A Rumour Of God

The mobile phone company, TMN, has an advert currently on the television which uses the song “He’s got the whole world in his hands” playing in the background, while a globe is handed randomly around from one person to the next. It begs the question, well, who is it that has the world in his hands. TMN certainly don’t. They have to share it with Vodafone and TMobile at the very least.

As the shopping malls fill up this month, whether in Lisbon, London or Brussels, God seems to be strangely absent “Strangely” because it is his world, after all, and this holiday is supposed to be a celebration of his son’s arrival into this world of his. Sunday last, we were listening to a programme on Radio Ulster (yes, the Internet can be very useful at times) and the speaker used the phrase “a rumour of God”. And that’s what it sometimes seems like to us. The Vasco da Gama Shopping Centre is gloriously lit up. The canned Christmas carols in the loudspeakers all sound suitably tinselly. And there’s a rumour that God is here also, that all the festivities have something vaguely to do with him. But it seems to be no more than just a passing rumour. A rumour that, well, maybe he hasn’t quite disappeared yet. That God is in here somewhere. Behind the glitter and the tinsel and the piles and piles of TV’s and DVD’s and PSP’s and whatever else are the latest gadget. For most people, both here, and elsewhere in Europe, as they rush around to try and buy the latest things, life seems more like the Pogue's "Fairytale of New York" than "Joy to the World, the Lord has come"

But, He is here. He is here, and He is not silent, if you have ears to hear. I want to make him more than just a rumour. I want this place to resound to the reality, that God lives, that God is here, and that God loves. I want to be what Paul in Second Corinthians calls the “Aroma of Christ”. There’s something unmistakeable about the way that smell communicates – “Did somebody just blow out the candles?” “Oh, no! I forgot to switch the oven off!” “Who was THAT, who just walked by?” You can avert your eyes, be looking at something else at the time. You can try and shut your ears, but it’s very hard to avoid smelling something.

We can’t always be in a position to say a great deal that’s meaningful or clearly communicates what we believe, and we may not be all that visible at the moment. But we can do make sure that we’re “smelling good”, that the richness and freshness of the life of Jesus oozes out of our very pores!!

"But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ

and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him.

For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved

and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death;

to the other, the fragrance of life"

Portuguese cartoon

Thought I'd insert the cartoon from Saturday's paper. Seemed quite funny to me.

"Robert Mugabe arrived in Lisbon yesterday."
"Yes, I know."
"And the European space module is ready for launching"
"Oh, My God! You don't think..."
"No, the Europeans wouldn't have the nerve."

I had to use my dictionary to figure out some of this. Reading cartoons is a good language exercise. It's even more challenging with "Calvin and Hobbes"!

We're on the News again!

This time for the African EU summit this weekend. Another round of motorcades with blaring police sirens down the street, of alterations to the route of the 708 bus which takes us down through the Park of the Nations, and of the busloads of world media shipped in to transmit the happenings around the globe.

It was a bit surreal to walk down to our local Vasco da Gama shopping centre on a Saturday afternoon and have to dodge around cameras on tripods and pass between two rival factions of protestors from Zimbabwe. On the one side, a noisy band of anti-Mugabe protestors singing and dancing, and holding up slogans denouncing torture, murder, oppression, and on the other side a handful of people (who, by the way, looked most un-Zimbabwean and unenthusiastic) holding aloft a banner that read “Hands off Zimbabwe – stop illegal sanctions!”

Besides the presence of Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe, the local press was also rather awestruck by the arrival of Muammar Gaddafi of Libya. The headline ran “Gaddafi sets up camp in Oeiras” (a prosperous suburb of Lisbon). There, the local population have been somewhat bemused by this North African leader who shunned the five star hotels, and requested the authorities provide him with an open space on the edge of the city to set up tents for himself and his entourage of more than 200 people and fully armed. Tapera our Zimbabwean colleague in the language school, only commented “these dictators of ours, you know, they need to watch their backs!”

(I kind of liked this photo - I scanned it from the magazine section of Saturday's newspaper - but it wasn't taken in Lisbon, its in the corridors of the European Commission in Brussels)

The Summit was heralded as a “Summit of Equals” with our Prime Minister Jose Socrates calling it a meeting of equals, not just in terms of human dignity but also of political responsibility. But it's hard to match this equality with the reality behind a protestor's discarded placard which I noticed as I returned home. It read “as you eat your caviar remember that we’re dying”.

Let the last word be from Oliver Mutukudzi, the great songman from Zimbabawe, and my favourite African singer.

