As I
have considered (and usually delayed) our re-entry into the blogosphere over
these past few weeks, I imagined it would simply be a case of picking up where
we left off. And so, poring over our last entry written back in late 2013, I’m
not half amused to read a not-so-solemn promise that we’d be posting
irregularly on the furlough phenomenon during 2014.
Well,
it’s the thought that counts, is it not?
It’s
not quite the case that we’ve been too busy to write; probably just that the
blog is very much part of our Bolivia routine, and we never quite found a way
to fit it in to things here in Scotland and in Canada. Home assignment, indeed,
has been a true eye-opener, and I have no doubt that we could, in future, put
pen to paper on the joys and sorrows of an extended period away from Bolivia.
It is as important a time in the life and work of overseas Christian workers as
that on the field, and just as we have done with the blog these past five
years, we would be keen to give those on the outside looking in a better
appreciation of what missionaries go through when they come home.
But that book deal will have to wait for
another day. For now, as something of a dipping of the toe back in these
waters, I (Craig) shall offer some thoughts specific to my own experience of
these past thirteen months.
The world is more
beautiful than I remembered
 |
| The Ring of Steall |
In
the end, I didn’t exactly spend ‘a decent chunk of my Saturdays…on top of hills’,
as I’d been promising myself back in December 2013. In that regard, I’d fatally
overlooked two important realities of home assignment: a tight budget, and the
eye-watering cost of fuel (which, inevitably, is only now beating a steady
retreat).
Still,
the year abounded with those moments of connection with the natural world which
will forever remain seared on my consciousness. I’ll think back on the view
over the wilderness of Rannoch Moor on that improbably sun-drenched April
morning during our conquest of the West Highland Way. Or contemplating my tee shot at the 10th on Royal Dornoch’s
Struie Course, as the sun caught the higher peaks of the Dornoch Firth. Or the
lesson in humility and smallness that is Alaska’s Tracy Arm Fjord (particularly
enjoyable from the private corner I managed to find on a 1,400-capacity cruise
liner). Or the afternoon spent in the company of humpback whales on the same
trip. Or the pleasure in conquering ten Munros. Or December’s surprising – yet
welcome – opportunity to drive to a last-minute church date in Kyle of
Lochalsh, and happily consent to being dumbstruck by Buchaille Etive Mor one
last time.
We will
be going back to the natural beauty of the Beni region in due course, but my
goodness, it has been a joy to re-connect with the inclines and declines of the
North.
And the world has
come to Scotland
My
lunch routine while attending Cornhill Scotland usually involved a two-minute
toddle from its Bath Street headquarters to the Sainsbury’s Central on Buchanan
Street. The backing noise was almost always a constant murmur of foreign
tongues. Prolonged absences like ours tend to accentuate trends, and there is
no doubt that Glasgow in particular has never seen such ethnic diversity as it
does today. Yes, that brings its own challenges – but, oh, what tremendous
opportunities! Should the Lord bring us back to Scotland in the years ahead,
our days of ministry to the nations would be anything but over.
Ministry is in our
veins
And
wherever we’d end up, we’re pretty certain that we’ve now passed a ‘point of no
return’ when it comes to our 9-to-5.
A
further affirmation of this took place in early July. For years, Amanda had
waxed lyrical to me about those endless summers she, her family and friends
would spend at a place called ‘Guelph Bible Camp’, effectively demanding that I
join her in camp counselling work in the event of us ever being back in Canada
for the summer. Inevitably, once our rough plans for 2014 were in place, those
pleas re-surfaced, and I agreed, albeit reluctantly – by this time in Bolivia,
I was exhausted, desperate to come home and get a bit of R&R, and most definitely
not seeking out new ministry opportunities.
Well,
Guelph Bible Youth Camp 2014 turned out to be probably the most purposeful,
life-affirming and purely enjoyable week of the year. Cornhill, of course, had
been a wonderful experience, but Guelph was our first proper opportunity of the
year to put that learning into practice and, above all, minister the word of
God to young people who, delightfully, were hungry for it. If those special
seven days were merely a foretaste of the next two or three years in Bolivia,
then the 15th of January could hardly come any sooner.
‘The darkness has not
overcome it’
 |
| The lads and lassies of Cornhill Scotland |
We
are slowly but surely learning to beware drawing sweeping conclusions from
afar. Occasionally during our time away from Bolivia, we have heard of
developments on the field that concern us a little. At the same time, we are
all too aware that a distance of over 6,000 miles prevents us from having a
fuller appreciation of things in Trinidad. This stops us from getting too wound
up about said matters.
