poitu varam

abdication?

2011-02-11T06:38:00.000-08:00

so i arrived at the church this morning and came in the back way as usual.

the wild -30 deep-freeze had broken and the sun was turning everything about this prairie town golden. although the mornings are brilliant, what with all that gold reflecting off of all that white, you don't need sunglasses somehow. it's mid-february.

i started the coffee brewing in my office because i've got big plans for today. many phone calls to make, emails to read and respond to, plans to finalize for the upcoming society meeting, some computer software to learn, and of course a talk to write for this sunday. while the coffee pot sputtered and popped- something that builds an anticipation similar to that experienced when one is in one's seat at the symphony and the orchestra starts its final tuning exercises- i decided to light up the lobby and open the front doors. this happens every day.

arriving at the doors, i saw that there was a very light blanket of fresh snow that needed shovelling. i got my coat and gloves on and went out to make the church a bit more welcoming by moving the snow. as i began the rhythmic scraping of the plastic shovel on the walk, that's when the flashback hit.

i'm running along the streets of batticaloa in the early morning. because the sun is already up, the day has begun for those who have shops to tend. conversations and energy are shared everywhere as men regale one another with stories of the night before, expectations of the day to come, good humour, news and whatever else.

dark faces with big smiles; sarongs of various weaves, patterns and quality, light shirts, dark pants, designer t-shirts and jeans worn by the young, flip-flops with squared off soles; music everywhere- mostly tamil techno-dance beats; odours, aromas and fragrances all mixed together to create a olfactory parfait of fish, frying oil, gasoline, dust, samosas with tea or instant coffee, burning garbage, sewage, incense, and whatever that smell is that rises when the early morning sun is beginning to heat up the pavement for the first time that day; 'good morning' from shop keepers, 3-wheel moto-taxi drivers, and very young soldiers toting intimidating artillery; the swish swish swish of brooms chasing the dust that has settled away from storefronts...

yes, it is the sound of the brooms on a regular day that says all is the same in the world. people going about their business, making ready the place of meeting or of commerce for a normal day.

what is our responsibility to the other on a normal day?

when there is no civil war, no political unrest, no tsunamis or earthquakes, no relief/rebuilding efforts to be tended to, what is our role then? when we have pledged our love to a people in their time of tragedy, introducing some of them to some of us with cross-cultural handshakes and intercontinental hugs, what is our responsibility afterwards?

can these relationships withstand peace, or do we presume to only be in relationship as long as the hierarchical constructs between the haves and the have-nots remain intact?

and what are the social and spiritual consequences of abandonment for both parties?

these thoughts swirled within me like so much snow this morning, being picked up by the wind, thrown back in my face and ultimately settling in a different spot on the path i had just shovelled.

this is february. i am realizing as i type that it was two years ago to the day that i was on a plane for the island. until this morning, it has felt like the last time.

so what comes next, i wonder...

big happy

2009-07-01T09:10:00.001-07:00

before taking my most recent trip to sri lanka, i was asked to write something upon my return. here's what i came up with...

I KNOW WHAT WE BELIEVE IN, BUT WHAT ARE WE DOING?
(One church’s journey out of the land of ideas)

When the sun sets in Theramaidu, Batticaloa, its drop from the sky is so quick that a brief conversation begining in broad daylight concludes in the blackness of night. It was this way for the small group of us seated in resin chairs, discussing the letter of understanding that was about to be signed by the recipients of Free Methodist Tsunami relief housing on the eve of the possession day. The usual leadership faces were there: Dan Sheffield- global ministries coordinator for the FMCiC; Pastor Sritharan Jeyerajah- Tamil Free Methodist Church, Brampton; Pastor Guna- the man hired to simply oversee the project site and who, within a couple months, had grown a church of 80 people meeting in the supply shed; as well as some others whose roles in the process had been integral. Seated quietly in a line, bearing mixed expressions of eager anticipation and cautious hope bordering on disbelief were the four Sri Lankan women who would be symbolically planting trees and receiving prayers of blessing for their newly received homes less than 24 hours later.

After some dialogue about the linguistic nuances of the letter of understanding which would serve as a legal deed until further due process could be attended to, the signing began. As the pastor of just one of the many churches that had joined together in addressing the social need arising from the Indian Ocean Tsunami of December, 2004, I sat smiling in the February heat. What a wonderful thing I was permitted to be part of, if only as a witness.

Funny thing about being a witness. Legally, it often involves signing something.

Completely surprised and honoured by the invitation to place my own signature on the page, I fumbled with the pen, fearing some tragic inky blunder that would result in nullifying the first letter. Sometimes it takes great concentration just to sign one’s own name. However, in this case some confidence came with the realization that this illegible scrawl was really just a symbol- it was a mark made on behalf of every pastor of every Free Methodist church in Canada that had heard the troubling news back in that final week of 2004 and had sensed God’s invitation to help somehow.

This evening's experience would leave me reflective and virtually speechless for hours. How had we found our way here, over five years and half a world away from the churches in Canada that had grappled with a sense of global responsibility amidst the barrage of images and soundbytes that circulated so effortlessly throughout the global village during the week following the disaster?

***

On December 26, 2004, a tsunami tore across the Indian Ocean, devastating everything on the shorelines of countries in its path... with virtually no warning, the coasts of Thailand, Indonesia and Sri Lanka in particular were lain to waist by two massive waves in a period of about 37 seconds. Thousands upon thousands of lives were lost along with billions of dollars worth of property.

In Canada, I had been slated to preach on the Sunday that followed. I had a nice "New Year's" message about something... the details of it are long gone now. As I was praying, God spoke.

Is this the best we’ve got right now?
Is this the most important thing we have to say?
Do you really want to deliver this message, or
Do you want to actually address the urgent?

I knew what this meant- we all knew what this meant. Pastors all around the world, in our movement and others, were having the same conversation with God. The urgent was the need that existed as a result of this incredible natural disaster. The urgent was something tangible. The urgent was something immediate.

And God moved. Even in the wake of Christmas, or perhaps in the true spirit of it, the people in these churches gave. In our smallish church, a fund was established and over the next while several thousand dollars were given to it. Probably not much in the larger scheme of things, but definitely an active participation in that larger scheme: God’s justice agenda.

It was a great place to start. For me personally, it was my first step out of the land of ideas and into the real world. I think it was an early step for our church as well.

Four months later, God called our church back into the game. I was having breakfast with a friend who engages in global ministries work regularly. He asked me a simple question: 'I know what we believe, but what do we actually do?'

The first answers were predictably programmy. However, with deeper prodding, I was bumped out of the place where I had lived my whole life, presuming that global ministries was someone else's calling. Here, it appeared, was a call from God to get involved. God had packaged it in the words of my friend so that it would get in...

What I heard my friend say was: Until the leaders of our church do something other than Sunday morning, the people of the church will continue to hide behind them.

So, through an intense, multifaceted dialogue involving emails with many different people including both Dan Sheffield and my father, a pile of praying, and some really good late-night coffees, I came to understand that God was inviting an involvement deeper than simply establishing a temporary fund. God was inviting our church into relational engagement. I found myself joining a team headed to Sri Lanka, not sure where I was going, much less why, but knowing that it was of God and that it was to somehow involve our whole church, not just me.

On this initial trip, two intense impressions were made regarding the impact of the Tsunami upon the people of Sri Lanka. The first was how far from the reality of this catastrophe we lived in North America. A young man shared how he had taken work placing bodies washed ashore onto wooden carts, ending up loading his best friend onto one. Another man, a pastor around my age, pressed me with questions I couldn’t answer: “What do I tell the people in my village when they ask Why did God send the Tsunami?” None of my tidy little theological defaults had any hope to offer this hurting people. I was still a well-intentioned outside observer.