"Life is how you make it. The quality of life is measured by the kinds of steps you take as you walk through it. If you happen to see a footprint in the road, it means someone has been there before you, and there's something to be learned from that person's life and that person's story. 'Tsimba Itsoka'. There is no footprint without the foot (Shona Proverb)."

What kind of footprint am I making, and what kind of footprint am I leaving for someone else to follow?

21st Century Cod

If you were to see a news item entitled “the Revolt of the CodFish” you could be forgiven for thinking it was about some new late night horror movie.
Instead it referred to a culinary competition which took place in Faro the other day and was reported on the evening news. It is an interesting little insight into the country’s obsession with the humble cod, the “fiel amigo” (faithful friend) of every Portuguese.

The competition which was in its third year was between chefs up and down the country who sought to produce a new look recipe for a traditional dish, presumably, to suit a post modern era.The winner was one Manuel Teixeira, from Northern Portugal, who produced a piece which he entitled "the cod revolts and comes to earth", and was an arrangement of fillet of cod, tongue of cod, among truffles and other delicacies. And, I thought that beyond poaching, grilling and frying in breadcrumbs, there was not much else you could do with a cod

Now, it’s true that the cod, and, in particular, the salted dried cod called “bacalhau” is by far the most popular foodstuff here. So much of the fish is eaten that, in spite of it being a seafaring nation, much of what you now see in supermarkets has to be shipped in from Norway. In every restaurant you will find “bacalhau” on the menu in all shapes and sizes. We can eat it every day at the University cafeteria. You immediately know where the fish counter is in any Portuguese supermarket by the scent of the dried bacalhau. And, Christmas dinner here, we understand, is not roast turkey and ham, but consists of a dish of cod, cabbage and potatoes and is generally eaten around midnight on Christmas eve.

While on the subject of cod, the liver of the humble cod is reputed to be full of all sorts of wonderful qualities to help a person stay healthy, among which is listed “to assist memory and help cognitive functions”. So it is that Anna has taken to consuming two codliver oil capsules per day to help her with her Portuguese prepositions

But back to the “revolt of the cod” competitition. The interesting thing about the competition, I thought to myself, was that here was a very novel way of taking something that’s traditional, tried, tested and true (and tasty) and reinterpreting it for a new generation, creating a cod dish for the 21^st Century. Much the same as we believe needs to be done for the tried, tested and true doctrines of the Christian faith. We constantly need to find ways, not of changing the basic diet, but of reinterpreting them, presenting them afresh so that they are palatable, enjoyable and meaningful for a new generation.

Cork

This piece is about the tree, not the city, (though that might be worth visiting again sometime). Its about an unprepossessing lump of bark.

Now, I would not be a cork farmer for anything. It would seem to me to require the patience of Job. When you plant a cork tree for the first time, apparently, you have to wait 40 years, yes that’s 40 years, for your first harvest. And then you can only harvest the cork bark after that every 9 years.
In Portugal from Lisbon south to the Algarve the countryside is dotted with these gnarled old oaks. In fact Portugal produces 50 % of the world’s cork. And I’ve read that some can live to be 500 years old. Hey, that means than some of these might have felt the ground shudder in the great Lisbon earthquake of 1755!!

Last Saturday we were out on a farm in the Alentejo, about an hour and a half drive east of Lisbon. Jan and Elisabeth Anema are Dutch and had sold their farm in Holland and moved here some twenty years ago because they felt God telling them to do so. They believe that being a Cristian is not just about preaching and reading the Bible. It should invade your whole life and affect all that you are and do. They combine dairy farming with pastoral counselling (Elisabeth is a trained counsellor) and a range of social and educational activities You can read more about all that they are involved in by clicking on http://www.anema.com.pt/root_ing.htm

It was our first weekend away from Lisbon, and the peace of the rural environment was so refreshing. But it was the cork trees that gripped my imagination. They were dotted all over Jan’s land, and the cork bark had just been harvested. Wonderfully gnarled old trees all bearing the scars of their bark being stripped away. The deep orange of the denuded trunks stood out in marked contrast to the rest of the landscape. Now they’ve nine more years to recover their skins and build up another thick layer of springy cork to pop into your champagne bottles ( and provide for a whole lot of other uses you probably never dreamed of – think clarinets and fishing rods for a start)

Anyway if farming is about watching and waiting and hoping and exercising patience, then cork farming probably demonstrates the end of the road as far as those particular virtues go. And a lot of life is like that. James says that perserverance has to finish its work for you to be mature complete, not lacking in anything *. If Jan tries to harvest his cork trees again next November, he’ll get nothing. If the cake doesn’t stay in the oven the full 45 minutes, it will flop. And I know that in so much of my life, when I want things to move a long a little faster, that God has his own timing. It simply won't work if I try to rush things. It never has in the past. I just need to learn to wait.

