the final count

Living Light Wellington’s first Sunday meeting is this week.  The past couple of weeks have felt like the “final count” – there’s an undercurrent of tension present when you’re poised for the count at a starting line or on New Year’s Eve, even if the tension is mostly exciting.  In this case, the tension is felt in a few ways: the higher consistency of meetings, unexpected time dedicated to administrating details that will prove to be important…it’s a matter of helping people find their places and giving them the tools to go.  I’m half participant, half observer in this process with the living situation being such as it is, and I’m very glad for both perspectives. 

Preparing for the church weekend away has been an added dynamic during the past few weeks.  The weekend was something of a blur, as I ended up heading up the kids’ work and being pretty actively involved in the worship.  All in all, though, it was fantastic: God spoke, we had great times together in the presence of God, there was plenty of unhurried time for people to spend together, and there were ample English novelties for this American to enjoy.  Here are a few highlights:

Welcome to Brunel Manor.  This is the view as you pull in.

 The front door.  Why residential doors were ever designed to fit elephants through, I’m not sure, but it’s a welcome break from the standard glass revolving doors we Americans are used to.









About one third of the main staircase.  Ever so slightly reminiscent of Hogwarts…ask me how many times I sprinted up and down just because it gives the sensations of trail running and flying, respectively.

 




My room, affectionately dubbed my “hobbit hole”.  I am standing with the camera just outside the door frame.  Floor space was about 2x5 feet.


…But no matter the size, the English are committed to necessities.  Every room came equipped with its own teakettle and assortment of coffees and teas.  A personal sink basin was to the left. 










Fun times with the kids.  During one of the sessions, the kids were tied together and sent on a scavenger hunt on the manor grounds.  Here they are getting ready:

                                                          

 Evening entertainment includes food, of course.  One of the Saturday night traditions are  elaborate cheese platters filled with apples, pears, tomato chutney, piccalilli, and of course, an extravagant variety of cheeses from all over Europe.  I’ll save my exultations for an entirely food-devoted post.

Brunel weekend has the feel a big family reunion- far more laid-back than the annual OCM conference.  By necessity, next year will no doubt be different.  Wondering what it will be like a year after church planting is a bit like wondering what your life will look like in ten years’ time…but who knows?  The next few weeks may give a little insight…

just the facts

I’ve had an aversion to blogging for years.  I even have a soapbox especially dedicated to it, but the irony or using my own blog to debunk blogging is too embarrassing to allow me to ever climb up on it.  After the fourth of fifth person felt that God impressed upon them the importance of recording what happens this year, I decided it might be better to humble myself as it concerns blogging rather than risk ignoring helpful instruction from the Lord.

That being the history, I’m not entirely sure of the best approach here…my tendency would be to drag you along whatever "internal processing" I’m having at the moment without giving you any context for it.  Sorry about that.  I’m learning slowly and realizing it might be helpful to just have some answers to basic questions.  So here are some raw facts for a start:

Where are you, exactly?

home sweet home

Wellington, Somerset, England.  I live on the third floor of the house on the corner.  My window looks out over the town to the hills.

What is Wellington like?

A cocktail of Tolkien’s Hobbiton and the town in which I grew up.  High Street is the only major road in Wellington, and from our front gate, you can reach it on foot in five minutes.  Just walk up past the Indian takeaway place, the habadashery (read this as, “shop full of random spools of yarn, thermal socks, garden trowels, and fresh flowers”), and the South African shop, and you’re there.  High Street is teeming with people from about 9:00 am to 5:00, at which time everything closes. (And forget going anywhere on Sundays…even the grocery stores close at 4:00.) There is a cinema that plays one movie at a time.  There are no fast food establishments.

hand-drawn maps: more Middle-earth parallels

What is the food like?

It’s good.  Really good.  Probably too good for my own good.  The first time I ate a carrot, I felt like Charlie trying one of Willy Wonka’s Everlasting Gobstoppers for the first time…there is no rational explanation for a mouthful having that much flavor.  Everything fresh is like that- devoid of GMO tweaking and processing and consequently, delicious.  Unfortunately, everything else- meats, hearty meals, and most of all, “puddings” (desserts)- are also excellent. (This is probably the place where I insert instagrammed photos of my breakfasts…stay tuned for those riveting updates.)

What are people like?