The second impression had to do with the need for relief rebuilding. As part of that trip, Pastor Jey, Alan Retzman and I joined Pastor Lazarus, the superintendent of the newly formed mission district of Sri Lanka on a mission to Batticaloa. This city on the east coast of Sri Lanka had been heavily affected by the Tsunami. I had seen pictures of the devastation, taken the previous February by my friend Bob Munshaw who was pastoring the Saskatoon Free Methodist Church at the time. However, the Batticaloa we traveled to in August not only bore great evidence of the natural disaster that had befallen it, but also of the incredible tenacity of its survivors. An older man shared how his grandfather had built his home, his father had been raised in this home and now it fell upon him to rebuild it- and how although many promises had been made by western photographers, so far these bricks were all his own. Kind words and empty promises were of no encouragement here- displaced survivors, having lost everything and everyone they had once held dear were living in tin shanties and refugee tents, enduring temperatures of +40 in the shade. And yet they persevered.

Poitu varam is tamil for 'go and return again soon.' My friend Pastor Lazarus said this to me as I got into a van one night in Colombo, and was simply saying 'We'll see you tomorrow'. However, these words came to mean much more to me concerning the hope of one day returning to this place with others, ready to be used of God here in whatever way God ordained.

Over the weeks and months that followed, it became clear that a missional-partnership of sorts had been birthed between the work being done in Sri Lanka and my local church. Interest in the work taking place in Sri Lanka and the need to be met there grew almost immediately. Our lead pastor, Steve Lougheed joined Alan Retzman and Benedict Gomez in February 2006, while a team for that summer was being drawn together and prepared. There was much dialogue about the state of things in Sri Lanka and how the relief moneys given by the people in Canada should be best used. Alan, Dan, Pastor Jey, Ben, and others were in constant dialogue with the leaders of the mission district of Sri Lanka to discern the FMCiC’s ongoing role.

***

The Ampara district is south of Batticaloa and was even more heavily affected by the disaster. Among Pastor Jey and others, a dream began to grow to build a city of God with more than a hundred houses and a community centre/church in the Ampara region using Free Methodist funds. The idea was that the Sri Lankan government would donate land and all of the moneys raised in Canada would go to constructing houses for the displaced. Without the cost of land, more houses could be built- it was a great plan. Plans were drawn up for housing while contacts and negotiations were made with the government to secure suitable land upon which to begin the project.

In August of 2006, I was able to return to Batticaloa as part of our larger trip. With me was my friend Matt Larson who was interning at our church. In the year that had passed since I had been there, much had changed. Much rebuilding had already taken place, certainly, but the presence of the army had also increased. There was, after all, a civil war going on which had to be factored into all of our plans. It was strange how, on my run through the streets every morning, I would be greeted cheerfully by both Sinhalese soldiers and Tamil shopkeepers who were otherwise locked in a staredown with each other. It appeared as though God was willing to use our otherness in a meaningful way to accomplish his will for those on both sides of this conflict.

It was especially apparent on the Batticaloa and Ampara portion of this trip how the very hand of God seemed to be extended over all that we participated in. Due to the escalating violence, particularly in the eastern and northern regions, all NGO’s (Non-Government-Organizations) had been told to leave the country. Yet because we were church, we were free to move to and fro, gaining access to areas that were closed to all others. Around us, incidents were on the rise, with a bridge being taken out by insurgents up the road from us one day or violence in the street ten minutes behind us the next. We experienced only freedom and safe passage, however, as we scouted land, met with government officials and sought further insight into what God intended to do through the FMCiC in this country. Matt was being challenged daily in his personal and ministry journeys in ways that would become increasingly apparent over the coming months, even years. We prayed daily prayers of thanksgiving for the mercies seen in the day coming to an end and those unseen for the day ahead. It was a trip of wonders.

What was not wonderful, however, was how arduous the process to secure suitable land for development became. Some of the options that were inspected held promise while others, lacking fresh water or access to electricity, clearly held none. Even more frustrating was the sense that we probably wouldn’t actually get the go-ahead to develop in a suitable area before the war ended or Jesus returned. This golden gleam of the city of God dream was being increasingly inhibited by red tape- while in the meantime there were still so many people sweating it out in refugee tents and living conditions that were deplorable. Leaving Ampara, we joined the rest of our team (comprised of members from Northview in Regina and Wesley Chapel in Scarborough) for the work that we were slated to do together. There was still a nagging sense that the tsunami housing project was very tentative and in all of this, it was very difficult to be patient and faithful. With our western minds and western worldviews, the challenge was to serve within the existing systems and structures rather than to start trying to supercede them in a flourish of well-intentioned ethnocentricity.

Upon returning home, the team from Regina, consisting of Matt and myself, along with Rick and Jaylynne Fox (formerly of Saskatoon Free Methodist and having experienced a stirring within their hearts upon hearing of Sri Lanka a couple years earlier from their pastor at the time, Bob Munshaw) shared their respective stories and impressions readily, accepting opportunities to speak at churches and camps throughout the year that followed. The missional partnership of our local church with the movement in Sri Lanka had continued to deepen with more of our people connecting with the churches there. The people in the seats back home actually knew where Sri Lanka was, and were growing accustomed to sights, stories, faces and names from the trips taken thus far. There was, however, always an awkward pause whenever team members were asked about tsunami relief. In our small way, we had participated in the raising of funds and awareness, yet felt a little lost as to what progress we could actually report. It was a time of diplomacy and faith-stretching.

Sometime during that second trip, the idea for Encounter Sri Lanka, a denominational global ministries experience for young adults was conceived. The guinea pigs of the ESL pilot in August ‘07 would be my family, along with two others from our church who had expressed interest and one from Wesley Chapel. Also from Wesley Chapel would be Sheryl Murray and Onika Brown, two educators who had been part of the team in 2006 and were returning to provide pedagogical training to Sri Lankan Christian education leaders. Of inestimable value to the project as interpreters were Ben Gomez and Jackie Jeyerajah- Pastor Jey's daughter.

The focus of the ESL’07 trip was upon the programming offered, not tsunami relief. Pastor Jey stayed behind as he often did, while the ESL team headed back to Canada. He was still hard at work exploring options to see relief plans come to fruition. During this time, it had become apparent to Pastor Jey and others that as long as we were waiting for land to be handed over by the government of Sri Lanka, the project would be in limbo. Negotiations had begun for the purchase of land suitable to build houses and a community centre on. In the time that had passed since the disaster, economics had changed and the price of usable land in the tsunami-affected areas had skyrocketed, largely due to demand by NGO’s and churches seeking property to develop with relief housing. To purchase land now would be to drastically reduce the amount of houses we could afford to erect, but at least the project would once again move more tangibly forward. The Theramaidu land just outside of Batticaloa was purchased and Pastor Jey and Dan got to work securing Sri Lankan architects, contractors and skilled workers to construct ten houses, with plans for a church, community centre and market to follow. The land purchased was at the centre of a relief housing community that had been built by Samaritan’s Purse and World Vision donations. There would be many neighbours.

Back in Regina, we were dealing with some changes of our own. Having gone through a time of transition, we were settling into a new rhythm as I moved into the lead pastor role and tried to figure it all out. However, there was something else going on. In my global ministries involvements of the previous three summers, I had diligently sought answers from God as to whether this or that trip was mine to take and in each case I had received the green light. I never wanted to just presume that involvement in Sri Lanka was a given and in the summer of 2008, God tested me on this one. He simply said ‘No.’

It was the first time that I received this word but it was so clear and so different in articulation and feeling from the previous GO-codes, that I knew the only faithful response was obedience. Part of the challenge was to sort out whether this was our church’s gig, or just something that the pastor was passionate about. See, on my other trips, I was serving under the auspices of another’s leadership, and was therefore a delegate. Somehow, it felt different with my new role in the church, and I didn’t want to be guilty of conveniently making my interests and the interests of the church coincide. Regardless of what your leadership role, submission to someone is a necessary and meaningful form of accountability. Everyone answers to someone.

I shared my conviction with our board and we dialogued at length over how involvement across the ocean was in keeping with our core values and was an expression of our collective mission as a church. In the end, our board decided that the preexisting relationship between this little church and the exciting work that God was doing in Sri Lanka should continue into this new era.

One of the things that came up was the possibility of my taking a trip in February ‘09, and this being a springboard for a plan to send an ESL team the following August. There were still young people from the church coming forward, expressing giftings and desire conducive to this kind of service. And so it came to be that I would be participating in the February trip, while my friend Matt would return to Sri Lanka August with his wife and a full ESL team.

