Fifty five years young!

Sunday morning 8am. Running down the west bank of the River Tejo. Sun streaming across the face of the water. Blood pumping through my veins. And I’m thinking.

Seventh of September. I’m 55 years old today. And I feel like 45. I mean, ten years ago, I doubt if I could have run this 5 km on a morning and not felt the pain of my lack of fitness. (mind you, I'm sometimes a bit out of puff and might need a bit of help in blowing out the candles!

And I give thanks to God. For energy, for strength, for health but more than that, for the realisation of His hand on our lives here in Lisbon.

There was another old man. In fact he was much older. And at the age of 85 he was at the end of a long journey. A journey that had taken him with his family and his people through rough terrain and wild wilderness for all of 45 years. And when he came to the end here's what he had to say

“Here I am 85 years old. God has kept me alive these 45 years, since He first spoke to me about this land. And I’m still as strong today as the day Moses sent me out. I’m just as vigorous to go out to battle now as I was then. Now then, give me this mountain that the Lord promised me that day”.

Caleb, son of Jephunneh it was. And it says of him in the Book of Joshua. That he had a different spirit than the others. This was in relation to believing that God was able to fulfil all the promises He had made to his people. Now I’m not as old as that. Not yet, anyway. But I pray that I might have that different spirit, that Spirit that believes, that knows God is a God who keeps His word. A spirit that hears what God is saying. And I reply to God. Give us this “mountain” I say. Give us this area of land where you have placed us and where you would have us work.

References : Joshua 14:6-15

The End of the World looks like Donegal

I never thought that the ends of the earth would look like County Donegal. But as we drove round bays and craggy inlets from Santiago in north west Spain to reach the village of Finisterre, I felt that I had come to the end of the world, and it felt somehow like home.

Maybe it was the combination of the green fields and hedges, gentle mists and clear sunlight, maybe the Celtic music playing from one of the cellars in the small fishing village, but it all conjured up for me the west of Ireland. We had come north from Lisbon for a short break and were attracted by the promise of cool and unchangeable weather, the possibility of wild and stormy seas, and dramatic scenery. As it turned out the day we arrived was calm and idyllic with a clear sky and warm sunshine. However we woke next morning to a cloudy sky and a mild drizzle!! Now that's more like the Ireland I know!!

Now, apparently, when the Romans first came to this craggy corner of Europe, they looked out over the ocean and reasoned that this was it – that there was nothing else out there, that they had reached the end of the world. And so they named it “finis-terra” the end of the earth. And so is been called that since those days.

As we walked the narrow peninsula from the village out to the point of Cape Finisterre, my thoughts went back to those early disciples, and how they gathered around Jesus after his resurrection, when He told them that they were to be His witnesses, starting in Jerusalem, through Judea and Samaria, and from there to the “Ends of the Earth”. I wonder what went through their minds. Was it this place in Galicia that they though of – as far as you could sail out to the west over the Great Sea, and then to traverse that massive land over to its western edge. It certainly was in Paul’s mind and plans to bring the gospel to Spain. And James is also supposed to have lived and ministered here.

I supposed the “Ends of the Earth” is a subjective term and depends very much on where your starting point is. For us, now, it would probably be considered Antarctica, or some remote isle in the Pacific – but the Pacific Islander, for his part, might consider it to be in the bowels of New York City or some other great soulless city! Whatever it is, that is where the commission takes to us, the urge to declare God’s glory, and to share the wonder of Jesus throughout this world of ours. For us right now, our “ends of the earth” happen to be in a corner of Lisbon. And what a delight! What a privilege to be able to do this, and to do so, knowing that the great God who commands us, also promises His eternal, loving personal presence to go with us, even until the end of the Age.

The Five Kings from the Orient

We’re currently on an intensive one month summer course at the University of Lisbon which includes Portuguese culture as well as language. Today we had a potted history of the Islamic conquest of the region of the Iberian peninsula, later to become Portugal, by the Moors in the 12th century and the struggles of the early Portuguese leaders to retake their territory. One key battle took place on St James Day 1139, the Battle of Ourique, in which Prince Afonso Henrique vanquished five kings of the Moors, and was thereby proclaimed Afonso I, the first king of Portugal.

Over time the event has acquired a number of accompanying legends, especially concerning the possibility of divine intervention. Saint James the Great (the disciple of Jesus, called in Portuguese Santo Iago) is said to have appeared from Heaven and helped the Portuguese win the day. Whether or not that little bit of information is true, one mystery that surrounds the whole battle is the fact that Ourique is located in the southern part of present day Portugal, way down toward the Algarve, deep into enemy territory and some 150 km beyond the line that divided the Moors from the Portuguese. It would have required a raid of spectacular daring and ingenuity to have penetrated so far south and managed to inflict so much damage. But there you have it. The event is enshrined even in the coat of arms in the centre of the Portuguese flag – the five shields in the centre are supposed to represent the five Moorish kings.