I constantly have the impulse to grab complete strangers in a bear hug.  I haven’t done it yet, mostly because the average person seems shocked by someone just saying ‘hello’ and asking how the day is going.  So, people are reserved…but usually warm if you doggedly pursue a conversation.  Conversations can fizzle quickly at the mention of “church” or “God”- another reason I pray for words of knowledge.  That cloud of apathy and heaviness commonly hangs over people, making friendliness, kindness, and encouragement feel like light in darkness in a markedly tangible way.

What do you do every day?

I roll out of bed before dawn, shove my feet into my Asics, and run a few miles- usually in the rain.  After I’m back and cleaned up, I make my first cup of tea for the day, get in the Word, and pray.  I ask the Holy Spirit where I should go and who I should talk to.  I ask for words of knowledge.  When I know I have meetings scheduled or errands to run, I ask him to speak to me for people and situations there.  And then I try to do it.  I see people- in the church and outside- lots.

last flowers of autumn...

When I’ve got “free time” from doing these things, I work on learning the Thriller dance with the girls, get beaten in Uno by the younger two (they cheat…really), chat with John and Kim, and disappear into the remote countryside for an hour or two.  The latter usually involves trying to keep my wellies on my feet rather than left behind in the mud, avoiding nettles (more annoying than a bee sting), and crawling under barbed wire fences.  It’s absolutely fantastic.

What’s happening with the church?

We’ve had to push the start date back to November 18.  We’re going to be meeting in one of the local schools…though we’re not sure which one yet.  Once everything is kicked off, there will be plenty to do.  Until then, I’m “researching” as much as I can…what is the general “atmosphere”?  What are the good things in the community?  What are the issues?  Where are the poor?  Is poverty even an issue?  What’s the best way to connect with people here?

Is the weather really that bad?

one of my walking routes...this is why wellies are essential!

Not as bad as I anticipated.  Every six days or so, the skies clear up, and then everything looks stunning- like the background photo here.  After about four hours of this, the rain usually returns.  I’ve given up on ever doing my hair.

There you go.  I’m gradually remembering to take photos, so I’ll aim to give you more visuals and less philosophical meanderings from now on.  

nike-ing apathy

apathy:

1.  absence or suppression of passion, emotion, or excitement.

2.  lack of interest in or concern for things that others find moving or exciting.

3.  indifference

As I pried my eyes open two mornings ago, I wasn’t sure of which was louder: my alarm clock or this word resounding in my head in rhythm with the irritating bleeping.  I was just working out a good reason to tuck myself a little further under the duvet (I’m constantly amazed by my nearly involuntary powers of self-justification at 5:45 am) when the Holy Spirit interrupted my internal monologue:

“I want you to study this word because you need to understand what you’re feeling and what you’re facing as a church.”

I’d felt really strange for a few days…sort of restless, but I didn’t really want to do anything.  Maybe discontent is a better word.  I found myself wanting to avoid conversations and issues and…people.  Vaguely discouraged by the current circumstances, which chiefly involve immigration challenges.  And the more I took notice of this feeling, the more disillusioned I felt about things ahead, and the more I wanted to avoid it all, anyway, all leading to subtly whispered questions in my mind: what’s the point, anyway?  Who really cares about anything we’re trying to do?  And with that question, a strange heaviness settled around my shoulders and down my spine, like a horribly overweight backpack.

Consequently, the voice of the Holy Spirit came as relieving insight.  This strange feeling of discontented lethargy leading to listless discouragement and purposelessness…it’s apathy.  And it’s not simply the byproduct of my own fluctuating emotions.  It’s the spiritual climate here, if you will, and it seeps into everything the way the damp drafts from the rain tend to chill even the sturdiest buildings.

Spiritual battle and the intense challenge of pioneering the gospel generally conjures images of living in squalor in some remote desert or rainforest where you’re never sure if you’ll be arrested or shot for acknowledging Jesus.  I have the utmost respect for the men and women who live in this type of battle zone.   But in the West, the battleground is far less obvious.  Here, counterattacks to kingdom advancement are not so much physical danger, job and property loss, and imprisonment; they are depression, workaholic tendencies, materialism…and apathy.