To our delight, we learned that the first of the houses being constructed at Theramaidu would be ready to be turned over to their owners- people who would, by that time, have been displaced and waiting over four years for a dwelling. The selection process had been conducted at arm’s length, with applications being made to and considered by a third party. Of the recipients, seven of the nine were families headed by women who had been widowed or otherwise abandoned during the catastrophe. There was tremendous satisfaction in sharing this with people outside of the church who had questions about our involvement in this tiny country that seemed to be increasingly in the news. Likewise, the response of nonchurched people to the project, the selection process and the ultimate recipients was incredibly positive. It was as if those we knew drew inspiration to live more generously from news of the project. In many ways, I believe this excitement had to do with the fact that this was a justice initiative being carried out by a church, rather than an NGO. The church was doing what people felt the church should be doing.

My friend’s words from four years earlier played as backstory in the assent evident on people’s faces as they heard us share of the work: “I know what we believe in, but what are we doing?”

And so I found myself representing both people I knew and people I didn’t know, seated in a resin chair on the other side of the world on a hot and humid night in February, 2009, fumbling with a pen.

The day had been inspiring. Moving through the Theramaidu relief housing project, it was easy to note the electricity in the air. Many of the houses were bustling with the final preparations for the handing over of keys the final day- a bit of sweat equity provided by the recipients. Floors and walls were being washed down, yards were being landscaped, one household was working to put in a cement walkway- two boys shoveling, two women carrying buckets of cement and a man from the community doing the trowling. I had never seen people dressed so well and smiling so broadly while loading cement in +40 temperatures. I believe in our part of the world this is called ‘pride of ownership.’

We met the families and interviewed a few of them. All the while, Pastor Guna translated, demonstrating a gift for language. He shared story after story with us of the people in this community, the hardships they had endured, and how the common feeling among them was that they had waited hopefully, thinking they had been passed by, only to receive what was, in their view, the best houses in the area.

The houses really were special. Because great attention had been paid to the details of living in eastern Sri Lanka by the Sri Lankan architects that had been hired to develop the plans, the dwellings were positioned according to the regular wind currents with great ventilation for air flow and high ceilings which allowed the heat to be swept by the wind up out of the living space. Each house had a veranda because those designing them had noted that the newly erected relief houses in the area almost all featured ‘after market’ verandas that had been added on by their owners. The houses were also slightly larger than the others in the area, allowing for multiple-family dwelling. The fact that they were painted bright green was probably just a matter of aesthetic preference.

Pastor Guna had been brought in fresh out of Bible school to oversee the project site. I had already heard rich stories about this man from Wade Fitzpatrick, pastor of the Moose Jaw church after his own trip in August of 2008. Our friend Guna was clearly a pastor, not a security guard. Within very little time he was providing pastoral care for the people in the surrounding community, and had set up a thriving church in the utility shed. During the week he had established a school, teaching English to the people of the area, and had been harassed by some who felt that his presence as an on-site spiritual father in the community was somehow in violation of an unspoken turf agreement. He had endured malicious rumours of gross misbehaviour and a conversion agenda, as well as physical threats to his person. Yet, he had persevered and the depth of his character was such that those whom he served had eventually stepped up to defend him as their pastor and friend.

We enjoyed some rich fellowship together on the evening of the signing and then left the project site, knowing that the following day would be an exciting one.

***

Possession day was as beautiful day as any. Each of the houses had been decorated lavishly with bright colourful banners, welcoming streamers and such. Each had a ribbon across the doorway which would be ceremonially cut. As part of the celebration, there would be a prayer of blessing for the household, a snack served to the first guests, a family portrait taken and, of course, the planting of the first tree in the yard. Although there had been many dignitaries invited to participate in the day, unfortunately very few were able to attend and participate. However, many from the community, of course, were. In particular, those receiving homes were on hand to celebrate with their new neighbours.

As we would see the following day, many were already attending Pastor Guna’s church together and were faith brothers and sisters. There was a rich sense of community- more like communitas actually.

One of the girls I recognized as having been loading cement on the day before, turned to me, beaming amidst all that was taking place, and articulated her perspective succinctly:

“Big happy.”

That our little church could be part of God’s Big Happy here was the culmination of over five years’ travel on this road out of the land of ideas.

a new circle

2006-08-03T23:46:00.000-07:00

so here it is, nearly 1:00 in the morning and i believe that i am pretty much packed. in nearly six hours, i will leave once again for sri lanka- this time bringing with me some friends.

poitu varam indeed!

epilogue

2006-02-21T11:33:00.000-08:00

months later, i sit in my office on a snowy day, still thinking about my other home.

much going on
much to tell
much to treasure.

just days after i had returned to canada, a friend of mine walked into the church carrying a simple keyboard instrument. she went to the office of the pastor of youth and said 'i no longer play this- can you find a use for it?' just the day before, i had been sharing with my colleague the story of jesuthas' keyboard being taken by the tsunami...

the children banded together in the months that followed my trip to raise money for a place where mohamed and his congregation could meet together as one group (as opposed to doing church in his taxi.) they raised enough money for one and a half months' rent.

these two responses were already taking place before we even had a plan. pretty cool.

and today, exactly six months after my last day there, my best friend leaves for sri lanka. because he is lead pastor of our church, his visit carries with it great significance for this congregation at this time.

much has taken place in the last six months, as we have continued to further explore what a missional partnership can be. there are budget moneys in place to become further involved missionally in both our immediate community and our global village. in response to a series of modules on involvement in the global church, there are plans underway to send a team of four to serve at the kabool lanka pastors' retreat this coming august. there is even ginger beer being sold at the church coffee bar sundays after service!

as a church-planting church, the desire is in our congregational dna to see new churches be raised up by the hand of God. the news of the free methodist movement taking place in sri lanka was both challenging and affirming- it rewired our whole concept of how God might want to use us in his greater work... planting a church in canada or resourcing a church plant in sri lanka- what is the difference really? even my own sons have both expressed an interest in going to be part of what God is doing there, in addition to their service here in the local church.

so my pastor and friend takes with him a keyboard and some photographs of smiling kids holding up a happy gilmore cheque. more importantly, he takes the love of a bunch of people that have been waiting for years to become involved in something bigger than a church bubble into the next chapter, bearing witness to the love of Jesus to the ends of the earth the way we read in the eighth verse of acts 1.

so play the game of existence to the end of the beginning (lennon/mccartney)

final, for now

2006-02-06T06:46:00.000-08:00

august 22: monday: day 13
having been up late writing what would no doubt be the first of many letters/epistles to lazarus and mohamed, i found the alarm's intrusion to some decent REM sleep at 4:30 a bit on the early side. still, it had been very easy for me to get up and go the whole time we were in sri lanka... hopefully the same would be said about morning in canada after this big flight!

at the airport, colleen and i ended up separated from dan, al, eustace and sylvia (ben and ruby stayed back to continue the work at the ministry centre for a couple more weeks). walking together and checking bags together, we were asked whether we were 'together' or not. we both found it kinda funny that, just because we were both mildly fair-haired, blue-eyed north american-looking travellers of comparable age, we were probably together. i guess more couples travel than i thought.

anyway, they wouldn't allow me to take my dolkie as carry on- i was quite fearful about that. however, it was beyond anything that i could control, so i entrusted its care to God and the good people of sri lankan airways.

always amazing how something has to be beyond our control before we can give it up.

we almost did not make the plane, as customs and security seemed to take forever. all i could think of was possibly being required to spend more time in sri lanka while we sorted out the details... perhaps having to spend another day and leave the following morning. (although it would be a little spooky without dan and al, ben and ruby were still here so i was not far from new familiarity. as it turned out, there was, of course, nothing to worry about- ah whatever... due process exists to protect us all.

what with lengthy flights and time zone changes and lengthy lay-overs and the like, the 'day' that began with getting out of bed at 4:30 a.m. sri lanka time on august 22nd would end at getting back into bed for a nap at 4:30 p.m. saskatchewan time on august 23rd... but would be a full 48-hour day by the clock.

