day or so before i can post. but when i do, have a coffee ready as ive been quite prolific.

So you will have to wait to read of how Haggi Angus came visiing and introduced a friend; of why i was on a bus for 15 hours to the north east of the country; and about the refugee camp church service i attended. As ever its been quite an eventful trip.

Today has been spent down in the port of Accra, Tema. There we met with someone who is willing to help us in the project we are establishing here. It was very exciting (more on the project in another Blog. But suffice to say here it will involve some 600 women from rural villages and a rather large quantity of nuts). After that i spent some time collecting registration forms from the Registrar General.

One, one other thing happened. The project might be needing a 4x4, so we went to a garage to get prices. They saw me coming - a white man that is - because the price for a 10 year old Rav 4 shot up to $180,000. White man made of money!

One thing I’ve learnedis that with age guidance does not get any easier! Well this might be that if i was really honest, i have to keep learning as i seem to have the guidance learning span equivalent to a gold fish; or perhaps it is an age thing... Either way the bottom line is the same: guidance does not get any easier but decidedly more complex.

One tihng is for sure, life has its seasons. They might not follow to the letter the spring, summer, autumn, winter pattern, but the basic principles of each season are constantly present.
Autumn brings closure and death to life periods.
Winter gives opportunity for secret growth, hibernation and preparation.
Spring is when new life bursts forth.
Summer is for action and achievement.

A months ago I was convinced that the present seasons Denice and I were in transition from one season to the next. But the last month has brought a rude awakening with the realisation that this was not quite the case. Well, not in the way we anticipated, planned or were dreaming.

However, while in the USA we had time to stop and reflect and came to realise that at this juncture we need time ‘to be’ without major stress. It’s rather like the River Clyde which we look out over. During the winter the river is rough and some days the ferries cannot venture out. Then at other times the river is as calm as a mill pond and boats and ships go about their business with a degree of laziness and ease. In my mind we need some ‘mill pond time’ and that means not moving or relocating. Therefore, this was the major reason we declined the offer of work for an agency we were talking to.

So where does this leave us?
More soon...

Not seeing the hands on a clock move, but all the time you know they are ticking away the time is like in British cars where you do not see the petrol guage moving. But in the grand old USofA you can actually watch the petrol guage glide down to 0 as you drive.

Now this is a little distracting as you hurtle past an eight wheeler truck (lorry)on the freeway (motorway) at just below the legal speed limit (65mph). But then again, in these point and shoot cars you need to do something with the boredom of driving using only the right side of the body.

As a virgin at driving here in the colony, and only the 2nd time for driving an automatic, it all got a bit much for me today as I needed - also for the 1st time - to fill up with gas (petrol). Unfortunately it was not helium or laughing gas...here's why:

I choose my filling station with caution and continued until I was sure at the 'chosen one' they would speak English. So BP (British Petrolium) was my best bet. But there the link with the old country ended.

I drove to the pump, popped open the tank door on the side of the car and in my best John Wayne swagger approached the pump itself.

It read 'Self.'
I summised that it meant it was a self-service pump.

I checked for instructions and found only the words, 'select payment type,' which was either payment via debit card at the pump or inside. I choose at the pump with debit card.

Immediately the screen flashed to life and read, 'insert card.'
I did as instructed.
The screen read, 'remove card.'
I did as instructed.
It read, 'insert card.'
I did as instructed.
The screen read, 'remove card.'
I did as instructed.
It read, 'insert card.'
I did as instructed.
Then read, 'remove card.'
I did as instructed. Though this time I had a sense somethig was not quite right.

So I pressed the cancel button and then selected 'pay inside.'
The screen read,' wait a moment.'
It did.
In fact I stood there for many moments and still it read, 'wait a moment.'
After some more moments I saw a help button. I pressed it.
A disembodied voice with a Southern accent drawled, 'Yup'

'O hi,' I cherpted in my best British, 'This machine is telling me to wait a moment and I have been for many moments now.'

'Well just wait some more' said the womans voice.

So I did.

After waiting for what seemed like a presidential term of office, I pressed the help call button again.
'Erm excuse me,' I apologetically said, 'I'm still waiting my moment to pass.'

