Tenemos Esperanza

The view from our bedroom of a typically beniano sunset last night. Welcome home.

Last Tuesday morning, it came to me again. It came to me, as it so often does, in a moment of tedium, as I was hoovering a patch of the carpet in Sam's bedroom, in preparation for leaving our rented flat just a few hours later. It came to me without warning, and without my realising it. And only a few minutes later did I realise I was once again whistling the melody of 'Tenemos Esperanza'. 

Since I learned this amazing modern hymn back in February in Guatemala, I very much doubt a day has gone by that this veritable earworm, with its incessant tango rhythm, hasn't passed my lips, so to speak (you can read more about the hymn's story and composition here). It is a hymn that reminds us of Christ's incarnation and all that entailed, and therefore as Christians, 'hoy tenemos esperanza' ('we have hope today'), even in the midst of dire circumstances such as those witnessed by its author, and many others in Latin America in recent decades. 

And as I turned off the hoover for a moment and thought for the first time in a months about what I was whistling, mere hours before we were to begin that long journey back to Bolivia and the place where all hope had previously seemed lost, the song took on greater significance. Yes, indeed: we all, as believers, have hope, a hope that can enable us to press on in all circumstances. And that truth is as valid for Amanda, Sam and me as a family, in the particular circumstances we face, as it is for the entire family of God worldwide. Nosotros tenemos esperanza!

It was at this point that I then remembered another hymn we had learned that wonderful week in Guatemala, a hymn that back then had found me in something of a 'valley' and had moved me to tears. Indeed, only the hardest of hearts could have remained unmoved as the song built to a momentous climax and a united people from many tribes and nations in that hall proclaimed,

You will restore the earth, and forever you will reign

and from the face of your people, you will wipe every tear.

To you be all glory, all honour and majesty,

Hope of the nations, our Prince of Peace.

Our hope is, indeed, in the Esperanza de los Pueblos, and all the greater for it. 

In all of this, our gracious God was simply trying to drive home a point previously made. In the previous few weeks, two separate parties, unknown to one another, had commended to us Romans 15:13, which says

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

"You are finally getting this, aren't you?" I could almost hear him whisper in my ear in that empty flat.

The six months in Scotland were merely the start of a long journey. A highly positive start, indeed, but burnout can take up to two years to recover from, and we are seeing that in action. In fact, in many ways -- many positive ways -- we will never quite shake the impact of this past year for the rest of our lives. Back in Bolivia, as we unpack our cases, re-establish old connections, and take steps back in to ministry, we find ourselves in a new crucible in which the Master Smelter can continue his refining work; all of it necessary, much of it very painful. 

But for the first time in a long, long time, we can declare these two precious words with confidence: Tenemos esperanza. And for that, we are excited and grateful.

Prayer Points

• Give thanks for a safe arrival in Trinidad on Saturday, at the end of a pretty exhausting few days! Our route was Edinburgh-Frankfurt-Sao Paulo with Lufthansa (with a separate onward flight to Santa Cruz), and our connection time in Frankfurt was already fairly tight. This was only exacerbated by our delay in leaving Edinburgh last Tuesday evening. We pretty much ran the length of the terminal at Frankfurt...only to arrive literally a couple of minutes after the doors had been closed! And mindful of the airport's late-night curfew, the airline were not for letting us on. This meant we couldn't fly till the same time (10pm) the next day, and we knew the airline would look after us during that time. However, a complication for us was that Sam, as a Bolivian, is only permitted up to twelve hours of transit time, and he is also required to stay in the airport. Mercifully, the transport police were sympathetic to us, and allowed us to stay overnight in the hotel Lufthansa had arranged for us. Having already booked a night in a hotel in Sao Paulo, we simply cancelled that reservation and were able to make the Thursday morning flight to Santa Cruz a few hours after arriving in Brazil. We stayed in Santa Cruz with friends while attending to one or two administrative matters, and set off on Saturday morning for the day-long drive back to Trinidad (our car had been in Santa Cruz since March).
• Give thanks for a really lovely day on Sunday, when we were able to spend a lot of time catching up with people here, thanks to a church lunch and a little birthday celebration for a friend in the evening.
• If we're honest, we're still a little exhausted after last week's exertions. Pray for energy as we re-establish ourselves here this week.
• Please pray particularly for Sam. As far as we can tell, the language adjustment hasn't been an issue, and he's enjoying his daycare. However, there has been a little naughtiness as he's clearly still working things out here again. Pray for patience for us both in dealing with this.
• Finally for now, pray for preparations for the Latin Link Bolivia retreat, which will be taking place next week back in Santa Cruz (mercifully we're flying!).