yet sitting on sri lankan airways, flight 505 above the arabian sea, reflecting rather than projecting, i kept thinking i heard jey's cell phone going off.
no such luck.
***

i must not bite the hand that feeds.
the west lovingly sent me out...
to the west i must lovingly return-
for now

poitu varam, version 1.2, completed online 020606

stalling

2005-08-21T23:56:00.000-07:00

august 21: day 12: sunday (part 4)

i was on the phone with mrs jollybeggar and the boys (who were visiting the in-laws while i was away- why should i have all the fun, right?) when ben and dan got back.

the guys had with them my beautiful new dholki. this instrument was no souvenir- it was real: a thing of beauty. however, the surprise came with a bag that ben handed me, his eyes twinkling. i assured him that it wasn't mine and he, of course, assured me that it was. inside was a salvar, bought for mrs jollybeggar by mrs lazarus, and a sarong for me!

i don't care which language- there are no words to describe my feelings in response to this kindness. i wrote the lazarus family a letter, but i'm afraid that it was incapable of speaking the full truth, for this was too profound- in any event, i tried to say thank you.

the guys in the topaz showed me how to play the dholki and wrap the sarong and i rushed up to my room to lose the shorts underneath.

amazingly cool, i can understand why these things are worn by men and women all over the world. i don't think i'll be preaching in it, though... i'll leave that to danglin' dan.

i keep going through the pictures in my digital camera- never since the boys were born have i looked at some pictures again and again, incapable of keeping the smile inside. there is simply joy in this recollection.

we waited up and spoke together of many things; dan, al, ben and i. colleen and ruby had gone to jennifer's house with mohamed in the afternoon, and then went on to mohamed and ivon's house in the evening. i felt quite jealous of this (for i had really wanted to go to both homes myself upon our return- it just hadn't worked out that way) but i knew that there is no place for jealousy in love. i will just have to visit their home next time i come.

interesting how easy it is to say 'next time i come' compared to how difficult it was to initially commit to going. the first cut is the deepest.
***

to my pleasant surprise, mohamed (w/ ivon) drove ruby and colleen back to the hotel in the auto rather than sending them with a driver... it took nearly two hours, but was no doubt an experience that colleen will never forget! we talked and laughed and took pictures of each other, putting off the inevitable separation that would have to take place in the same way that teenagers seem to say goodbye about fifty times at the end of camp.

both mohamed and ivon were experiencing God's healing- in his throat and head and in her feet. this was great to see. not only was mohamed experiencing God's grace and mercy in physical healing, but he had been approved by the free methodist church in sri lanka's board of administration to go ahead and find a place within a specific monthly budget. eustace and dan and ben had gone with mohamed earlier in the day to look at three possible new sites for mohamed's church. this was all exciting, for it meant that he would be able to have one church service together with his people, rather than constant visitations which can be so much more tiring.

God continues to provide in response to faithfulness.

eventually all of the stalling was done and our friends got back into their three-out-of-four-speed, three wheel auto and started out on the two-hour journey home. this poitu varam was as difficult as the one with lazarus that morning (which at this point, because of the fullness of the day, felt like a week earlier.)

i went to bed not knowing when i would spend the night in this country again, and wondering why time seems to move so fast when you are happiest. i eventually dropped off to sleep as mohamed and ivon drove home and my wife and sons ate lunch on the other side of the world.
***

interesting note: i am (in real time, this being the end of january, 2006, as i post these final journal entries) stalling in the same way even now. i know that i am just about done transcribing these written accounts and it is kinda bothering me... it's as if leaving the final entry unwritten will somehow delay closure to a splendid chapter of my life that i can never reopen.

recently i viewed a will smith movie called 'hitch.' there is this scene in it where one of the characters, a guy named albert, has had his heart broken for the first time. he confesses something odd that feels familiar to my sri lankan experience somehow: he says that he doesn't want to move past the pain or the sense of loss because (now i'm probably putting words into his mouth here) these feelings legitimize the love that he has experienced.

i have said many times that i was only in the country for ten days, but that this was long enough to fall in love. drippy or not, that's what happened.

i sit here typing late on a saturday night, knowing that my friends in sri lanka are worshiping together right now.

stop

2005-08-21T19:39:00.000-07:00

august 21: day 12: sunday (part 3)
upon arriving back in negombo, al and i decided to hit the ocean for awhile. we knew that the others wouldn't be returning until much later in the afternoon.

repeat shot: up by that boat where the beach curves a bit is where al went 'swimming.'
the waves were huge and al went at them hard, wearing a mask and snorkel (but no flippers) and looking- well- picture it and draw your own conclusions. i stayed close to where i had set down my camera and my coveted norwex towel, but had to do so intentionally because of the natural pull of the water up the beach (north, i think)... this made sense to me in that when the tsunami hit the east side of the island with its full force, the currents took the effects in a clockwise direction down around the southernmost part and then back up the west side. al appeared to be having a good time splashing around, letting the surf carry him away. eventually he got too far and swam in to shore and then hung out on the beach.

at least that’s how it looked to me.

however, the thing with al is that, no matter what you do with him, you always seem to come out of it with a story to tell. it’s just the way he is. i think it has to do with his basic human authenticity or something. i mean, this is one of the only people i’ve ever met who bears absolutely no pretense. it is really refreshing to be afforded the privilege of calling someone like that ‘friend.’ there is safety and peace in some relationships that strengthens a person rather than drawing from them. knowing al is like that.

anyway, what actually happened was al got a real scare out in the surf. the harder he swam, the more he seemed to be pulled out to sea. he panicked and expended an incredible amount of energy trying to swim against the waves that seemed to be more interested in being one with him than he was with them.

once he got to shore, he sat gasping for at least a half-an-hour before getting up and making his way unsteadily back to the hotel, where he showered with his glasses on and passed out for at least two hours. for al, it really put a cloud into the sky of an otherwise perfect day, as he found himself projecting his feelings of fear and helplessness onto the women and children killed in the tsunami. the image of all those saris drifting in and out with the tides long after the disaster, each one representing a woman or a girl, had haunted his imagination and engaged his empathy. on the beach gasping, weeping and nearly puking, he had been reliving an experience for real that had only been his to imagine for the past eight months. he was quite upset.

sleeping motionless on his bed for so long, the hard water drops eventually becoming dry circles on the lenses of the glasses he still wore as he lay on his back, al was kinda making me nervous... all I could think of was ‘what if he made it back to the room and then had a heart attack?’

apparently al wasn’t the only one whose imagination was working overtime.
***

on the road we had been talking a lot about how we discern what God is calling us to do. as i hung out in the sri lankan sun drinking rich ceylon tea with loads of cream, i thought of many such things- finally stopping from the intense 'go' that had characterized the trip's long, full days.

it's kind of simple, really. you sense a call to missions; you ask God where; God sends you somewhere through an incredible course of events and 'coincidences' that you interpret as his doing, thus gaining some heavenly perspective; and you fall in love.

i'm sure i'd feel the same no matter where i went. the point is that i came here in response to a moving of God, and was invited (as opposed to being simply allowed) to participate in it. to now say 'well i'm not sure if sri lanka is the place; perhaps i should try brazil' or something would be absurd, in my view. God knew i would love wherever i went, so he sent me here.

now the task is to capitalize upon the relationship that already exists between myself and my church family back home, and the newly formed relationship with the church in sri lanka- introducing the people back home to the movement taking place among the churches here.

there seem to be basically three levels of partnership (or rather, expressions of missional partnership) each one more personal than the last:

one- nonspecific giving
two- specific giving
three- specific sending.

the third is the most exciting because it engages more people both in the stewardship of their cash and/or their talents. plan?

eustace and sylvia and i talked about these things on the walk we took upon their return.

eustace was a great example of the third level, having been sent by his church to perform a specific task on this trip. his work here being done, he would return home... i had a sneaky suspicion that he'd be back, though. he had caught the bug- you could see it not only in his approach to this place and his work here, but also in the relationships cultivated.

we strolled down the streets of this town, all aware that this would be the last time... for awhile.