There was a pause for yet another Georgia moment.
Then came the instruction, 'well you supposed to come in here and pay before you deliver the gas.' It was said in a tone of voice which had behind it, 'Hay, Mertle, we got us some foreign gent here and he don't know what he's doin.'

'Ah' was all I could muster as I duly went into pay.
During the payment transaction I tried to explain that this was my 1st time at filling up a car with gas in the USA. But the look I got was one of total disbelief.

Meanwhile, I had a car full of giggling women laughing at my fate or cultural collide.

There must be some spiritual meaning to this.
Hmmm...it will be a great story to tell in the next sermon! Beware

Kendall and Antonia made a video of our crib today.
Here's the result.

Link

Link

Just had a great evening with Ross and Jane.
They are great hosts and we are learning so much new vocab from them. Our American accents are improving vastly.

Kendall now knows the difference between tomato and tomato.
Today we are giving retail therapy a break and going to be tourists...

We landed in Atlanta 30 minutes late. It then took over 2 hours to clear security, collect and re-deposit our luggage, re-collect it and find the exit!


("Not now, Mum. My make-up's all smudged.")

Still our greatest shockwas what the Passport Control Officer said. There we were being pleasant to him, allowing him to scan or finger prints and take our photo's when his equipment crashes. Rather than be agitated by it, he looks at us and begins talking away about his family and stuff. While he is waiting for his computer to reboot, he asks where we will be staying.
We answer 'Tyrone.'
'Ha,'He laughs, 'there's nothing there apart from cows. so what you going to be doing in Tyrone?'
Joining in his jovial mannor I say we are here on holiday and for some serious retail therapy.
He laughs again and proclaims, 'they ain't not malls in Tyrone. Maybe a few strip malls, but nothing fancy.'

It's now that we are really shock by his use of language. Here we are husband and wife with their young 16 year old daughter with her best friend; we are tired after the flight and journey; and here is the Passport guy telling us about some strip club venues!

At the time we contained our shock, looked at each other and laughed along with his. It was only later that we talked about it and realised at the time we all had the same picture going through our minds of a row of strip clubs...like the row of sex shops you see in Amsterdam.

But the lesson was the cultural difference and use of language. Yet again it is an example of how our colonial friends have distorted the Queens language.

But it did not end there. He went on and told us how the only thing to do in Tyrone was Cow Tipping.
Not knowing what Cow Tipping was, we all must have looked at him rather blankly. Actually, I think my look was one of further confusion as I was wondering what sexual expoilt Cow Tipping was a euphamism. But he went onto explain - much to my relief - that Cow Tipping is the game of pushing cows over at night when they sleep.

Strange colonials.

Having had some calls from various readers complaining that it had been sometime since last I entered some thoughts and musing or indeed anything on the Blog: I thought I had better get tapping away on the keyboard to rectify things.

Kendall (16 years going on 25; single and good looking) has been feeling rather sorry for herself over the last few days as she has an eye infection. And, though she is female, is certainly milking the sympathy. According to all the media reports and stereotype projections, I thought ti was the male of the species who milked for sympathy when ill - although, this could be another sign of the breakdown of the sexes and of society in general. I mean how can our Great British culture be preserved without the stoical woman behind every weak-kneed man?

Once again I digress.
Anyways, this is by way of background as to why I was sat watching Braveheart last night with Kendall. She needed someone to cuddle her.

William Wallace, aka Braveheart, was born around these parts of Scotland. But the folly of the film is the distinct lack of rain. Now there is some, a few drops here and there, but the film fails to show with great realism the true nature of the weather in Scotland. It rains. And here in the West it stops only to replenish the clouds before starting again. Then there is the wind. After all you cannot have one without the other: like Jeckle & Hyde; Bobby & Clyde; Ronnie Barker and Ronnie Corbet; or Fred & Ginger – wind and rain go hand in hand in these parts. They are an inseparable duo and one encourages the other continually.