* James 1:4

Heron

The Heron waits

................In the early morning light, the heron perches

.................................At the right time, he won’t miss his prey

.......................................................His beak will make it’s mark

...................................................................................His family will be fed

.........................................................................................................But for now he waits

And I wait

..................In the morning light with scurrying clouds

..................................As the first rains of winter refresh the city

......................................................Repaint the sky with a new translucence

......................................................................................And I wait

......................................................................................................What will God say to me today?

It's amazing, isn't it, how much of our relationship with God has to do with waiting. Waiting for difficulties to be sorted out, waiting for a relationship to develop, waiting for answers, waiting for breakthroughs, waiting for deliverance. And sometimes just waiting to hear in the silence.

I find that whenever I come down here to the edge of the River Tejo, the word to me always seems to be "wait". Maybe it's because I often see the heron there. Always still. Always silent. Always waiting. So God says. Wait for the appointed time. Wait for what I have in store for you. Wait for me to act. Or in the words of Habbakuk Chap 2.

1 I will stand at my watch
and station myself on the ramparts;
I will look to see what he will say to me,
and how he will answer my complaint.

The LORD's Answer

2 Then the LORD replied:
the revelation awaits an appointed time;
it speaks of the end
and will not prove false.
Though it linger, wait for it;
it will certainly come and will not delay

Learnt a new word in Portuguese this week - "demorar". It kind of means to delay or more correctly "to take time over". You use it to say how long it takes to get from A to B. So maybe it's not quite about being late, or getting behind schedule - it's just whatever time is needed, that's the time it will take. In Habakkuk’s words, “linger” is translated by this word in the Portuguese Bible, so that while it might appear to be taking a lot of time, don’t worry, it will not be one minute later or one minute earlier than God has intended.

And that’s how it is with so much of what he does. We get impatient, we want to move ahead, but when God acts, it’s always at the right time, never a moment too soon never a moment too late. Teach me Lord to have the patience of a heron for all that you have in store for me.

The Magic of Mariza

The Pavilhão Atlântico (Atlantic Pavilion) is the huge Concert Hall situated in the Park of the Nations.

We went there a couple of Thursday evenings ago for a concert by Portugal's world class fado singer, Mariza. (NB If you want to find where it is why don’t you copy and paste “Pavilhão Atlântico, Lisboa” into Google maps and it’s the great big grey blob that looks like a rugby ball.

And while you’re there why not scroll northwards up the road called Alameda dos Oceanos to where the Parque do Tejo is just before you reach the Vasco da Gama Bridge, and that is where our home will be when we move mid December!)

Anyway, back to the Concert. It was absolutely magical. This diminutive figure in her signature black gown strode out on the stage to the sound of the Portuguese guitarra, and the crowd of 12,000 people stilled as she filled the auditorium with her voice, crying out from her heart of love and loss and sadness. Because that is the heartbeat of fado music.

She had just returned from a tour of the US, singing in Carnegie Hall, New York across to Los Angeles, and spoke so emotionally of her joy at being back in her beloved Lisboa. At least, we got the emotion, if not all the words. In fact our enjoyment of the whole evening was undimmed by the fact that our embryonic Portuguese only caught a fraction of the words spoken in introducing the various stars who participated in the concert with her. For us, it was a great introduction to the world of “lusophone” music (Lusophone is a general term given for any Portuguese speaking part of the world) with artist from Portugal, Angola, Brazil and Cape Verde.

A magical evening, and another late Lisbon night, starting this time at 10 pm and finishing by half past midnight. Not sure if we can keep this up.

www.mariza.com
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHzaIK8fGVg

A Harvest Festival ... with Horses!

Last Saturday we went out to the small town of Golega about 100 km north of Lisbon with two Portuguese friends, to a horse fair.

Maria and Aurea picked us up at after 4 pm and I thought to myself that’s a bit late in the day to be going to a fair. In fact we had no idea what to expect – thought it might be a bit of showjumping, a horse race or two, and a lot of trading going on. As it turned out, it was a huge social occasion with the small town packed out, and riders on horseback dangerously mixing with pedestrians through the narrow streets, and everyone intent on seeing and being seen. The actual event was St Martin's Day which falls on November 11th, and is a kind of harvest celebration, with lots of drinking of "agua-pe" (literally "foot water") the early wine produced just after the gapes have been harvested. Maria was brilliant at explaining all the features of the festival, and it was so good being with Portuguese friends at this.