yep, this is a repeat as well. my camera was so full that i had no space left to take fresh pictures by the end. on our walk, eustace, sylvia and i headed in this direction and walked for about a half hour, then turned around and came back...

as the sun went down, the beach lit up. sunday night. apparently it's this way every week... six days shall you toil. people were everywhere; playing cricket, flying kites, parasurfing, eating sri lankan doughnuts- it was a gala evening comparable to that famous painting by georges seurat... only in the dark.

i spoke with chris again and listened as he and an engineer from england discussed surfing. i honoured the commitment made earlier in the week to buy the cricket shirts from she-har... overall, the evening felt like a whole lotta poitu varam.

the road less travelled

2005-08-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

august 21: day 12: sunday (part 2)

around lunchtime, i realized that it had already been a full day since the batticaloan luncheon grenade had gone off the day before. still hadn't heard if anyone had claimed responsibility... it would be hard to say what had wreaked more havoc on this place- the tsunami or the civil war... both had contributed to the arrested development of this beautiful place.

you could tell that almost everything that existed there had been quite progressive when it was built, but also that that was a long time ago. now it was a land of stark contrasts.

even breathing here is a rich experience: at any given time you can be ambushed by air so thick and rich and heavy that you can hardly take it in- sometimes it's good rich, other times it's just heavy rich. i remember saying how i couldn't wait to taste the air here... little did i realized it was going to be quite so literal.
***

midride, we stopped in a lush, shaded roadside attraction for some coconuts.

the guy serving us was pretty amazing with his mini machete. however, al tried to joke with him about being careful to not cut his fingers off or something and spent nearly five minutes trying to explain the joke. priceless.

interesting the things you'll notice driving through a city... one day i spied a kid with an amazing black and gold john lennon t-shirt; today it was that smiling buddha on the hill again- by day you can see that buddha is flanked by radio towers that were not visible at night... so much for mystical unions- even buddha rides the airwaves in search of a common vibration that will unite us all.

jollybeggar and the whistling driver

i was sitting eating my coconut when i happened to glance over onto a side table where i spied some doughnuts... (mmm- don't bother... sri lankan doughnuts look like cake numnums, but they don't taste any good. i had one the night before in batticaloa and was disappointed to discover no sweetness whatsoever- just more spice and heat.)

it's like the clubhouse sandwich i had a couple days earlier while listening to the cars chattering in the streets of kandy- pure tasteless garbage. they do eastern well, but the western stuff falls short... had to wonder if that's how sri lankans and other asians feel about the canadian or american versions of their quisine.

on the road, al and i were talking about music and somehow dylan and the travelling wilburies came up... he said (as if to 'stump' me with a little-known band) 'have you heard of the flying willoughbies?'

we saw many more soldiers on the road from batticaloa than the road to it. along with the regular military outposts with their manned gun turrets and the checkpoints with stern-faced young men holding semi-automatic weapons,

there were trucks full of soldiers and large groups of soldiers walking along the road side poking around with long contraptions that looked like those things you use to scoop your golf ball out of a water trap. however, these soldiers were not looking for golf balls or empty ginger beer bottles, they were combing the roadsides for mines that may have been placed there in the darkness of the night before.

there was not a lot of traffic- the military activity tends to discourage travel, which is probably the idea...

still, lorries full of straw, bicycles laden with sticks and carts with fresh new bricks were met regularly on their way towards tsunami-affected cities and towns.

our driver had taken to whistling- no discernable tune really, just whistling. the whistling stopped momentarily as we watched a bus come around a corner, passing an auto at high speed only to wildly swerve to miss the oncoming vehicle which was just ahead of us... careening back into it's own lane caused a major sway which was then corrected to swing the thing the other way. i thought for sure she was gonna roll, full of passengers and all... but it didn't, and our driver resumed his whistling- business as usual.

sundry sunday observations

2005-08-21T11:32:00.000-07:00

august 21: sunday: day 12 (part 1)

it's always hard to believe that you've come to the last day of an experience. this one (the last full day in sri lanka) began with an alarm at 5:30 a.m.

mark twain and brent butt? nope, my friends lazarus and jey... notice the cell phone?
al and i got up, showered etc in time for leaving at 6:00. stepping out of the room, we were met in the dark by a rather weary-looking lazarus and jey who had gotten themselves up to see us off. turned out that they were going to propositioning some land for relief development today, so it would be down to al and me on the road back to negombo.

the smallest things touch my heart and lazarus is very good at those kinds of things.

he let me know that they had picked up a dolkie for me, so i thanked him far too much and then paid the man (300 rupees for the drum and 500 more for the taxi...)

strangely, he enquired as to how 'big' my wife is... my first, western humour response was something like 'no bigger than your wife!' but i suppressed the urge to deliver it, as the cultural differences between easy 'kibbitzing' gauche familiarity/disrespect might very well spoil everything that had been developing between us. i chose the socially safer route, responded earnestly in bit phrases and gesticulations. still, who knows what he was thinking? i had mentioned that i was interested in buying some cool sri lankan shirt or other for mrs jollybegger...

it was funny last night (is 'funny' the right word?) when we were talking. he said how at first he didn't understand my speaking at all and how now it's easy... i've been thinking the same thing.

lazarus gave me a package of photos and we embraced beyond ceremony.

he has become a dear friend and i will deeply miss his smile.
***

the drive moved along uneventfully for a couple of hours. in times like these i would often scroll through the faces and places locked in the memory of my digital camera. i don't believe that there has ever been a time in my life where i've been so incapalbe of withholding a smile as i was upon looking through the shots taken. even upon returning home i would find myself smiling foolishly to myself at a mental image of lazarus or mohamed or isac or jay... or pretty much anyone i encountered on the trip.
***

we saw many peacocks in the wild, but upon seeing four of them draggin through a pile of garbage, somehow that sense of pride seemed to fade. real life and face-to-face experience will do that with just about anyone. still, whne these magnificent birds spread their wings to fly out of your way, it was something incredible to behold.
***

eating in or driving through the city- any city- there was the constant chattering of automobiles comparably to the sounds of the birds in the treas at dusk with countless voices and topics of conversation, as if these creatures can only think verbally- some horns greet each other, some acknowledge others' points of view, some communicate a sense of urgency or restlessness, but none swear at each other like roadrage-ridden north america.

***

on sunday mornings (and others) one could hear sri lankan gospel radio... rather than actually broadcast, the churches simply pointed their speakers out into the street so that neighbours and passersby heard what was taking place inside God's house. even robert's little housechurch of about twenty-five people had this sound system thing going on.

the more time you spend here, the more you become aware of the basic cultural distinctives... i can now understand why lazarus wants an amplifier and microphones for the ministry centre. the muslims travel around blasting their prayers thorugh loudspeakers three times a day- the christians amplify worship services; the hindus place shrines to peleal (the elephant guy with all the additional arms) and the catholics place similar shrines on corners depicting stations of the cross or mary holding the Christ.

interesting how, in wartime, one's own weaponry and tactics are deployed by the enemy.

pastoral ministry in 3D

2005-08-20T22:15:00.000-07:00

august 20: saturday: day 11 (part 3)
at robert's church, the worship time was great- jesuthas and his younger brother alternated between playing bongos and tambourines; he and his sister traded off in the leading of the worship singing. a friend played guitar with a delay effect that was a bit distracting for me, but understandably 'contemporary' for the group there assembled. the worship leaders faced the front rather than facing the crowd- cool.

there was much sharing of personal faith experiences, particularly the epiphanies that were still registering as a result of the tsunami in december. there were stories of new personal visions and callings, healings and celebrations of the grace of God amidst life as experienced in tsunami-affected batticaloa.

there was nowhere near the same spiritual battling going on as the week prior in colombo... more accurately, it appeared as though the spiritual battles taking place here were manifesting themselves in different ways. in a different place, on different terrain within different circumstances, different strategies are employed. the people had been hit with such an incredible natural disaster in the tsunami that it was as if God had put out his hand and said:

okay, only the following demons can go through: disease, despair and discouragement. that's it. the rest of you are going to have to busy yourselves with something else for awhile.

this was, of course, simply my observation.