For me it’s a lesson on being bold, taking impossible risks and showing true daring when you believe strongly enough in something. When Joshua was handed the near impossible task of leading a huge multitude of people across the Jordan river and into territory already occupied by a wide range of different peoples, he needed to have a huge sense of purpose and confidence in God.

And in the book of Joshua we read how God encourages Johua to believe:

"Moses my servant is dead.
Now then, you and all these people, get ready to cross the Jordan River
into the land I am about to give to them—to the Israelites.
I will give you every place where you set your foot, as I promised Moses.
Your territory will extend from the desert to Lebanon, and from the great river,
the Euphrates—all the Hittite country—to the Great Sea on the west.
No one will be able to stand up against you all the days of your life.
As I was with Moses, so I will be with you;
I will never leave you nor forsake you.

Joshua 1: 2-5

Amazing words, and more amazing still when you realise and understand that the God who led Joshua on that amazing journey, continues to lead people like us, continues to make solid and lasting promises, and continues to grant success to those who trust and wholly lean on Him!!

God is a DJ

Maxi Jazz, the vocalist with the British trip-hop band "Faithless", famously sang in 1998.

“This is my Church.
This where I heal my hurts….
…..for tonight, God is a DJ”

When I first listened to this track, I thought, hey this is blasphemy. To equate God with a disc jockey, the Church with a discotheque. But as I think about it, and as the night air wafts the sounds of Iron Maiden performing at the Super Bock Rock Festival at the north end of the Park through our bedroom window at half past midnight, I think to myself. Well, is he not just expressing the reality of how life is for thousands out there, jumping up and down by the River Tejo? We don’t know God, but we do know this! We connect together. We jump around. It’s awesome. We feel good.

July is the month of Festivals, Events, Concerts here in Lisbon. It gets totally crazy. You’re spoilt for choice – jazz (Diana Krall), rock (Bob Dylan), classical or whatever you want. No wonder everybody goes to ground in August!! But for now there’s something on almost every night. We’ve had the rock festival up the road from our apartment block over the last couple of nights. I’ve never been that familiar with the sound of Iron Maiden, but a quick surf of the internet washed up the lyrics of one of the songs they blasted out on the night air. And it’s intriguing. Entitled “Hallowed be thy Name”, it’s about a guy on his last night before facing the death penalty and it end with this

When you know that your time is close at hand

Maybe then you’ll begin to understand

Life down there is just a strange illusion

Maybe we need to work a little bit harder at connecting with this “church”, to find ways in, and to help make our God, the God we know, the God of love and compassion, who’s rich and unfathomable and holy, their “D.J.”, providing the authentic rhythms for their lives.

Almost Independence Day

Well 5th July was not so far off the mark. But since the 4th July fell on a Friday it seemed more appropriate to our American friends who live in the next block to throw a party in the forest of Monsanto on the other side of the Lisbon on the Saturday afternoon. So there we were, 40 or so of us including children and babies, all friends and neighbours of Ryan and Dana, plus friends from our little Church fellowship along with 5 kgs of beef for the hamburgers!! And apart from Ryan and Dana, not a single citizen of the US of A among us!

As it turned out, I ended up celebrating two Independence Days on the one day, if you can follow me. Surreal, I know. But it just so happens that, 5th July is also the Independence Day of the Cape Verde Islands (a former Portuguese colony off the west coast of Africa), and, with my love of Cabo Verde music, I jumped at the opportunity when neighbour Carlos suggested going to a Cabo Verdean club downtown to celebrate his country’s independence after we’d finished with the American one!!

Anyway back to the forest and the burgers patiently waiting to be fried. On arrival at Monsanto, a notice in the forest informed us that from 1st July to 15th August there was a strict ban on campfires and barbeques in forest parks due to the high incidence of forest fires in the summer months. A quick consultation and it was back to the apartment for myself, Ryan and José to fry up at home and blacken a few kitchens. But, all in all, it was great fun chatting and connecting with people. Oh, and by the way, after the official party ended, the music was good too, in Casa de Morna, at Alcantara from 11:00 to 01:30

The Cabo Verdeans are such that, you only have to set one down on a stool and put a guitar in his hand, and out comes this wonderful rhythmic music that combines Brazil with Senegal with Portugal, and all sorts of other sounds and rhythms in between. Carlos, himself is involved in a support group here that helps immigrants who come to Lisbon for medical treatment but need a lot of support. I am looking forward to helping him in some of the good work he does there.