If you’re looking for an Irish equivalent, think Puck Fair in Killorglin, but minus the goat, and with, in many cases, a more elevated social class. What struck us was the “royal” boxes that were set out around the central square of the town for the families of the horse owners who were obviously well to do aristocrats, (and you’d have to be when some of the grand looking Lusitanian horses strutting around would fetch some €600,000) dressed in traditional costumes and hats.

Apart from the crowd-mingling, people-watching, hot-chestnut-eating (a central part of the evening) we also got to see some pretty fancy footwork with dancing horses and the evening ended (or at least our participation in it did) with a fado performance and we left about half past midnight. The dark night, the musicians, the dust, the constant canter and snorting of the horses, the noise, the laughter, the arguments – it was an amazing, rich, earthy experience to add to our understanding of the Portuguese culture. We got home at 2am, and were teased later for adapting too well to the Portuguese hours.

Anna and Aurea chilling out

The ornate stirrups indicate a Spanish rider

Roasting chestnuts. Mmmmm!

Insomniacs of the World Unite

I'm not a great sleeper at the best of times, and since coming to Portugal, the pattern hasn’t improved that much.

Now everyone’s got their pet solution to sleep problems. Counting sheep is one solution that’s been offered, but that kind of thing begins to pall after a while. I mean, once you’ve seen one sheep…

Or you can try “Noite Tranquile” a potion recommended by our language teacher. It’s a kind of herbal tea available in the local supermarket, but then, after a mug of that, you end up having to run to the toilet a couple of times. Or you can watch the shopping channel for a while, but you have to be pretty desperate to suffer endless demonstrations of contraptions that dry and iron your clothes at the same time.

Well I’ve a new one here that I discovered last night. It’s a kind of new take on praying through the night! Could’t sleep, so at 4am I plugged my ipod in and set it to “shuffle” tracks and just lay there in the dark, hoping I’d get back to sleep. I found that each track that played triggered a memory for me of people and places in a moment in time, and I just spent the time the track was playing praying for that. (**)

U2’s “One” came on, thoughts naturally turned to Ireland and friends in Clonmel, Tramore and Athy. Prayed for Primrose and Dan away from Kosova just now and spending time with friends and family.

Then came Nusrat Kateh Ali Khan’s “Night Songs”, and I was transported in spirit at once to Pakistan and to pray for that troubled nation at this crucial time.

Emiliana Torrini’s “If You go Away” took me somewhat randomly to Brussels and Judith’s tiny flat in Ixelles, and after which I crossed the channel to London with Hillsong’s “Consuming Fire” and praying for Sharon and her friends, Roh, Charlie, Ayesha and Khadra living for God and reflecting Jesus in the capital.

Robin Mark’s “I Stand amazed” and I was taken right over to 1^st Coleraine Presbyterian, just visualising church with Gordy and the group leading worship, before being whisked back to Lisbon and the Park of the Nations with Ana Moura’s “Sou do fado, sou fadista”

Finally Tim Hughes “Everything” from his new album “When Silence falls”, which is my song of the moment (*) and my prayers were for Colin in Southampton as he makes his way through life in 1^st year University

God in my living
God in my Breathing..

God in my hurting
God in my healing

Be my everything
Be my everything

Christ in me
Christ in me
Christ in me

the Hope of Glory Be my everything Be my everything

(*) http://www.wesleyowen.com/WesleyOwenSite/product/Music/SURCD5068.htm

(**) DISCLAIMER : The blogger is not meant to be recommending the above method as a standard practice for people wanting to improve their prayer life. On your knees with an open Bible is much better!!

Light and Dark : Words and Actions

The other night I couldn’t sleep and so went through to the living Room and picked up the "Telecomando"

(I kid you not - that is the word for "remote" in Portuguese - what a colourful language!!)

There was a documentary on Bob Dylan on the local RTP2 TV channel. English programmes are few and far between but when they're on, they’re often useful for keeping an eye on the Portuguese subtitles and figuring out how idiomatic English expressions are carried over into Portuguese. That aside, I found myself fascinated by an interview with a regal looking silver haired Joan Baez. She expressed her disappointment that despite his being more or less the prophet of the whole ‘60’s Protest movement in the USA, Bob Dylan never really aligned himself with that movement, never marched out side by side for civil rights or against the war or wanted that his poetry or music be politicised. It was something she could never really come to terms with. Words and actions for her belonged together.