whatever the case, joining together with some twenty-five other believers in the same room that had, just a couple hours earlier, housed our wonderful meal and fellowship time with robert and his family was a rich experience.
***

afterwards we enjoyed some humble tea and delicious bananas before heading to the hotel.

jesuthas presented me with a plaque from the front of their church, bearing exodus 33.14 in tamil. i gave him the hemp necklace (made by my son poet) that he had admired earlier in the week at kabool lanka. in truth, i had planned on giving it to him on this day anyway, i just needed to find an expressed reason to do so.

we spoke of many things, including music. it was quite interesting to me to note the many instruments that jesuthas played. heart-breaking was his remark 'i used to play keyboard as well until tsunami took my keyboard away.'

there were many more warm poitu varam's and at least one canadian in the van played tap-the-window games with the children outside and swore to himself that he would be back.
***

on the way to our hotel, we stopped but no one was really hungry so we just picked up a sri lankan dough-nut and burrito to go...

i didn't like the burrito thing, so i gave half of it to the kid manning the hotel (who didn't seem to mind, but didn't seem too interested either.)
***
the room, nowhere near as horrid as i had feared from the stories i had heard at the travel doctor before leaving canada, was clean but simple- like a dorm at camp. al and i sat up talking about leadership stuff until about to fall asleep... so it even felt like camp except without the bugs! there was one lone mosquito which i killed early on in the evening, making the room safe for those of us who were fearfully and faithfully taking our malaria meds.

al spoke of how the guys' cell phones were driving him nuts.

of unwelcome tennants and welcoming homeowners

2005-08-20T17:11:00.000-07:00

august 20: saturday: day 11 (part 2)

as we drove across a bridge, my attention was drawn to some functional distinctives: many of the bridges here were multi-purpose: a causeway for vehicles, bicycles and trains. lazarus looked up from his near-sleep and said 'like salvation- one bridge.'
***

jey explains why this is obviously a cobra den, not an anthill...
all along the sides of the road we saw cobra dens...
there were apparently a LOT of cobras here.

the cobra does not build its own den. it lets a certain rather tasty, however industrious, type of ant do it... then it eats all the ants and moves in. you can tell the difference between a cobra den and a basic ant hill by the size of the holes...

jey told me that ancient hindus would build little prayer shelters around and over the den of a cobra and then worship it from a spot safely outside. reminiscent of the hebrews' 'holy of holies.' therein resides the glory of a dangerous God.
***

upon arriving at batticaloa, we came immediately to robert's house and church. his first words to us were 'you're two hours late...' which put al off a bit, not because it was true but because it flew in the face of his sri lanka math/time theory.

however, robert and his wife then extended a touching kindness: they drew water from their own well and presented it to us to wash our hands in- refusing to let us share a bucket, it was one fresh bucket per man- then robert proceeded to pour out al's bucket over his feet when his hands were done. this took me back to Jesus' washing of the disciples' feet and the model of servanthood that Jesus, the master, provided for us, the servants.
***

the meal was amazing and robert hovered over us, repouring sprite every time we would take a sip.

everyone continued to make a big deal about my eating with my hand. i went to eat my salad with a fork and happened to glance over at lazarus, who gave me an encouraging frown and head shake as if to say come on, you're not really gonna us a fork are you? i realized my folly, for if anything is easy to eat with your hand, it's gotta be salad!

to the hand-eating business, my reply was always the same:
now that i've learned how to eat, i guess i better learn how to speak next
(only half-joking)

standing out in robert's sunny front yard with his four amazing kids
***
interesting. it occurs to me while talking to jesuthas that he may very well be studying to become a driver because he is interested in hauling the living, not the dead. i believe that God will call him to be a pastor- perhaps like mohamed with his taxi- in time.

we visited the tsunami-affected area and struck up a conversation with a home owner named xavier who was busy rebuilding his house. he'd had a lot of westerners taking his picture, making empty promises. however, he was willing to share his story nonetheless.

his family is alive today because he had taken them to church in another district that fateful morning. he is alive today because he saw the wave coming over and through the village across the bay, got on his motorcycle and made a break for it.

yet how many thousand others in this country did not experience the same deliverence of God?

al told me of long pieces of fabric hanging from trees and floating among the debris- even when he came in february, two months after the disaster- these were the saris of women caught in the wave... amidst the apparent flotsam and jetsum left on the shores after entire islands were 'shipwrecked' you would see items like a single child's shoe half buried in the sand; things bearing testimony to the mortal battle that had taken place between man and nature, calling into question whether man could ever really have dominion over the awesomeness of a physical domain as great as this planet.

we are caretakers- gardeners at best- subject to the physically causal forces of gravity, motion, and seismic activity. makes one feel quite small, actually...

this elderly man sits reading the paper outside of what was once a sturdy home...
as we drove along 'the strip,' al took some really powerful pictures. he had been here before, six months earlier, and had fired off many shots of rubble and destruction. his motivation and resulting subjects were different this time: essentially what al seemed to be chronicling was the rebuilding effort and the apparent price of survival as etched into the deep wrinkles of the faces of those left behind to shoulder its burden.

xavier tells his story while his hired help picks up around the place.
xavier put it well:
(although the exact words are gone, their meaning remains, haunting me with integrity, purpose and sentimentally stubborn resolve)
my grandfather built this house, my father was raised in this house, he raised me in this house- this house is mine to rebuild.

(for more reflections upon xavier's story go to
http://e-pistles.blogspot.com/2005/09/blaming-god.html )

everything informs everything else

2005-08-20T10:30:00.000-07:00

august 20: saturday: day 11 (part 1)

still on call, these guys were at work when we checked in the night before, and now here they were at 8:30 a.m. showing no signs of being 'relieved' by the dayshift guys. i encountered this often... i think the sri lankans clone themselves.

we awakened to discover that the generator was down and there was no power. still, it was such a nice place that it didn't matter. by the time al got into the shower, though, the power and the hot water were both up and running.

jey later described a dance that he did in the shower. the telling left us all a bit creeped out because the image of this big, bald, sri lanken buddha/ brent butt lookalike dancing naked in the shower stall of a resort hotel just wasn't working and wouldn't leave.
***

i saw westerners coming and going with their white socks and their polo shirts and that am i ever going to get some service around here? look on their pink faces. in time, they all climbed onto their luxurious tour bus and pulled out for another adventure- the order of the day was a safari encounter with some elephants. this fancy resort had been built for them so that they would feel at home in a strange and distant land. eventually i would put my negative feelings in the right place, but at the time i was condescendingly annoyed with their complaints about the cold water and all that.

(growth is the result of having embraced change, and i would grow out of my own little snot-nosed presumptions about people and places in time- every new experience brings with it its own wisdom. these personal attitude adjustments were mine to accept in response to a curious reverse culture-shock that is, apparently, quite common for newbie missionaries. the thing is, it doesn't matter how many books (or blogs, for that matter) are written to prepare others for transcultural experiences... ultimately one's greatest growth will be registered as a direct result of the experience itself: that's where the most exciting change and challenges are encountered. it was that way for me, anyway.

i think that it all comes down to one's willingness to embrace the change and be embraced by it- being reshaped by the encounter.)
***

although we left in good time, we couldn't help but do a bit of sightseeing, as this area was rich in sights to see. twelve monkeys (no, not the terry gilliam film) played by the side of the road, cobra dens and elephants in the wild were all part of the first ten minutes.

most interesting was this crazy stone formation that looked like a huge fist thrust upwards towards the sky through the earth's crust. it was, in fact, a spot chosen by an ancient king (kashuba) as a place of refuge from his enemies (reminiscent of the stories we read of david in his fugitive years.)

for some sense of proportion: i think that the cluster of little tiny things standing upright by the tree is a group of people... and maybe an ox or buffalo or something.

eventually kashuba had developed the area, making it into his place of royal residence, complete with an interior spa already built in by God and a bricked-in moat built by his hired (?) hands.
***

lazarus, al and jey stand by the coffer.
we came upon this huge standing buddha beside a very picturesque bay that lazarus said was a 'traditional place.' (interesting- the use of 'traditional' rather than 'sacred.')