The most desperate thing about the West is that isn’t desperate.  Christian or not, we Westerners have enough grocery shopping, work deadlines, unanswered emails, and social engagements to occupy us from dawn until dusk- no, midnight.  These produce a paralysis in the Church; we are indifferent because we don’t have time to notice needs that are relatively invisible to middle class living.  And outside the Church, they provide a necessary diversion from gnawing emptiness and hopelessness.  The West doesn’t care because it doesn’t have to care, and this indifference is the apathy that settles in like a heavy fog.  It’s a helpful momentary narcotic that produces side effects of purposelessness, depression, and the vague sense that this is “as good as it’s probably going to get”.

Jesus addresses this issue of apathy in the “lukewarm” Laodicean church (Rev. 3:14-22).  Each of the seven churches is commissioned to overcome an aspect of opposition.  Some, like the church in Smyrna, faced imprisonment and death- understandably some things to overcome.  Just a few verses later, however, the Laodicean church is commanded to overcome lukewarm apathy.

Really??

I was stunned as I read this again this week.  Jesus addresses apathy as if it is as substantial a foe to the church as physical torture.  Bravely facing loss of property and family strikes me as noble sacrifice.  Facing apathy strikes me as…normal.  But apparently, fighting each of these is considered a worthy fight with a promised victory- if we acknowledge the enemy and engage in the battle.

The Greek word for “overcome” is “nike”.  Long before the advent of the immortalized “swoosh”, Nike was the Greek goddess of victory.  She was typically depicted triumphantly standing with her foot on the neck of her enemies.  Consequently, Jesus’ invitation to the churches to “nike” is a statement declaring his supremacy- over persecution, over culture, and even over world government.

I love that.  Apathy is not some state of “normal” into which we must resignedly settle; it is a very real enemy that we are invited to nike.  It rouses me out of the discouraged lethargy that wants to creep in and inspires me to fight.  And wonderfully, fighting is not a strain and struggle- it is simply worshipping, asking the Holy Spirit to fill me, and attending to the primary business of getting my soul “happy in the Lord”, as George Mueller puts it.

So this is one of the battles we’ll be fighting here inside and outside of the Church.  When I become aware of the attack here, I'm purposing to stop the walk down the slippery slope of my thoughts and connect with the Lord instead.  I’m glad to be aware that this is a very real battle, not a normative state we settle for.  And I’m even more glad that nike-ing is something promised- for us, for the church here, and for the city.

learning to see

“Good morning, Holy Spirit.”

I’m re-learning to make these words the first ones out of my mouth in the predawn hours of the morning.  The “routine” of life makes it easy to slip from this habit: we know where we’re going and what we’re going to do in a given day, and if you’re like me, the day easily becomes a game of trying to accomplish everything as quick as possible.  Making it a game relieves that horrible, nagging pressure that we in the West feel- the heavy, almost panicky sense that there are simply not enough hours in the day to meet all of the demands.  We Westerners thrive on our “to-do” lists: checking the boxes of people we’ve seen, tasks we’ve completed, and dare I say, the ways we’ve served...I’ve lived most of my life as the poster child of Western drive.  And I’ve enjoyed it, thank you very much.  No matter how many times I take the Strengths Finder test, I come out with “Achiever” as my top characteristic every time.  Fine with me.

The only problem with this is that it makes it difficult to see.

We all look at plenty in a given day.  Most of it gets little more than a passing glance, though…we tend to see the next task at hand, see the people in the room who we like most, see the innumerable challenges to getting to wherever it is we want to go.  We have preferences, and we have plans.  The idea of “reaching out” tends to strike us as a grand initiative; we know it’s what we’re meant to do, and we know it’s where we’re going, but…there’s just so much to do.

Busyness is often blamed as the culprit.  But maybe how much we have to do is less of an issue than what we see.

Recently, God told me that it was time to start “embracing the interruptions”.  This is a challenging word to us Type A Introvert Achievers.  But I’ve been doing my best to take wobbly steps in that direction.  I’ve started to ask to see again.  This means that when I go into a shop, out for a meal, or walk down the street, I make eye contact rather than focus all my attention on the next box to be checked or even on the friend I’m with.  It means that I greet people- as many as possible- and ask how their days are going.  It means that as I go through my tasks, I ask the Holy Spirit to help me notice anyone I should talk with.  It means that when I notice someone- a particularly sad or happy face, a pregnancy, an injured limb- I ask God whether he wants to say something to them or do something for them.

And it means that I start the day by saying, “good morning, Holy Spirit”.