Now, whether or not one thinks that Dylans poetry and music should stand on its own, for ourselves the reality is that our words must relate to our actions. That’s an absolute. Already, in our first few weeks in Lisbon, in the little bit of relationship building we have been doing, we are aware that our words are being weighed and our lives watched. For many people around us, we may be the only example of true Christian living demonstrated in front of them. We become, as it were, the image of the invisible God. Now that might seem to be a somewhat pompous statement - a bit of verbal overkill. However, in a very real sense that is God’s intention when he places Christians in neighbourhoods and communities – it's his desire that we become THE visible body of Christ in a dark place.


The light in Lisbon is startling. We've had only one overcast wet day the whole of October (unusual weather for the time of year, people say) and, when the sun shines, there's an amazing luminosity about the place. Probably something to do with the whitewashed walls or the shine of the wonderfully patterned cobbled streets and the reflections from the river. But it brings a rich colour to the city. Yet, like any other large urbal sprawl, there are patches of darkness. Many places where the kingdom of light does not reign. It is the job of Christians to bring light into dark places

that we may declare the praises of him who called US out of darkness

into HIS WONDERFUL LIGHT" (1 peter 2:9)

We're on the News!

200,000 people passed our apartment block yesterday!!

They were trade unionists and it was part of Portugal's largest labour demonstration in recent years, and timed to coincide with the EU summit taking place just down the road in the Atlantic Pavilion in the Park of the Nations. As we watched the parade go by, it seemed like a grand day out for a lot of people, grandmothers with babies, construction workers marching alongside secretaries in their high heels. For some, a chance to visit the big city, as the banners indicated people from Porto, from Braga, from Evora and all over. There's a car showroom at the bottom of our building, and we couldn't help noticing how many turned to stare, almost with amazement, at the Mercedes and BMW's lined up. Reminds us of the huge divide that exists in this country. Here we are living among Lisbon's "upper crust", and you don't have to go many miles outside of the city to find yourself in a world of small farms and villages. We read a headline in a local paper that announced, according to a recent EU analysis, Portugal's 2 million "poor" has pushed her into the "Top Ten" poorest nations in Europe!!

Hard to believe as we look out from our apartment window over the skyline of the Park of Nations and as we listen to the sorts of rental figures that are being quoted us each day as we continue to look for a place to stay.

Every morning, as dawn breaks over the River Tejo and the lights atop the Sao Rafael Tower, and the Vasco da Gama blink out in the half light, I remind myself that God's presence is hovering over this skyline, and that he has already selected for us to "put up our tent". Maybe you glimpsed the Park during yesterday evenings news bulletins with Gordon Brown and others posing aroud during the discussions to approve the new EU reforms Treaty. We hope you took time to pray that this place might become as much a centre for God's glory as it is for European debate.

Another language blooper, this time from Anna!!


The word for fish is "peixe", pronounced "peysh", and the word for parents is "pais", prounced "paiysh", so when Anna said in class today that she enjoyed eating "paiysh", the teacher looked worried!!

Strolling in the Alfama

Saturday afternoon saw us enjoying a relatively aimless afternoon in downtown city centre Lisbon. It’s unusually hot for the middle of October, people have told us, but we didn’t mind that one bit. We took the number 28 tram from the heart of the city, Baixa Chiado, to the old district of the Alfama. Think of one of those old wooden rickety rollercoasters at a fairground, but without the speed or the huge heights. Then place that rollercoaster in first in a crowded city centre plaza, then against the backdrop of some of the most dramatic and elegant architectural of Europe. And all for less than a euro. Wonderfully cheap Saturday afternoon entertainment!!

It was one of those afternoons when it was just nice to have nothing to do. We stepped into a big old church at the top of the hill, behind the Castle. Moving from the brilliant sunshine and the lively pace of the streets into the massive hall of quietness and darkness lit by a few candles, I got an overwhelming sense of weight. The weight of years, and all of the humanity that had passed through these doors, but over and above that the weight of the institution that this and many many other similar churches in old Lisbon represent.

Saturday was also an important day in the religious life of the nation. The 13th October and the 13th May are high points in the calendar of the shrine at Fatima. They mark the dates when the vision of the virgin Mary were supposed to have been given in 1917. The TV screens were full of the event with thousands upon thousands of pilgrims. The hierarchy of the clergy were there, including the Secretary of State from the Vatican to inaugurate the Church of the Holy Trinity what is to the brand new Sanctuary, and will be one of the largest Church sanctuary outside of St Peters in Rome in Europe. When an interviewer asked the reason for the name given to the Church, the reply was given that it was because God should be at the heart of all that this Church represents. Pity then that the whole of focus of the ceremonies and festivities should be not around the Father, nor the Son, nor the Holy Spirit, but on Mary and the institutions of the Church.