this buddha reminded me of a seated one that we had seen the night before upon a hill outside of another town, bright lights ensuring that the people could plainly see buddha smiling down upon them from anywhere in town... like the hollywood sign.

the buddha on the hill brought to memory two things that i had seen a couple weeks earlier on a family trip to mt rushmore... not the heralded, four-faced shrine to democracy, nor the crazy horse national monument (although kashuba's fortress looked very much like the crazy horse project) but something seen en route: outside one town was a massive sign with the ten commandments on it; in a farmer's field in the middle of literally nowhere was a huge cross on a knoll, lit up and visible for miles around in the same way.

it is really interesting how everything seems to be informed by everything else.
***
outside of another town, we saw cows feasting upon the garbage in its dump, sharing it with an elephant. elephants in the streets of some of the towns was not uncommon- although, unlike this one in the dump, they were also kept on leashes. we saw three or four on the trip to batticaloa and back.

apparently, the sinhala translation for 'lamb and lion lying down together' is 'cow and elephant eating garbage together...' although you won't find it in any phrasebook.

of lizard, lavatory and the laughing God

2005-08-19T23:06:00.000-07:00

august 19: friday: day 10 (part 3)

the process of journalling became almost as addictive as blogging- although for different reasons... i just couldn't bear losing so many of those thoughts and memories because i knew i'd have no way of retrieving them afterwards.

the mind is a funny computer- everything you've done, everything you've seen, heard, felt, tasted or otherwise experienced is saved somewhere on your internal hard-drive... but the files are buried so deep in unlabelled folders that accessing them is next to impossible sometimes.

the journal is a labelled shortcut
***

so we set out for batticaloa. the conversation was warm and free, which was refreshing after our trip to the garden and back.

we ate at an amazing restaurant that was suggested by our driver. al took some great 'album cover shots' at the table. ginger beer was as omnipresent as God in our photographs- kinda funny how many times afterward i found myself explaining to people that this was just soda pop bottled by coca-cola.

feeling some pressure from the journey, i excused myself and went to the washroom. i was about to assume the position when i noticed that the seat was wet (quite common, as they have the little squirtgun thingie which sends water- well- anywhere you point the thing) so i went to wipe off the seat... a lizard of some sort about four to six inches long zipped around inside the toilet bowl up to the spot where the water comes down just below the seat in the front... well, that was it for me- suddenly i didn't have to take a dump anymore... it wasn't until the following morning that i was able to declench after that one!
***

on the road, lazarus was passing out, so i moved from the back of the van to the all-but-uninhabitable middle seat. having no legroom at all, i decided to lay on my back with my legs crossed up against the side window- somehow i allowed myself to fall asleep while travelling a sri lankan highway at night.
***

when i awoke, we were at the hotel... and what a hotel! for 6300 rupees/night, we had all the western comforts of your basic resort hotel. it represented the laughter of God, for it was a surprise outpouring of his goodness. (for more on the laughing God, go to http://northvus.blogspot.com/2005/03/laughing-god.html)

by far the nicest restroom facilities encountered on the trip were here in this $63/night hotel. hot water, a shower stall, toilet paper- you name it!

i joked with al, as we lay in our tidy little sri lankan resort hotel beds, that in this light he had very nice eyes. to take things further in the wrong direction, we discussed the possibility of sending jey a massage at 7 a.m. the following morning.

to eden and back

2005-08-19T18:50:00.000-07:00

august 19: friday: day 10 (part 2)

on our way to the hotel after breakfast, a bigass iguana went ... well, now here's a problem: what do bigass iguanas do? do they 'scurry'? do they 'slither'? check www.Dictionary.com for an apt synonym for 'cross' and get back to me- the most accurate one will be posted! (yeah, whatever.)

anyway, we headed from the hotel uddawaththa to kandy to 'see the sights.' the day before, while i was at the mission distract meeting, a number from our group went to the elephant sanctuary- now today it was off to the botanical gardens. there were two things that actually sustained me during this time (apart from the obvious beauty of the gardens themselves)

jay's wife, son (my buddy 'prince') and daughters were with us on the excursion, so i was still with the sri lankan people
we had changed our plans yet again and would, in fact, be leaving for batticaloa upon returning to kabool lanka in the afternoon after all.

driving through one of the towns on the way, i was amazed at how often the buildings and storefronts that lined the streets were facades, obscuring from the autopublic's eye the shacks and shanties immediately behind. how like people everywhere?

we greet the faces shown to us with a face we've chosen for the occasion
***

on the road, colleen started singing the songs that she had taught the kids. with jay's family travelling with us, the sound of the different voices and accents singing the old chestnut bind us together felt allegorical.
***

we drove by a lot with row upon row of van fronts and side panels. my western mind smirked but my eastern experience would not get the joke until later, as the only traffic mishap we had seen up to that point was the day when we came upon a bus that had backed over some guy's bike...

(sadly, two days later when al and i would return from batticaloa, we would come upon the collision of a van and a lorry which had claimed the lives of two in the van... the van had passed on a blind corner and found itself occupying the same space as the front righthand corner of the truck.)

... not like at home where it's pretty hard to go for a drive anywhere without coming upon someone taking down someone else's insurance info after a fender bender.
***

i was glad for about a million reasons that i was to go with al and jey and lazarus to batticaloa instead of to the tea plantation the next day... (although i would regret it a bit later, upon discovering that one of the pastors- john peter i think- had taken those who had visited him there around and had bestowed upon them gifts of rich ceylon tea. still, i wouldn't trade away the batticaloa experience for anything... not even amazing tea!)

unlike our group, which was on quite a tight schedule for the day's excursion, this bus had backed down into the river at kandy to allow the passengers a brief respite from the heat

the dynamic of the group upon entering the gardens at kandy was stiff and cool because of some thermal inversion that had taken place at the gate when a warm front of good intention collided with a cold front of brisk pragmatism brought in by a high wind. some pouting and some counterpunctual 'all i said was...' ensued. i found myself sadly resolved to the fact that, no matter where you are and no matter what you are trying to do, there are times when bind us together is only a song.

jay's daughters reach for some forbidden fruit... 'forbidden' in that no one is allowed to remove anything from this botanical sanctuary... i thought of taking a picture of some 'big bambu' but i was running out of space!

still, it all makes sense. people are great at focussing and getting a job done, working well towards a common goal- holding it together until the task at hand is completed. when issues arise, they press on because they are unified to some degree by their collective mission. however, once that mission is complete, then the diverse personalities that have been brought together for the mission have to somehow relate without the mission itself dictating the pace at which the relationships progress or digress. having completed the main work to which we are called, having battled together to keep the soldiers to our right and our left alive, we sometimes turn that energy on each other during peacetime... can't we all just get along?

eustace gazes upon what i think the 'tree of life' looked like in eden
***
a vanload of pastors drove away just after we returned from our thrilling drive to the sri lankan 'eden' and back. some on their way to the bus, some connecting bus and train- many travelled four to nine hours to return home. we had dropped jay's family off at the bus depot in kandy before making our twisting, turning mountainous way back to kabool lanka, and jay headed off with the group in the van after passing me a sunday morning church program bearing his address.

no one had their own vehicles (with the exception of a couple motorcycles) largely because of the cost of petrol. although it was only $0.75/litre, in the economy of sri lanka this would translate to something absolutely unaffordable for most people, especially pastors of devout but impoverished congregations.

salt and light

2005-08-19T13:55:00.000-07:00

august 19: friday: day 10 (part 1)

the next morning found me feeling still very reflective, remembering kumarasiri's request for prayers of protection from the 'police monks' who have already been in his face bigtime; remembering mohamed taking lazarus' wife and daughters back to colombo in his 3-out-of-4-speed 'auto' while still fighting off a major fever; remembering isac- the only sri lankan other than lazarus to regularly smile for pictures- giddiness; remembering jay's dark face, his bright red shirt and his invitation to come speak at his church in the hill country the following summer; remembering how these people glow with a simple yet profound light when speaking of or singing to Jesus...

in many ways it feels like i am being sent from sri lanka to the west to bring this light to my own country, not the other way round. this is the way i must see things or i grow anxious thinking of 'church in canada' and all that goes with it.