So, when William Wallace was hung, drawn and quartered before being beheaded, his last word would have echoed around the Glens of Scotland a lot more dramatically if in the film they had filmed locally and enlisted as extras at no extra cost to the budget, the local wind and rain. His last word? FREEDOM

It's 21 years ago yesterday that the snow and ice fell heavily in Beverely, near Hull.
In fact when each of the children were born it snowed. For Caragh it was heavy and the water pipes froze in the house. For Luke, it was not so heavy, but snow all the same. And for Kendall, there was just a smattering, or dusting like sugar on a cake.

Anyways, Denice and I spent yesterday wondering where 21 had gone. On the inside we both only feel 21 oursleves still. Judging by the photo taken last night of us all together - the 1st family photo by the way in some 5 years - i look young and spritly as I did then...in my dreams at least.

Here in the land of the everygreen Haggis, it's becoming more the norm to celebrate becoming 18 than 21. So last night was a quiet family affair in a Mexican restaurant.

Good food, good company.

Don't you think Denice looks good?

Greetings from Switzerland.
I came into the country under cover of darkness with Cadbury Chocolate Mini-Eggs. My aim to convert these poor people in believing that their chocolate is inferior to Cadbury's. Which I firmly believe it is!

This morning in a locked room with 25 students at the Arts Ministry School, it took me a mere 4 hours to convince them of not only Cadbury's superiority in chocolate making but also to British superiority in the humour stakes too. Having never met a Swiss person with a sense of humour, all they have to look forward to is a triangle of toblerone while humming Edelweiss (which is Austrian anyway) or playing in an umpa band.

The Students at the Arts Ministry School (www.ministryschool.ch) are here for 12 months training and discipleship in worship and the arts. They are a lively group.

I am here to give a series of teaching on Jesus and the Kingdom of God.
My openning question got them searching this morning, when I asked them to tell me the purpose of Jesus coming.
It's one of those questions which sets people buzzing because the initial response is, 'i know the answer to this.' But after further scrutiny they see that perhaps there assumptions are not entirely right.

Anyways a good time is being had and the Cadbury Mini-eggs are going well.

But then, perhaps we should not be eating chocolate at all, after all did Jesus?

And while you ponder that one, let me mention here some feedback I've received. You see some think that I'm well off and am leading a lavish lifestyle! Someone mentioned to me recently that this was the impression I had left with one person as I had a small sized laptop and carried an ipod. My friend put him right by telling him how I try to purchase as much as possible second-hand off eBay and that my computer, while has only a 12" screen, is infact around 4 years old. And the ipod? Well that was bartered for when I was in the US one time.

I guess I should confess here to paying recently a mere £15 ($30US) for a new bluetooth headset for my mobile phone. You see my old one refused to charge - no matter how many mini-eggs I offered it. So after investigating for a new one I searched eBay for a deal. One I spotted was on a bid at £25 and a Buy-It-Now for £150. It was a limited edition 24 carat gold plated slimline headset and a designer label to boot. I watched with interest and saw that no one was bidding. So I bid and won!

I then received a £10 voucher from eBay for being a star and not having any negative feedback. So I used it against my £150 headset which I had won for £25 and so paid only £15.

The problem is now everyone will not only think I am a poser but also mega rich.

So, did Jesus eat chocolate?
And here's another question: did he buy an expensive headset of eBay cheap: and if he did would he have just paid the full amount anyway?

Trev - on a campaign fro more cadbury chocolate in Switzerland.

I had an email from my friend in Kenya, Robert.
He expressed in a few lines a pattern of thought which I often go through:

Quote:

I have often found myself wishfully thinking that if I ever won the lottery, I would be able to endow the church and help the needy. In my more reflective moments, however, I realize that it is a mistake to thlnk that I would do more if only I had more money, or more time, or more talent. I realize this is merely an excuse for doing nothing. Instead of dreaming about what I would do if I had a million dollars, my time would be more productively spent doing the best I can with what I already possess. I was just thinking loudly Trev. I feel that I should always try and fail instead of failing to try.

What is so amazing that someone thousands of miles away, in a different culture, facing different economic and politically diffent situations...has the same thoughts as I.
And what is even more amazing that his final statement is the same one by which I operate and live...