In a country of around 12 million people, it is estimated that around 4 million, will visit Fatima in the course of a year. May the Lord bring light, and lift the weight of years and tradition off the contemporary understanding of what Christianity is in present day Portugal.

My First Blooper

There’s always a danger in trying to show off the knowledge of the language that you don’t really have !!

My first blooper occurred on the second day of Portguese language classes! In the class we were going around being asked our ages, as we were learning numbers. I guess I was conscious that, at 54, I was older than all these young things, so thought I would be clever. (Oh, by the way, our class consists of us “fiftysomethings”, four young girls not too long out of high school, and two Roman Catholic missionaries preparing for Mozambique!!)

On the bus coming over I had noticed that there were seats reserved for the disabled and old people and noticed the word “gravidas" which, in my wisdom, I figured must mean elderly. So when asked, I didn’t give my age away, only said that I was “gravidas”. Only later in the afternoon. Patricia, a beautiful Brazilian lady we had met, told me, when I asked her, that “gravidas” actually means pregnant!! Woops! And double Woops!! Funny, come to think of it, the teacher didn't actually correst me on that one

Let us tell you about Carlos and Patricia. They are from Brazil,. A lovely Christian couple and God has brought them to live right in the Park of the Nations. Just like Ryan and Dana who are American and have two extremely lively girls, Kayla and Rachel. These families are not full time missionaries as such, but in the line of their business, God has seen fit to place them alongside ourselves as Christians living in a dark place. Carlos is away from home three weeks out of four, and Ryan also works long hours and travels a lot. So Patricia has to contend with an extremely lively two year old Isabella, and Dana with her two. We’re praying especially that Anna will have time to help support and pray with these young mothers.

Boxes, Boxes, Boxes!!

Today seems we're almost at the end of a long, long road. And tomorrow, Thursday, we're onto a brand new road, via Easyjet Belfast-Gatwick-Lisbon. Shippers have just this minute been and emptied the living room at 15 Somerset Park Coleraine of boxes and barrels. A lot of other stuff has already gone up to the roof space, and even more to the town dump!!

Thanks to all who have been with us on this long road, for your prayers, your interest and involvement and your support. Now the cloud of Gods presence lifts from 15 Somerset Park, and, we pray, settles over some yet to be identified apartment in the Park of the Nations, Lisbon. Stay with us for the next part of the journey. It will be exciting in a different sort of a way, but no less challenging.

Psalm 121 A song of ascents.

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD,
the Maker of heaven and earth.......

.......the LORD will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

The Special One

It's funny how in the popular consciousness a label gets attached to a particular celebrity from some throwaway comment he or she has made.

So it s that, as Portugal's most famous son, Jose Mourinho, bows out of managing Chelsea football team this past week, it was as "the Special One" that he is remembered in the popular press. Whether or not he remains “special” in the eyes of the ever fickle media will depend on performance and whoever else emerges over the horizon to capture the popular imagination

I like Jose. (Even though I’m supposed to support Arsenal) I like his shrug. I like his scowls and I like his grimaces and his straightforward approach in the press conferences. I read a quote of his he made back in 2004 on the subject of being sacked

“I was nine or 10 years old and my father was sacked on Christmas Day. He was a manager, the results had not been good, he lost a game on December 22 or 23. On Christmas Day, the telephone rang and he was sacked in the middle of our lunch. So I know all about the ups and downs of football, I know that one day I will be sacked."

Next year’s “special one” will be somebody different. But we’re following a Special One who’s constant, never changing, always faithful. Last evening we had our farewell service in 1^st Coleraine Presbyterian. It was a glorious occasion. So many friends, some from way back, and some we’d only begun to get to know in this last year. But all representing a whole body of support and encouragement that we know will follow with us as we travel out to live and work Portugal, in, yikes, just about ten days time.

And Peter Fleming reminded us about, Jesus, the Special One we’re going there to serve. The Faithful One who is so unchanging presence is our legacy. I think if we were not convinced of his utter dependability, that he is alive, and lives for evermore, and is able to save to the uttermost all who come to Him, then we would not be making one step out of Northern Ireland.

Sandra and William Workman, and Dan and Primrose Avila probably travelled furthest from the wilds of county Kildare to be with us on what was a very special evening

Faithful One, so unchanging. Ageless One, You're my rock of peace. Lord of all, I depend on You. You are my rock in times of trouble. You lift me up when I fall down. All through the storm your love is the anchor My hope is in you alone.