This helps me remember that the day belongs to him.  He owns my life, which includes my to-do list.  He doesn’t seem to be opposed to the lists, generally, but he does reserve the right to interrupt or adjust those lists however he likes.  And since he owns me, I am his responsibility.  This means that if life starts to be chaotic, making me feel the need to “get on top of things” and making an extra conversation or interruption seem like an overwhelming idea, it is his responsibility to make sure that everything comes together as it needs to in the end.  It’s his responsibility to make sure that there’s money in the bank account and food on the table.  Fortunately, he’s a very responsible God who hasn’t dropped the ball on this, no matter how many times my very important plan for the day has been interrupted.

Here, the structure of my day is determined by saying, “good morning”.  I ask him where to go and when to do things, asking to see clearer.  It’s coming, although it feels slow sometimes.  Today I set out for town, planning to go a shop.  Sure enough, he interrupted, telling me to go to a new coffee shop instead.  Given the day’s plan, it seemed like the least convenient option.  But I gave up the discussion and went there…sure enough, an elderly gentleman ended up in line right behind me.  Within a few minutes, he told me with tears in his eyes about losing his wife of 40 years.  He comes to the coffee shop at exactly that time on Fridays, Saturdays, and Mondays.  We planned to meet on Monday.  I’ll be bringing friends, as this is exactly what he needs.  After I sat down, a young family with a pregnant mother ended up at the next table, and I knew God was speaking to me for her baby.  I shared it in the end- not well, maybe, but I know it was obedience.

On the way home, I passed a boy just outside his house whose arm was in a sling.  I knew I should stop and ask to pray for him…but I didn’t.  Why not?  I don’t know.  It’s humbling…these are wobbly first steps, indeed.  I'm learning to see.  Thank God that when I miss it, I can start again the next day by saying, “good morning, Holy Spirit”.

there and back again...beginnings

10.09.12

We live in the Shire.

Granted, I can be one of “those” people- extreme Tolkien fanatics who have the annoying tendency of relating everything to Lord of the Rings.  But honestly…houses with thatched roofs sit behind tall green hedges, narrow aged roads and footpaths wind through green rolling hills, everyone knows everyone, and places have names like “Buckland” and “Rivendell Cottage”.  (I’m not kidding; it’s a charming little bungalow that looks like it was cut out of a Thomas Kincade postcard.)

I love it.  I love that a ten minute walk can get me either to High Street, the local grocer, or the boundary of The Hills, from which I can disappear into remote, stunningly beautiful countryside for hours on end. (This background is a view from the edge of it.) I love the marketplace feel of a place not yet bullied into supermarkets and shopping plazas.  I love that our house is surrounded by an eight-foot hedge and an iron gate.  I love that carrots and cucumbers are full of local flavor.  I love that “calling” on a neighbor results in an hour-long chat over a cup of tea- tea being symbolic of the sharing of hospitality, life, and community.

It’s so natural this time.  There’s usually a few days of adjustment during which I’m incredibly aware of the million subtle, unspoken differences between the sister cultures.  But none of that this time; it’s like coming back to your childhood home- a sense of comfort and nostalgia, like curling up in your favorite armchair.

It feels wrong somehow.  Surely I should feel the “trial” of missions already- a sense of loss and sacrifice and the intimidating challenge ahead.  And I know it will come- there’s enough that God is speaking and enough paths that I’ve crossed to make me aware that there are challenges enough ahead- I don’t yet have my head around everything that’s coming yet.  I’m eager to “get dirty” with the work of it and don’t prefer to sit too long. 

But I can’t force the pace now- there’s still the slow, patient work of waiting on the Holy Spirit here.  And in the meantime, I know that I can choose: one option being anxiety and frustration that at nearly one week in the country, there’s not yet a clear format and paved road ahead.  Or I can choose the alternative: to accept with gratitude the odd discomfort of finding something easy and enjoyable.  So many prophetic words came about finding ease and lavish blessing here; it’s strange to feel the challenge of accepting them!

Today it poured, forcing me mostly indoors and producing the first twitches of impatience.  But I’ve come back to thankfulness, and I am intensely thankful.  Yes, I’m eager to go to work, and I am praying intently, asking God for insight, strategy, and opportunities.  In the meantime, I’m going to go thoroughly enjoy a cup of tea (is that the fourth or fifth cup today?) and an apple bought from a local farmer.