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig, Amanda & Sam

Saturday Post - 07/01/2017

As many of you might know from following us on Facebook, and from some personal messages, we now have Sam's UK visa. We are exceedingly grateful to be able to go home and are maybe not taking the trip as much for granted as we may have been doing before. Hopefully, this will allow us to enjoy time with friends and family even more once we arrive. Thank you so much to everyone for their prayers and support to us during the last three weeks. We very much felt uplifted.

If at first you don't succeed, stick him in a giraffe jumper.

I (Amanda) have to admit that I did not cope overly well during the last three weeks. My inner angry Amanda was not so easily contained and I spent a lot of time with the strong desire to shake my finger in someone's face. I was not a person filled with grace, and if the embassy had not been in Bogotá, the people there might have found that out for themselves. Obviously, now that we have Sam's passport back with a UK visa stuck inside I feel ashamed at how graceless I've been recently, not just to the imagined meanies in the UK embassy, but to the people around me as well. 

I've been so on edge for a while now with trying to jam so many different things into our lives before we left, that upon receiving a parking ticket (not there was an official ticket issued) on Christmas Eve and having my car clamped (I didn't even know they did that in Trinidad), I had a complete sobbing cry in the police station in front of the police officer. He, however, did not take pity on me and my life circumstances, and refused to reconsider extorting money out of me for his holiday party. The cry just kind of crept up on me until I was suddenly making quite the scene in the police station. As he refused to meet my eyes during the entire exchange, I can only imagine he was as embarrassed as I was. 

I think our biggest problem with the first visa application was that we were extremely naïve and really had no idea what we were doing. We wrongly assumed that because Craig is British they couldn't really deny us the right to travel home. Looking back at the difference in our first and second submission, I realise that our first attempt was really weak and I can kind of understand why they denied it, knowing now what they are actually looking for. While it was a very difficult, expensive and stressful mistake to learn from, we also recognise that it is an important one to have learnt, as we can only imagine how visa applications are going to be a large part of our futures. We definitely feel a bit more confident now, and hopefully will be able to make strong Canadian and US submissions in the coming months, and receive the visas first time around. 

One of my biggest struggles during this time was trying to figure out what God wanted from us. I believe, though sometimes don't always feel, that God's way is the best way. I believe, though don't always feel, that trusting God's plan is the right thing to do. But when the plan is not clear and we have to take one step at a time and wait to see what the next step is, I have felt very confused. I believe that we can't presume to know what God's plan is in any specific situation until he reveals it, and I can't presume that what I want is necessarily what God wants. When Sam's visa didn't come through the first time, we had to consider that God might not want us to go home just now. After prayer and consulting with a friend with embassy experience, we decided to make the second submission and wait and see, but we had to acknowledge that it might be denied again and that God might be closing the door on our plans. It hurt and I was angry, but we tried to work through things as a couple to accept this possibility. However, almost all our Bolivian friends and church family assured us that we would get the visa. And hence, my struggle developed. Were their assurances trite comments that people give to each other, or did they truly have faith that this was what God wanted? The answer to that question probably depends on the specific individual, but I know that for some they genuinely believed that the visa would arrive and that we shouldn't worry. 

Is it theologically sound to assume a specific outcome and presume to know the mind of God? Or should we pray more generally so that we are always praying for the will of God? I have to admit that I have always in the past leant, and probably still lean, towards the second option, because I know from experience that we don't always get what we want and God is still good. However, lately I wonder if I find the second option a safer one. Because to have unshakeable faith in one position over another in any situation sets one up for failure and disappointment. If I had held to the position that God was absolutely going to supply Sam's visa and He would do absolutely everything possible to get us home, I would have been even more devastated with a second rejection. So I wonder if I cling to one theological position over another out of fear, which doesn't sound like a good thing either. Maybe I am cheating myself out of seeing God do big things because it hurts too much when He doesn't always do big things. There has to be a balance, right? Thoughts welcome.