Wandering Stars

Our Sharon recently got together with three of her contemporaries from high school in Pakistan at a curry house in Brick Lane in the East End of London.. And Judith at the end of this month will organise yet another mini MCS reunion with her friend Lydia. They’re never done connecting and re-connecting on facebook, on msn, and in person. They’re of that unique breed, sometimes known as “third culture kids”. Born to parents of one (or maybe, as in our case, two cultures), raised in a second culture, and then trying to make it on their own in a third or even forth culture. They’re citizens of planet earth, with roots that drag around after them looking for a decent piece of soil to grasp onto. Wandering stars, sometimes blazing a trail of light on their own, and sometimes colliding with others in a blaze of multi-coloured brilliance

They’re not like the wandering stars of the thirteenth verse of the Book of Jude though. These stars burn bright and carry with them the riches drawn from the cultures they’ve lived in. I never cease to be amazed how they immediately connect with others with a similar story even though their context may have been Latin America or Africa rather than South Asia. In some ways they carry about in their hearts a glimpse or foretaste of the cultural riches of a heaven that will peopled with stars from every tribe and race and language.

But sometimes these wandering stars do feel the loss of a fixed point of reference. Their hearts do cry out for understanding, for meaning, for some sense of history and connectedness. And sometimes there is a sense of grief for what’s been lost and what might have been, and friends you’ll never see again.

Please could you stay awhile to share my grief
For its such a lovely day
To have to always feel this way

(Wandering stars – Portishead 1994)

As Colin heads off into Southampton University, as Sharon continues to finds her way in art and creativity, as Judith serves her God in her place in Brussels, here's a prayer for all you wandering stars out there.

May you shine like stars in His universe
and bring light to the blackness around you.

May you find a way, Gods way, His clear and perfect way,
as you manoeuvre round the roadblocks on the path

May you hold out that perfect word of life to those who need it.

May your lives reflect that pure and blameless lifestyle that was Christ’s
and may you taste and see that He is good

East of Eden

That, according to the account in Genesis Chapter 4, is the location of the world’s first city, as designed and built by Cain following his exile from the Garden. In a perverse sort of way, in the popular Christian mindset, the “city” is sometimes thought of as intrinsically godless and nurturing all manner of social evils and vices, not a place where Christ reigns. But Revelation Chapter 21 shows the “city” as the centrepiece of God’s redemptive activity, and in the imagery it is once again restored to Eden.

I have recently been reading Tim Keller’s writings, and fascinated to explore this view of the “city” in God’s plan and purpose for the world. I’d never heard of Keller before, but the name cropped up in conversation on two separate occasions the other weekend when we were in down south in Clonmel and Kilkenny. He's an inner city pastor in Manhatton with a very clearly communicated vision of God's plan and purpose for the cities of our world. A good place to find a summary of his articles and stuff about him is http://www.monergism.com/thethreshold/articles/bio/timkeller.html

Suddenly in my head, a lot of things came together and I got quite excited. The motivation that is pushing us toward Lisbon, which has always been in part a desire to be involved in a vibrant urban ministry - but I never quite figured out whats behind it --- until now. The idea of being involved in the Park of the Nations, in the heart of Lisbon city takes on a fresh new significance.

One Generation Shall Praise your name to Another

One generation shall praise Your works to another,
And shall declare Your mighty acts. (Psalm 145:4)

I used to have an old LP of Handel's Chandos Anthems, and Anthem No 5 "I will magnify thee" is a lovely setting of Psalm 145. I love the way he makes the words "one generation" and "to another" trip over each other in a kind of waterfall of sound (you can tell I have no musical training whatsoever - I just love the stuff) but I think we've always usually thought of the above verse, as, yes, we ought to be teaching our children stuff about God. But it can work upwards as well, the children telling the parents about God, as happened to us yesterday.

We were sitting in a Church, a small fellowship in Limavady, waiting to share about our plans for Lisbon, and the mobile phone was not switched off. Daughter Sharon, in London, sends a text at that moment, and quotes Exodus 33:14 "My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest" in the body of the text. What Sharon did not know was that that verse has been the signature verse of our whole married life, from way before she was even conceived. That that verse is the one God used to seal our relationship at a time when as young Bible College students in Glasgow we wanted to know if God had a future in the growing attraction we felt for one another. At that time, back in 1979, my Mother, Sharon's granny, not even aware of any kind of blossomin gromance whatsoever, sent me a letter from Coleraine and started it with this verse and nothing else "My presence shall go with thee, and I will give thee rest".

And now twenty eight years on, God uses the same verse, this time through the granddaughter, and puts a seal on his calling and equipping us for ministry with the church he is bringing into being in the Park of the Nations, Lisbon. Verily, one generation does tell another about the woderful works of God, and it works both ways!!