A
significant contributing factor to this mentality has been our experience of
things the other way around. During our four years in Trinidad, all the
information we needed about an ever-gathering spiritual gloom in the UK and
Canada was just a click away. Chaplains were being thrown out of schools,
governments were busily re-defining that which God has definitively delineated,
and, most depressingly of all, the Church of Scotland was proving itself about
as useful a protector of the Christian faith as a three-year-old child of a bag
of chocolate buttons.
None
of the above has been reversed, of course, and I suspect we westerners had
better brace ourselves for ever more hostile conditions. But the benefit of
this year for us has been to witness the lives and work of those who refuse to
succumb, to hear of those outside-the-box thinkers who are speaking
prophetically into the most surprising of situations, to witness a generation
who have had to decide like never before where they stand, and who are choosing
with pleasure to plant their feet in the ground marked ‘Solid Rock’: to see, if
you will, the bigger picture.
Four
years abroad pales in comparison to the four decades that a couple we know
spent engaged in overseas Christian ministry; we had the pleasure of their
company earlier this year. They, too, are concerned at the general direction of
society, yet claim to have never witnessed such wholehearted commitment to the
cause of Christ among students and young adults. If the group of young men and
women I had the pleasure of studying alongside at Cornhill are anything to go
by, their optimism is well justified.
No man is an island
 |
| With the Dove family in Ohio |
Not
exactly a revelation, this. We have never lacked in friendships in Trinidad, a
most hospitable town, but the majority of these – by necessity, of course –
have tended to require that we shoulder the burdens of others, rather than
experience a more balanced ‘weight distribution’, if you like. This is the experience of many involved in
full-time Christian ministry. So it has been tremendously energising to be
around friends and family who have made time for us, opened their homes to us,
and prayed with us, granting us full permission to behave in as undignified a
manner as the occasion will permit.
Thrillingly,
some of these are people we did not even know this time last year, further
proof in particular of the value of my time at Cornhill. Indeed, in a few
cases, Amanda and I have had the pleasure of spending significant
extra-curricular time with these students and (where applicable) their spouses.
Having
lived abroad for many years, we do not expect to be able to maintain regular
contact with all such individuals. But what an encouragement to know that the
work in Bolivia will feature in the thoughts and prayers of so many more.
We have a great
church family
This
one really was a revelation. Having
attended Shettleston New for almost two years before going to Bolivia, we knew
this to be the case, but it has only been in the last year that we have
realised how scant our evidence was for such a judgement.
Our
experience of fellowship on a Sunday back then would typically revolve around a
core group of friends in the church at a similar age and stage to ourselves. I
would play bass with them in the church music group, then we would meet
together for a chat in the coffee area post-service, with the banter train more
often than not chuntering along to another venue as the afternoon progressed.
We knew the names and faces of many others, but in most cases, that was as far
as it went. Indeed, come to think of it, our midweek Bible study group was
largely made up of the same people.
Fast-forward
four years, and that friendship group (with whom we are still in regular
contact) had moved on to various other fellowships around the city. Would we
still feel at home at Shettleston New?
Any
doubts were dispelled within minutes of our first entrance that December
morning as, one after another, people welcomed us with the warmest of embraces.
They had certainly not forgotten us, though our grasp of their names and faces had become tenuous at best.
Thirteen
months later, I suspect things are not quite so one-sided, and it is here that
Amanda has to take a lot of credit. She came here determined to dedicate much
of her time during the week to supporting the work of the church; Wednesdays
were spent helping the mother-and-toddlers ministry, and then serving lunches
to the community, while on Friday mornings she made a point of attending ‘The
New Place’, a time for tea, toast and a blether, which sees a number of
visitors, but is mostly attended by members of the congregation.
As
the year progressed, and as most of our weekends were filled with church
engagements around the UK, Amanda’s midweek presence at Shettleston proved
vitally important in maintaining contact with people we were unable to see on
Sundays. But more importantly, our wider church family have gotten to know us
much better than before in the process. And while we do not doubt the sincerity
of their prayers for us in the past, the emotional connection between us has
been considerably strengthened. They now have greater ownership of us and of
our ministry, and we, to paraphrase Paul in his letter to the Philippians, have
them in our hearts.