Despite my inner theological turmoil, we decided to pack up the house assuming that we would be away for 6 months, mainly because it made the most sense logistically. However, I like to think we were acting in faith as well. We left Trinidad on the 29th and arrived one day before the annual Latin Link Bolivia conference was due to start. As many people will know, we officially became Latin Link Bolivia members in September (though our sending mission remains LAM Canada) and have been encouraged by visits from our team leader Louis Woodley and Short-term Coordinator Brigitte Borner de Fernández. However, now we had the opportunity to meet the entire team. And the five days we had with everyone was such an encouragement. 

Sam's looking over at his new favourite friend Lisa (green t-shirt). They went
everywhere together and he stared at the gate longingly when her
family left. He couldn't understand why she would leave him.

The annual conference is an opportunity to catch up with one another (and meet people for the first time in our case), learn about everyone's individual ministries, be refreshed and spiritually encouraged and deal with business matters that affect how Latin Link Bolivia operates as a team. Everyone was so welcoming and it all felt very inclusive, and by the end of the five days we honestly didn't feel like the newbies. It feels really good to part of a group again, as we have definitely felt more isolated being the only missionaries at FT these days. LAM Canada has been such a supportive missions agency as well, but we're the only missionaries with them in Bolivia, so we have been missing fellowship. And now we're part of a group that just gets what we go through; they face the same challenges, deal with the same culture differences, and have the same goal. It's wonderfully encouraging. 

During the conference we studied the book of Ruth. Four different people each took a chapter and led us through it, Craig having been asked to lead Ruth 3. Then we went away in small groups and worked on discussion questions that allowed us to be open and honest with each other. We had two sessions in particular as well, one being self-care and the other being mentoring. I have to say that the session on self-care hit me very hard. Essentially, I haven't been doing it and have allowed guilt and insecurities from letting me take care of myself. But the best part of the session was realising that I wasn't alone. Things I had been feeling were laid out in black-and-white as being very typical for missionaries. Craig and I definitely have been challenged about being more intentional in taking care of ourselves. 

Being new members, we were not allowed to vote in the business sessions, but were allowed to contribute. It was interesting to learn more about the structure of the group and how things worked, and we were really encouraged when the annual retreat (this year in La Paz) was scheduled for September, as we will be back in Bolivia by then and able to attend. 

Since the end of the conference, we have been hanging out in Santa Cruz, Craig travelled to La Paz on Thursday to pick up Sam's passport and documents, and now we're slowly starting to get organised for travelling. We leave Santa Cruz on Monday morning for Sao Paolo, where we're spend two nights. We didn't want to make the trip too heavy on Sam, so we decided to break it up a bit, but I know that Craig and I are wanting to just get there now. On Wednesday we take an overnight flight from Sao Paulo to London and arrive on Thursday morning, where we have a two hour layover, and then we head up to Glasgow. So, we're five days away from being home. We are very much looking forward to seeing some of you soon!

Prayer

• Journeying mercies at all stages of the travels, especially for Sam during the eleven-hour trans-Atlantic flight. He is quite an active child who doesn't always like to sit still. 
• For our transition back into life in the UK.
• For our visa applications to Canada and the US.

Praise

• For such a good time at the Latin Link Bolivia Conference.
• For a restful time as a family after such a hectic last few months in Trinidad.
• For how well Sam has handled so many changes already.
• FOR THE UK VISA!

Craig speaking. Home assignment is as much a part of missionary life as the field work, and will doubtless make for some great blog material some day. However, as in 2014, we've opted to lay the Saturday posts to rest until we return to Bolivia in June. We may post occasional updates, but no promises.

Thanks again to everyone out there who reads these missives, from London, to Larkhall, to Lusaka. Most of all, thanks for sharing our burdens of prayer with us. Hope to see you in the coming months.

¡Que Dios les bendiga!

Craig & Amanda

Saturday Post -- 24/01/15

“Ye’ll no miss this weather, will ye.”

The above point was put to us time and again by well-meaning friends over the past few months, with increasing frequency as our departure loomed larger and the west of Scotland skies turned ever more grey. I (Craig) don’t think it was meant as a question, but I tended to take it that way, responding in kind in order to strangle any assumptions about the climate here being particularly pleasant. Given this is rainy season, the last week has in fact been really rather dry, with a half-hour burst of heavy rain most days, but nothing more offensive. Yet at no point during those dry spells have I gazed upon those mid-30s-plus-humidity conditions from the sanctuary of our ventilated four walls and thought, “Cor, I do rather fancy a gentle stroll right now!”