Quote:

I feel that I should always try and fail instead of failing to try.

Imagine if all Christians lived this way.
No hang on a minute, why limit it to only people of faith?
Imagine if all PEOPLE lived this way. Then maybe, perhaps more of humanity would unite, come together and learn to live life to the full. And in doing so, Christ would be glorified.

A regular pastime of mine is to ask, 'is that right?'
I tend to have this question continually buzzing around my head or orbiting close-by. To be honest, I'm not too sure where it originally came from, or perhaps I've just forgotten because it was on one of those 2000 brain cells which I lose everyday. Either way, the origins are lost in the myths of time and I'm stuck with it. Well, I say I’m stuck with it, the question that is until it is part of the 2000 cell quota to be lost on a particular day. Being over 40 is such_____________ (complete in no fewer than 10 worlds).

Sometimes it's a positive question which leads me to search and ask deeper of issues and situations. Like the time when I asked, 'is it right that some are healed and others now? From there I began my search for the one who set the wild donkey free (See Job 39:5).

At other times it verges on and tips me into an avalanche of cascading cynicism which often ends in mental gymnastics of sarcasm and other such low forms of wit. Like the time when I reviewed a Christian book and made the suggestion that it was not even useful as recycled toilet paper! So it does need to be kept in check…when I remember.

Of course sometimes I doubt my question and wonder if I should be questioning at all. After all, millions of Christians around the world seem to have an unquestioning faith and are quite at ease with the fact. So why am I inflicted in such a way?

Recently I heard a preacherman speaking on Mark 7-8:30 and my question screamed at me throughout, ‘is he right: did Peter know what he was confessing in Mark 8:29?’ His main argument was that Peter confessed Christ as Lord and did so in the way that ‘we’ would recognise it. Further he maintained that Peter did not base his confession on the miracles and signs which Jesus had performed in the proceeding chapter. Is this right?

Another way of reading this passage is that:

1. Peter’s confession was actually based on the signs and wonders as he thought that Jesus was the archetypal Messiah which the Jews commonly thought would be coming. Remember most were looking for a political and spiritual Messiah. One who would perform miracles as proofs of his Messiahship.
2. Unfortunately the preacherman stopped short of Mark 8: 32 where is says that Peter took Jesus aside and rebuked him for now not confirming his earlier confession and belief to the type of Messiah they were expecting. This then begs the question what did Peter confess? The danger is we imprint onto Peter our theological nuances which are from this side of the cross: nuances which Peter would not have had for some time to come when he made his confession.

Earlier today I was back in Mark’s gospel and happened to be in said same passage, Mark 8:22-30, and came across this from NT Wright:

Quote:

It’s vital to be clear at this point. Calling Jesus the ‘Messiah’ doesn’t mean calling him ‘divine’, let alone ‘the second person of the Trinity.’ Mark believes Jesus was and is divine, and will eventually show us why; but this moment in the gospel story is about something else. It’s about the politically dangerous and theologically risky claim that Jesus is the true King of Israel, the final heir to the throne of David, the one before whom Herod Antipas and all other would be Jewish princelings are just shabby imposters. The disciples are not expecting a divine redeemer; they were longing for a king. And they thought they had found one.’

Is it me?
Am I wrong to question?
Or perhaps, God is big enough to take my questions; absorb them; and be stimulated by my curiosity. That or else he'll zap me one day when I least expect it!

Posted By: Update

0 Comments (leave your comment)

For the last 3 days I've been in Crowborough, London, in various intense meetings with World In Need: International. But last night I had a little respite from the series of meetings when I met someone who makes, creates and distributes what one person termed Blasphemous Bookmarks!

I'm not too sure how old Margaret is, but she is definately over 21 years....and more than 3x over. But this frail looking lady has a fiesty sense of humour and - as I discovered - a great encouraging ministry.

You see, along with one of the Board members, Richard, from World In Need, I called into a Church Lent Bible Study which we thought finished at 9.00pm. Richard was to give Margaraet a lift home. But the meeting had not ended. At 9.00pm they were just breaking out into small discussion groups to talk about the the Vicar's talk - which we had missed.