Winners!

Madrid yesterday was awash with colour, welcoming home the conquering heroes of Euro2008. Life here in Lisbon, 7 hours away, goes on as normal. I think that people were happy enough for their neighbours, first cousins really, but felt that it really should have been Portugal up there on the podium.

But there can only be one champion, one team to raise the cup aloft, one team to bask in all the glory. And all the rest go away, as Anne Robinson would say in that terribly English accent, with nothing.

Well, whether, its Euro2008 or Wimbledon we’re used to the fact that, in sport, as in a lot of other things, that’s the way life is. But when St Paul, states that in a race “all the runners run, but only one gets a prize” * , and implies that he's talking about the spiritual life, we tend to throw up our hands and say, Hey, Wait a minute! If you’re talking living for God, finding the way into Heaven, are you saying that only one person will win in the end, and everyone else will be disqualified? That’s not fair! What about all my efforts, all my struggles? Don’t they count for anything? Is God going to exclude me because I didn’t quite make the grade?

Well, I thought about that for a bit, and it struck me, that yes, it's true. There is only one winner. Because the bar is raised so high that noone but the best can achieve it. The standard is perfection, God’s holiness, “no immoral, impure or greedy person will inherit the Kingdom of Christ and of God”.** There's no place for anything but one hundred performance. Otherwise, God's kingdom would be admitting weakness, faults, imperfection, When Andy Murray fought back from two sets down to Gasquet yesterday, he showed amazing strength of character, as well as huge ability and skill. But if he had not in the end got to Match Point and won the game, he would have been out. All of the effort, the training, the self belief would have counted for nothing. There would in the end be no reward. And that's exactly where we lie. All our efforts do not in the end bring us up to God's standard of perfection.

There can only be one champion. And there is!! His name is Jesus. And for us, in spite of all of our best efforts, the only way that we can enjoy the victory parade and hold aloft the cup is by being part of His team. Believing in Him, knowing that He’s a winner, and that He is able to save completely those who come to God through Him. ***

* 1 Cor 9:24
** Eph 5:5
*** Heb 7:25

On Sardines and Saints

Today June 13^th is St Anthony's Day here in Lisbon. And it’s a public holiday as well, though just here within the city limits, not in the rest of Portugal. Anthony of Padua is the patron saint of Lisbon and a hugely popular saint – somewhat on a level with how St Patrick is regarded in Ireland.

His feast is being celebrated here in style!! We went down yesterday evening to the City centre which was jam packed with people celebrating through the evening. The smoke of barbecued sardines filled the evening air. The sangria was flowing and people were dancing in the streets. And everywhere you went, you would see little figurines of this humble monk holding a child. It didn’t seem to blend in too easily with all the partying going on. I decided to do a little bit of research myself and it seems to me that when you peel away all the hagiography, there’s a true man of God behind the legend, a Preacher of the Word, a Disciple of Jesus, a Missionary of the Gospel.

Born into a wealthy family in Lisbon in 1195, Anthony rejected the opulent life he’d inherited, entered a monastery in Coimbra, where he also became uncomfortable with the complacency he encountered in that academic world. When a group of five Franciscan monks passed through on their way to Morocco, and when their martyred remains were returned to the monastery a short time afterward, he felt irresistibly drawn to a path of simplicity, of missionary outreach, and of devotion to Christ. That path took him to Morocco, Sicily, Italy and France, eventually dying in Padua after only 10 years of active ministry. He was renowned as a Preacher and a man who could open up God’s word and who was not afraid to challenge unbelief and hypocrisy wherever it was found.

........................................................................Hmm I think I’d like to be someone like that.

Oh, and by the way, about the sardines. Well, legend has it that, once when his preaching was not being received by the people of the city, that he went out and preached at the side of the sea. No sooner had he spoken a few words when suddenly so great a multitude of fish, both small and great, approached the bank on which he stood. All the fish kept their heads out of the water, and seemed to be looking attentively on St Anthony's face; all ranged in perfect order and most peacefully, the smaller ones in front near the bank, after them came those a little bigger, and last of all, were the water was deeper, the largest. The people of the city, hearing of the miracle, made haste to go and witness it. I'd say that is more about the hagiography and less about the man!!

About his preaching, St Anthony had this to say

"I ask that if you find anything edifying, anything consoling, anything well presented, that you give all praise, all glory and all honor to the Blessed Son of God Jesus Christ. If on the other hand, you find anything that is ill composed, uninteresting or not to well explained, you impute and attribute it to my weakness, blindness, and lack of skill."