That said, however, it is nice to be back in Trinidad again; nicer, indeed, than we’d expected. We had been bracing ourselves for a tough re-entry, based on our only comparable experience back in October 2011. I wrote back then about a potent and unexpected encounter with culture shock – after a mere two-month absence. How would we cope after thirteen months in a western context?

One week on, and we’re surviving, with two factors no doubt playing their part. Firstly, the memory of 2011’s experience no doubt prompted us to be better prepared emotionally and spiritually. And secondly, if you’ll excuse a touch of materialism, unlike 2011 we have our own house to come back to; in other words, Trinidad, unexpectedly, feels like home again.

The majority of this week has been taken up with unpacking, organising and dumping, and restoring la casa to a state with which we’re more familiar. Providentially, our home assignment year coincided with our friend Rachel Peebles’ return to Trinidad for a twelve-month spell, meaning the house was at least being used; that’s particularly important in climates like this where, if not left unchecked, moth and rust so rapidly destroy. Still, everyone has their preferred settings, and getting it back to a recognisable state was the main task of this week.

Vastly improved internet speeds have also gone some way to soften the
re-adjustment blow!

One task in particular this week was a reminder of how high up the priority-list Taking Pride in One’s Work tends to feature for manual labourers around here (i.e., not very high at all!).

At the end of October, we received a Facebook message from Rachel telling us that one of our balcony windows had been smashed. This turned out to be nothing too sinister in the end; just local kids playing with their slingshots, seeing a particularly glassy house, and putting 2 and 2 together. However, an urgent repair was clearly in order. Naturally, we arranged for the necessary funds to be transferred and, within a week or two, the job had been done.

Well, on Tuesday morning, I was traipsing around the garden trying to deal with a few things, when all of a sudden, I felt a surprisingly crunchy sensation under my shoes. I looked down, and saw about four glistening square yards of thousands upon thousands safety glass particles. Looks like the tidying-up job that November morning had consisted of, er, sweeping the particles off the balcony and hoping nobody would notice!

And so, two days of planned house work went down the black hole of smashed glass recovery. There I was, sat like Oor Wullie on a bucket (in temperatures our mutual dungareed friend could barely conceive of), carefully picking up each individual piece, being careful to avoid injury to hands, and not to place said container on spots where I was liable to bury the glass yet further. A truly shattering experience, I’m sure you’ll concur.

Quite.

The result of these exertions has been that we’ve not had too much time yet with friends and colleagues, save a couple of fleeing visits to the Foundation during work hours, and an evening in the company of our friends Maicol and KC, their now two-year-old Caleb, and KC’s mother, visiting from the States.

Still, it’s been great to renew these acquaintances, and we look forward to their re-deepening in the months ahead. Santa Cruz last weekend also gave us an opportunity to touch base with old friends. Remember my keyboard-playing protégé, Diego? He’s just moved through to Santa Cruz to begin a degree in music, and on Sunday morning we attended a church service with him, before heading out for lunch and finding out how he’s been doing. Now and again out here, if I’m honest, I have my little Elijah moments, when I look around, see so little visible fruit for my efforts, become wracked with self-doubt, and question the worth of my ministry. The progress of a young man like Diego is someone I need to cling to in those times, his presence in Santa Cruz instead of Trinidad not an insult but an inevitability, given the lack of opportunities here.

Livin' for the Citah: With young Diego Asín
in Santa Cruz.

The house pretty much done and dusted -- quite literally, indeed -- today is the day when we will gradually start easing back into things at work. If Friday night is music night on Radio 2, then Saturday night is most definitely youth night in Bolivia. We shall pop along there, and to the main church service tomorrow morning. The challenge right now, as we’ve stated previously, is to maintain the self-discipline to prayerfully seek God’s will for these next few years; I’ve already had to turn down one or two well-intentioned proposals on this basis. But we strongly feel that it is better to sacrifice a couple of weeks in doing this than to spend a couple of years embroiled in things that, while good, are not the better ‘yes’. And so, despite missing the sensation of jeans on our legs, we’re increasingly excited to find out what the Lord has in store.