So, not wanting to appear too unspiritual or feeling left out, Richard and I tagged along with Margaret and joined the small group.

I sat in silance for some of the time as I guaged what the discussion was about and what was being contributed. The talk was obviously on the need for the Church members to be involved more and more with the Churches evangelism programme. But the group felt - Margaret in particular that the Vicar was pushing too hard on evangelism being a programme and not a lifestyle. She really did get into it and was taking the Church to task. And to be honest, she was right - particularly when you place what she said in the wider UK Church culture and practice. Evangelism is relegated to a programme: organised and at times sterile.

But for Margaret this was not just cold pontificating. Margaret is a woman who takes what she says seriously and began showing us from her own life that evangelism was a liftsyle not a programme.

She spoke of how she prayed that each day she would meet someone to share and talk about Jesus with...and God answered her prayers: daily. Therefore, she concluded, if evangelism is a lifestyle, then the Church had a responsibility to teach, train, engage and disciple its members into evangelism, not programmes.

She then pulled out a Bookmark and with a mischevious grin read it to us, asking the question, 'is this a blasphemous bookmark?'
Margaret has a unique ministry...each week she creates and prints bookmarks. Each has a picture and verse. Each is given away to anyone she meets and who God directs her to speak to.

This week, however, she had created a new type. The Blasphemous Bookmark.

Two men who had had high powered well paid jobs were in her home decorating. They had been made redundant and now they decorated pensioners homes. But they have heard people gossiping about them and looking down on them because they were now 'just' Decorators.

On hearing this, Margaret had been reminded of her dialy reading passage from Exodus 31. She had an idea and made the two men a bookmark.
It read:

Quote:

Then the LORD said....See I have chosen (name of the 1st Decorator), and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability and knowledge in all kinds of crafts to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze,to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds of craftsmanship. Moreover, I have appointed (name of the 2nd Decorator), to help him.

Brilliant isn't it?
And so encouraging.

At this point I could not keep quiet. Margaret was spot on. I put forward the idea that evangelism is not about converting people, but revealing Jesus to people so they make a response. So is evangelism something only to be done towards the unconvereted? Or is it the 'drawing people to Jesus' - which means it is for all - unconverted and converted?

At times I need to be reminded to draw near to God and follow Christ. Especially when involved in intense never ending meetings.

Thanks, Margaret

Below is an unedited article I was asked to submit to the World EA: Mission Commission on short-term / long-term mission mobilisation.
---
Rather than re-hashing the aged debate whether or not we should be engaged in short-term mission, the fact is it happens and it’s here to stay! Therefore, more fundamental , and perhaps at this time more crucial, is the urgent need for a pragmatic doctrine of mission which we use in our mission mobilisation efforts. Therefore, when ‘short-term’ mission meets such a shattering event as we saw occur in Afghanistan last August, and when events (in either short-term or long-term mission) seem to move towards similar experiences in other parts of the world, a doctrine of mission, and in particularly of mission mobilisation, must be robust enough to keep standing and to absorb the subsequent shockwaves.

Such a doctrine would go far beyond the current ‘codes of best practices’, which by their very essence are directed at recruitment, marketing, service and aftercare. In short they are geared towards the ‘customer’ and are by and large a response to the need to offer good ‘customer service.’ But in our rush towards offering an improved customer experience in mission, we have perhaps begun to forget our motivation for mission in the first place. Hence the need for a re-establishing of a doctrine of mission which is fit for the 21st Century.

In order to lay the foundations for rebuilding the doctrine of mission, there are four markers which we need to recognise, examine and consciously acknowledge as faults in our mobilisation and practice of mission.
The four markers are:
• Chronological Snobbery
• Denial of History
• Simplified Discipleship
• Juggernaut Gospel
Once identified, these markers will then go onto form the basis of a robust doctrine of mission which can be used in our mobilisation.