It's a long way from Tipperary

…to Lisbon.. .. or, indeed, most other places for that matter.

From Coleraine, its 282 miles to be exact. Last Sunday found us in the rolling hills and fields of South Tipp as they call it, sharing with a small fellowship that meets in an old Methodist church building in the town of Clonmel, and, later that same day in Kilkenny. In both cases, we were so impressed with the level of spiritual life, the depth of their fellowship and commitment to one another, and the richness of cultural variety God has brought into every corner of the republic of Ireland.

I was born and brought up in Ireland, but there’s much that’s unfamiliar and much that’s changing in the in Ireland of 2007. They have called it the land of Saints and Scholars, but today’s Ireland is more about the cost of housing and how many euros you can stash away into pension funds and offshore accounts in the shortest time possible, than about any pursuit of holiness or scholarship. So, it's refreshing then to find a group of people who regard storing up treasure in heaven as a more important occupation of their time and energy. We're praying that God will produce a similar sort of thriving fellowship in the coming months in the Park of the Nations, Lisbon.

Matthew and Barbara Brennan with their two boys, Timothy and Simon, who serve with the Church in Clonmel, live on the edge of a grand old country Estate that bears all the echoes of a bygone era of Anglo Irish gentility.

Wake me up when September ends

As, September begins, the amount we have to do between now and the end of this month is something else. And a lot of it has to do with all the stuff that surrounds us – furniture, electrical gadgets, clothes and books. You know. All that stuff that is incredibly useful and helps us manage our lives when we’re staying in one place, yet gets in the way a bit when we’re seeking the freedom to uproot ourselves and move on under God’s leading.

And in regard to the stuff, the “S” question is something we’ll be asking ourselves again and again over the next few weeks – Shall we Store it, shall we Sell it, shall we Ship it or shall we Scrap it?

Looking for a Biblical view on “stuff”, there’s not a lot of direct instructions available. And what bits of advice there are tend to be framed in the negative - “do not store up treasures on earth” and “take with you nothing for the journey, no staff, no bag, no bread, no money…” Wonder how we’ll manage in an empty apartment in the Park of the Nations without a staff, a bag and some bread and money!

Oh for wisdom from on High for all these imponderable questions. In the meantime here’s a verse from Psalm one hundred and nineteen for the week ahead

May all who fear you find in me a cause for joy,

for I have put my hope in your word. (psalm 119:74)

Countries Beginning with the letter "P"

Well, it’s still August so I suppose its okay to still be talking about New Horizon Bible week in Coleraine. There I was on the main stage, a missionary who’d been in Pakistan, now heading for Portugal, and I was promoting a Project in Poland. I think I really must like the letter “P”!!

Anna and I were there as part of Hope Street, the Missions exhibition at the Conference. We were hosting Luke and Marisa Bajenski who had come over from Warsaw to talk about “realnanadzieja.pl”. Loosely translated, this Project means “real, lasting, unshakeable” hope and is the title of a countrywide initiative they’re involved in that aims to make Jesus famous throughout Poland using literature, media and a lot of busy people sharing their personal faith in Jesus Christ. 40,000 believers in a country of nearly 40 million. You can find out more about the project by clicking on www.projectpoland.org


Luke Bajenski and myself, along with Charlie Anderson, looking a bit stunned by the flash, who has just taken over from me as Ireland Director for ECM. And while on the subject of the letter "P", Charlie and his family used to work in Peru. I guess after he's worked in Ireland a while, he'll maybe head off to Papua New Guinea or somewhere after a while!!

From Pakistan to Portugal

It may seem a long way from Pakistan to Portugal but that is the route we’re taking into the next phase of our lives. After 18 years with God in Pakistan, learning to trust Him, building into people’s lives, and seeing a church strengthened and growing, we returned to Northern Ireland in 1999

Now 7 years on, we’re moving again, this time to Portugal, following a period of time in Ireland with our home church in Coleraine, while Peter has been serving as Home Director for European Christian Mission in Ireland.
Being back in Ireland again, and making a home within the local community, has been good, but there's always been a feeling as though part of ourselves was elsewhere. I guess that's part of what people sometimes refer to as being called as a missionary. It's that gentle tugging at the heart and the deep inner conviction that God wants you to be his voice in a culture not your known, where people might otherwise have no opportunity to know the amazing love of Jesus.

So here we go again! Our intended departure date is October 4th, and new to blogging, we want to invite you on the journey with us by following our thoughts and reflections and prayers, in an exploration of the grace of God in action.