Prayer

• For continued self-discipline and discernment when it comes to new ministry opportunities, as requested last week and alluded to above.
• Despite what I wrote earlier, we do have the occasional re-adjustment bumps. Pray that we don’t allow these to become a discouragement.

 Praise

• For safety in our final flight to Trinidad, on Monday past.
• For the opportunity to catch up with old Trinidad friends Diego and Claudia in Santa Cruz, and see the mighty work of the Lord in their lives.

Saturday Post -- 17/01/15

This time last week.

Writing from Santa Cruz, where we arrived yesterday in the late afternoon, luggage and sanity just about intact after 30 hours of travelling. Our plan is to be here for a couple more days. Bolivia’s biggest city offers most of the conveniences of a developed world context, while still being unmistakably oriental – i.e., typical of eastern Bolivia and its people. In other words, a few days here en route back to Trinidad tends to ease us back into things a little more gently.

Round about this time last week, we were putting the finishing touches to the sanctuary and coffee area of Strathaven Evangelical Church, where our farewell event was about to take begin. Having received responses to our invitation from far and wide, we had a feeling the numbers would be high, and any doubts regarding this were dispelled when our first visitor came in and took a seat; we had never even met her before!

In all, we reckon the best part of 150 friends came and went over the course of the afternoon, during which we twice gave a short presentation on our return (essentially a more compact version of last week’s blog post), and endeavoured to say cheerio to as many as we could – though this was some task! Indeed, as the afternoon progressed, we became increasingly aware of what a difficult position we’d left ourselves in. We’d long looked at the occasion pragmatically, considering it an efficient way to touch base with, and say goodbye to, as many as possible. But we were probably guilty of overlooking the emotional ramifications of this. With some friends, a quick two minutes simply did not feel like enough. Nonetheless, we can take comfort from the fact that such sadness simply reflected the many happy times we had been afforded with them over the course of the year. We have no cause for complaint.

And, above all, we draw great strength from last weekend’s very tangible reminders -- at Strathaven and at our re-commissioning service the following day at Shettleston -- of our great privilege, to have these people, and several times more around the world, lifting up our needs and our ministry to the Lord in prayer.

Mercifully, we were just about finished packing when
our luggage scales came to an untimely (if inevitable) end.

A good thing, too, because, if we’re honest, in those moments this week when we’ve been able to think about something other than whether the Nintendo (Craig) or favourite pair of jeans (Amanda) will make it into the case, we have felt a little vulnerable. Indeed, I’d go so far as to say that this has been harder than 2010, when the novelty factor kicked any niggling concerns into touch. A good friend of ours pointed out this week that we’re probably feeling a little like Moses by the burning bush – an astute analysis.

We think of how little support there will be for us on the field, relative to the past, and like Moses, we are nervous to go back. We think of the great needs that exist in the Foundation and the church; we then look at ourselves and, like Moses, we feel utterly inadequate to address them. But most of all, we know that God has not yet indicated another path for us, and so, like Moses, we simply must return, knowing that it is not about our faltering efforts, but the God who works through them and despite them.

Still, this is no easy lesson to take on board. On Wednesday evening before bedtime, as is our habit, we took these things to the Lord in prayer, and I’ll admit that I had to stifle the odd sob, as more than once I somehow managed to string together the following words: “Lord, I just do not get this.” No doubt, this is a test of faith, perhaps the most profound we have yet experienced. Yet, for reasons I can’t quite explain, there was an undeniable sweetness to those tears, which spoke at one and the same time of the great uncertainty we felt, and the great joy of doing what we know is the Lord’s will.

Prayer

• For safety for the last leg of our journey back to Trinidad, on Monday afternoon.
• For self-discipline over the next few weeks. It will be extremely tempting to dive right back into things, especially where we see need. Pray that we might resist this, and prayerfully work out what God wants from us, and where we might best use our gifts.
• For patience as we re-adapt to a developing world culture; a big adjustment after a year in the UK and Canada.
• For abundant reserves of faith!

Praise

• For a pretty much hitch-free journey so far. No overweight baggage, a good sleep over the Atlantic, and half price on excess baggage for the flight to Santa Cruz – just because the guy was in a good mood!
• For the many people (like you!) who take a prayerful interest in our ministry, as evidenced by last weekend’s event.
• For an encouraging, stimulating, challenging and (we hope!) maturity-enhancing home assignment year.

A Fond Backward Glance

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 10^th 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 15^th 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.