Chronological Snobbery
Chronological snobbery is a logical fallacy coined between friends C. S. Lewis and Owen Barfield describing the erroneous argument that the thinking, art, or science of an earlier time is inherently inferior when compared to that of the present. This ‘doctrine of progression’ has since the middle of the 18th century, shaped and moulded the Western worldview. When entering a different culture we find it difficult to view this cult of progress with detachment or fail to shake it from our minds. Such an idea that mankind is progressing and improving is culturally unknown in many parts of the world, and is certainly not the story the Bible tells.

Today it has evolved still further and has taken on more the popular prevailing worldview that there is a ‘developed’ and ‘developing’ world: and that all of humankind is from one or the other. If you are from the ‘developed’ world then you have something to offer, to give. If from the larger ‘developing’ group of nations, then you have to receive our knowledge, skills, Biblical teaching and gospel. The demarcation lines are clearly drawn: one gives, the other receives: one teaches, the other learns.

I have often witnessed Europeans impose this doctrine on other cultures: especially the Global South and so fail to see with untarnished eyes the diversity and richness of other different cultures. Ours, after all, is the culture of progress and look how wealthy we are; how our choices are improved; and how developed we are. It is often acutely prevalent in short-term mission when team members seek out ‘home-comforts’ while entering situations with the attitude that their ‘advanced’ society is better and more superior. Meanwhile, it’s witnessed in long-term mission as patronising and disempowering view towards the inferior indigenous local believers.

All mobilisation must seek to dislodge this unbiblical worldview from the mind and practice of mission.

The Denial of Histories Focus
The second marker which we need to rebuff in order to re-build the doctrine and practice of mission is the way we deny the focus of secular history. It must be confessed that in some of our thinking about the task of mission, we have taken a wholly unbiblical view of the world. We have operated as though the affairs of secular history concern us only when they either assisted or impeded our work.

To be spiritual today often times equates to a search for an emotional ‘God-buzz’. This ‘holy grail’ of higher experiential evangelical nirvana, is presently shaping the minds and lives of Followers and thus their living theology of the Godhead and his mission. It may all be very well to have an inward experience of the love of God, but if it is not matched by a faith that the same loving purpose is operative in the world, then the experience does not provide an enduring basis for mission activity or participation. As soon as sacrifice, suffering and turmoil enter the personal spiritual space is crowded out and unnerving doubts invade. In this way we are focussing on ourselves and our own experiences and not on the universal eternal focus of God as he moves the world, nation by nation, people by people, tribe by tribe, in his purposes according to his will.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum: others have formed their theology of history almost exclusively around a piece of real-estate in the Middle East and not focussed on ‘every tribe, nation, language and people’. Unfortunately space does not permit for further exploration of this aspect and issue, but suffice to suggest that by centring world history on one nation is a gross denial of God’s actions and providence over all nations.

Therefore a refreshed examination of motivating people through a discovery of their personal destiny or the destiny of one nation is urgently needed. When a correct focus and balancer is given to secular history of all nations and peoples, then more servitude, openness and sacrifice will ensue.

Simplified Discipleship
Our third marker which needs addressing and re-defining is what we mean by discipleship. Our participation in mission is still part and parcel of our discipleship: it is not a higher calling illustrating a closer walk with God.

In the run-up to one of the European Mission Congresses my email box was active on the discussion that I seemed to be advocating that everyone can be a missionary. One prominent mission leader wrote, ‘if every believer’s a missionary, then none are missionaries.’ At the time I was tempted to respond by asking if such logic could be applied to humans…and if everyone is human, no one is human…which to me, is an interesting thought!

However, in just the same way as we have Chronological Snobbery, so too we have the danger of Missiological Snobbery. Here we classify and rank in superiority and calling long-term over and against short-term mission action. But it is not only here that we have such snobbery. Economics is another: mission is not the preserve of the rich nations, but a calling on believers in all nations to participate in the whole world.

To this end, we need a view and working theology of discipleship which is not simplified or slimmed down to a quick fix 6 week orientation to Christianity. Rather mission is communicated and lived in to every area of our existence and new life with Christ: being his heart, his hands, his feet and his voice, takes not only courage, but a greater sense and reality that we are all disciples of the triune God.

Juggernaut Gospel
The final marker which we need to re-assess in our rallying call in mission mobilisation is the temptation to climb aboard the Juggernaut Gospel - any literal or metaphorical force regarded as unstoppable that will crush all in its path. The word originates from India and the statue of Krishna as the ‘Lord of the Universe’(the Jagannātha) which was carried on a massive 45ft high cart. People believed that to be run over by the cart and die was a sure way to heaven.

Today though the temptation is to dream up and ply our great visions and strategies for world evangelisation as the cure all, fix all solution. Such mission activity when brought into a nation from outside has limited or no contextualised understanding or appreciation of the message, it’s hearers, or the indigenous church leadership. Rather, in its wake people are not only crushed, but (as has been the result in one Asian country) suppression, hardship and persecution occur. Meanwhile, those ‘outsiders’ on the juggernaut pass by unaware of the devastation they are leaving behind.

In our mission mobilisation then, we call servants and slaves not celebrity thrill seekers.

Mission as Worship
If mission activity and participation is worship, then mission mobilisation is a call to worship. The operating Biblical metaphor for worship is sacrifice – we bring ourselves to the altar and let God do with us what he will. Eugene Peterson writing in ‘The Jesus Way’ suggests that in bringing ourselves to the Eucharistic table we ‘enter into that grand fourfold shape of liturgy that shapes us: taking, blessing, breaking and giving – the life of Jesus taken and blessed, broken and distributed.’ In just the same way ‘that Eucharistic life now shapes our lives as we give ourselves, Christ in us, to be taken, blessed, and distributed in lives of witness and service and justice and healing.’
Surely this is the mission we are to participate ourselves in and mobilise others into.

I have spent the day walking the hills around Baguio City in the region or district of Irisan. 79% of the population of this district live below the poverty threshold for the Philippines: the threshold being $6US (£3UK) per day.

This is Chris and his family.
Chris is a construction worker - this means that he, along with 80% of the men in the village who are also construction workers, do not have permanent employment. It depends on the contract. He has been waiting for a new contract to start now for 2 months. So he and his family of 3 children are surviving on $1.20 (£0.70) a day!

His wife, who is expecting their 4th child in April, sells fast food on the side of the street. One of their children is sponsored for £20 a month to go to school run by World In Need: Philippines. But it is here, selling Odox and Fishball that she earns £0.70 a day to keep the family alive.

We stopped and visited them for a while – actually we sheltered from the rain – and I tried the Odox. Odox is deep fried and eaten with a chilli or honey source. It tastes absolutely delicious. My only disappointment was you need to eat more than one to really begin to appreciate the delicate taste sensation. But like any delicacy you should not eat too many. So I only had one.

Odox is a 1 day old chicken.
Yummy.

Am re-submitting this as the quality was so poor on the previous attempt. Apologies


Link

In my previous blog, Juggernaut Gospel - Feb 05, 2008 - I did not mention who was driving the juggernaut. This was deliberate because I do not want to go into 'ministry-assassination' as some beloved Christians do! It serves no purpose.

I simply was trying to make the point that too often Western Christian ministries go blundering in with the answer: when Church attendance is at an all time low – some warped logic somewhere & warped theology; and do not understand – or even appreciate the ‘on-the ground’ consequences. And so often they do not look back once they have moved on at the trail of devastation they have created. The circus, after all has another place to pitch its tent.
There are lessons to be learnt…and we are not learning them…perhaps because if we did we would do less razzmatazz gospelling, and more in-depth discipling. But razzmatazz gospel pays better!
So whose fault is it - Those who engage in Juggernaut Gospel or those who fund them?

Apologies to all who emailed with the answer of which ministry it was: but I’m not telling! Let’s learn the lessons instead.

The good news is that while in Cambodia I was able to visit the village we saw the healings and miracles occur last summer. (See June/July 2007 Blog reports)
We – the Faeroese Leaders – met up with Pastor Timothy and David – and travelled to the village for a quick visit.
With it being Chinese New Year, Pastor Timothy and David thought that it would be appropriate for a short small gathering in the village.


Now the GREAT NEWS
Despite them not having been granted permission to begin meeting together for worship, there are around 25-30 who meet with Pastor David on a weekly basis for Bible Study. One who meets is the old man who was healed of back pain on the 1st day. But prior to him being prayed for at the meeting in July, he asked for a copy of the Bible. He had heard of Jesus through a radio programme, but had never knowingly met any Christians before to ask for a Bible. In July, we had given him a Bible on the second day and had sat at the back of the meeting reading it! He had also begun helping carry water for the family where the meetings were held because the father was too ill to.
Well, he’s going on and growing in Christ.
He still very regularly carries water for the family; he attends the small Bible study group; and he testified to us that his back is like it was when he was a young man!

Later Thomas – the Faeroese leader who was on the trip last year – and I had opportunity to meet again the old woman who was the 1st to be healed. She had had the broken shoulder which had not been set right. On Saturday she walked up to us beaming with joy. She shared with us how her arm was still well and that she was so grateful to God for all he was doing in her life and the life of the village.

Throughout the day we heard from Pastor Timothy and David their plans for the village and local town. Their deep humility, commitment, and determination shone through all they said to us. Pastor Timothy is only 26: he has planted 6 churches in another province and established a school.

So the Juggernaut may have lead to a changing of the law on evangelism and a slowing down of permissions, but God is still God and he is faithful to those who follow him.

The Juggernaut Gospel

Why is it that we Western Christians think, because we’ve
• pots of cash;
• freedom of speech & expression;
• some meagre modicum of what we pass as Bible-knowledge – or in extreme cases ‘truth’;
• mass marketing techniques
that we can steam-roller into a 2/3 World country:
• do our ‘gospel’ presentation;
• pay total disregard for local Believers, history or culture
• and expect everything to be ‘honky-dory’?

Am I totally on another planet?
Am I alone in thinking that the West is NOT the best?

Why is it we have swallowed the Doctrine of Progression to the extent were we perceive ourselves and ways as right and superior? It is, after all as CS Lewis described it, the doctrine of ‘chronological snobbery’.

Today I’ve heard something which has made me absolutely ashamed to be a Western Christian – even a British one.

Avid readers and followers of the Blog will recall how I was in Cambodia last summer with a team of Faeroese young people and how we saw God move in some incredible miraculous ways. In fact, in this particular province, open evangelisation had only been allowed in the last two years; before that any Jesus believer was prosecuted by the authorities if they tried to share their faith. During our week in the village, located in the south western part of the country, many people became Christians and there was a church was where before there was non.

One of the two Cambodian Pastors who was with us committed himself to travelling to the village on a weekly basis to disciple and build up the people in their new found faith. Within days of us leaving he applied to the local authorities for permission to establish a worshipping community: a Church.

Then the Western Juggernaut hit the nation and the consequences will last for many years to come…negative consequences.
A world famous ministry; one which is greatly respected in the West, came to town with bands and concerts to do their Western thing. Faith was running high…or was it the pickles from eating too many McDonald Hamburgers? Either way, they were expecting great successes…and if you read their reports of the event, it was a great success.
BUT
What these report do not tell you, is that as a result of this jamboree and display of Western Christian opulence, new laws have been passed banning street evangelism; literature distribution, and some churches have been under pressure to close…or as in the case for the village – not allowed to meet or open.

The problem centres almost completely around the way this ministry came into the country – they came not to serve but to be served – and their lack of cultural sensitivity and understanding that by holding such mega big meetings the authorities would become uneasy and nervous. From what I am picking up, they had as much tact as an Australian cooking pork for a Jewish BBQ.

The net result and impact: the little village is still waiting for permission to meet together as a church.

The Western Juggernaut gospel kills everything in its path, destroys the environment, and chocks everyone in its wake.
• It is not discipleship based, it’s numbers driven;
• It’s not personal, it’s Western imperialistic individualism;
• It’s not servant hearted, it’s bankrupt grace

When are we going to learn?
When are we going to humble ourselves to learn from others?
The good news is:
The Kingdom of God here is advancing, despite the Western Christian imperialists, not because of it.