i long for my own family to experience this, and dare to imagine one or both of my sons choosing to serve Jesus in this place. yet, i know that canada is alos in desperate need of a few good men.
***

every morning, ben was up at 4:30 reading his bible and praying. even as i came upon him in the dining commons on that last day of meetings in kabool lanka, the bible was open.

that's the key, isn't it? being that everything happening was happening at the ground floor of the building God was erecting here, it was really important to regulate everything in the interest of a healthy movement in the future.

the one thing that was jeopardizing (or at least slowing down) the progress of this movement was not the tsunami... it was mammon.

this is a god that divides even men of God from each other, compromising relationships and character, eclipsing God's sun with a lifeless but more immediate moon.

while we were readying ourselves for a lengthy trip into kandy, we were largely unaware of the reason that ben was, on this day, so earnestly seeking strength and direction from scripture. there was a meeting that was to take place in the morning prior to the coming together of the b.o.a. (board of administration) involving a couple of pastors- in fact a pastor and his associate- that were experiencing relational difficulty.

driving throughout the morning and then visiting the spectacular gardens at kandy, we would have no idea until later on of the difficulty that had been consuming these men's joy. however, by the time we arrived back at kabool lanka that evening, the issues had been resolved and the b.o.a. had in fact been able to meet- although they had met in the afternoon as the salt of the matthew 18 process had taken all morning to work into their wounds... the point is, however, not how long it took but how it healed.

in the end there was newly restored trust between two colleagues, and that which had been used by hell to splinter their relationship had instead united them and strengthened their resolve. instead of david and absalom, these men got back to being paul and silas.

pictures and an exhibition

2005-08-18T23:59:00.000-07:00

august 18: thursday: day 9 (part 4)
taking pictures after the ordination service, the funniest ones by far involved the youth.

the two rather sunny-looking people in the back are colleen and me. .. in the front row (although i'm so frustrated that i don't have their names- colleen probably has them in her journals) is the singing group consisting of lazarus' two daughters flanking robert's daughter (jesuthas' sister) here, with their attorney in black, wearing the cool poncho-thing refered to below. then of course there is jesuthas and isac.

first, there was prince (jay's son, the dolkie player, who eventually took the shot above- the abandoned dolkie to the right represents him) who couldn't figure out the digital camera, standing there with a completely baffled look on his face reminiscent of steve martin's 1979 schtick ('this camera is so simple that even an idiot...' poof, the camera's flash goes off right in his face) trying to sort it all out; then isac took a pictue when nobody was ready and the whole group (but particularly the girls) exploded with tamil versions of 'HEY, WAIT UNTIL WE'RE READY, DUMBASS!'... well finally when isac did get it together, he completely cut jesuthas' and my heads from the frame.
***

i asked the girls at lunch where i could get one of those cool 'girl pancho' backwards scarf things. apparently i just need to go shopping in colombo... one of the girls spoke english more clearly and fluently than i'd heard- even smoother in accent than ben! she intends to become a lawyer.

trio: jesuthas, me and isac
as we ate together, jesuthas, isac and i laughed a lot. these guys had such warmth and silly humour that the laughter was always easy with them. of course it was a great novelty item to have this stupid canadian bunching his food at your table, rather than eating with cutlery at his. still, who knew when i would see these guys again? i was determined to drink deeply of their friendship in whatever way i could.

at one point, isac looked into my plate and asked 'what's this?'

i proceded to provide him with the english phrase 'green beans', thinking (presuming) that he was asking for an english lesson. he looked at me with one of those 'do i look stupid to you?' looks and tried again.

'what's this?'
'rice'
'this?'
'curried fish'
'this?' (back to the green beans again... i was beginning to feel like i was the one receiving the lesson, but it was happening in a roundabout way.)
'green beans'
'and this?' (the penny dropped- i could see now that there was something- in fact many somethings- nestled in with my green beans that were decidedly NOT green beans!)
'aaah- pepper!'

from here i was instructed to not, under any circumstances, eat one of these because they would make my eyes water. yep, it was a dare. being the performing monkey that i have let myself become over the years, i stuffed the thing into my mouth and proceeded to chew it in defiance (knowing that you are not supposed to chew these things if you want to avoid the power surge.)

lucky for me, this was a mild one. made me look like a star. isac brought water and i waved it off. after the second one i was grateful for it, however. these things were heavy fuel.

still, i wouldn't have traded that fire for comfort. that fire was because of a friendship that had even extended to the humiliation of your buddy. only the deepest friendships are mutually permitted to go there.
***

at the missions district meeting, lazarus passes me a pack of photos showing gifts received (bicycles, sewing machines, fans, a motorcycle, power saws etc) and tsunami rubble. this is part of the sharing of oneself.

i think it's fair to say that i've fallen in love with this land and its people.

many warm poitu varams and many photographs, that the faces would not be permitted to fade from memory.
***

al and i visited together until late in the night, talking about church buildings, servant hearts, idolatry, music, beatles records that got away and whatever else. this friendship i share with him is a blessed, unassuming thing.

sri lankan FM, the next generation

2005-08-18T12:18:00.000-07:00

august 18: thursday: day 9 (part 3)

the one thing that i don't think i spent much time thinking about until the ordination service was the kids' program. i mean, i knew that it was running and everything, but it never floated across the screen of my mind until i saw these beautiful little kids standing onstage reciting scriptures that they had learned in tamil and singing songs.

colleen, sylvia and ruby worked with the kids and many of the ladies all week- in truth, once the pastor sessions were going we didn't see any of them except for meals. this was colleen's mission, as she represented the 'women's ministries' group in eastern (well, ontario) canada that had raised $4000 dollars in order to see resourcing come directly to the families of the pastors at this retreat. colleen, having an incredible love for children and that 'early childhood teacher connection' (which i have also observed, acknowledged and affirmed so much in mrs jollybeggar, a kindergarten teacher) was deeply involved in the lives of the kids here. she was always writing down names and descriptions, and was the other 'journalist' on our trip... although i think she feel desperately behind after that first wild sunday! anyway, in addition to being clearly equipped for the task of teaching the kids, colleen was also adept at building up and empowering other leaders amongst the sri lankan women present- in keeping with our global ministries directive: 'how can we live amongst you so that Jesus would be more real to you?'

what a gift (similar to the drama the night before) it was to see the next generation of sri lankan free methodist leaders together. the vision was eventually shared with us the next day that the movement in sri lankan free methodism anticipates incredible growth over the next few years, so the kids standing before us represented the foundation of something exciting yet to come.

as equally touching was to see lazarus with his own daughters and their friends, united in song as one voice... to the sound of lazarus out of tune guitar that seemed to be ubiquitous and therefore synonymous for the worship music here up to this point!

ordained roles in the kingdom

2005-08-18T12:08:00.000-07:00

august 18: thursday: day 9 (part 2)
well by this point, i had taken note of a number of cultural differences:

eating with the right hand (bunching)
driving on the left side
not saying 'excuse me' etc... just acting in courtesy
openly clearing sinuses (hocking) even during prayer
taking shoes off in church
head bobbling rather than nodding in agreement
introductions by last name, as first names are way difficult for anglos
almost everyone younger is older than they look
almost everyone older is younger than they look

thinking about the whole dances with wolves thing further, i am amazed at how, with basic familiarity (but probably more importantly within the context of relationship) conversation with many (e.g. lazarus, mohamed etc) becomes easier and more natural. the sri lankans let you into conversation with them when they are ready... they have to be feel you first.

although i don't have a copy of it yet, al did me a huge favour by filming the songs we did together at the ordination service. playing and leading worship singing as part of this event was a blessing. lazarus told me afterward that he had prayed that parasute avi ya navare would flow freely, and that his prayer was answered.

this was a relief because i thought that i had lost his guitar pick (turned out he had put it in his pocket and then changed his shirt... because of the heat and humidity the sri lankans change their shirts a lot) and was worried that my part in the day would be somewhat intrusive.

what was affirming about the whole deal was that, although i had not gone there to be big mr worship leader guy from the west, God still used the gifts that he has entrusted to me in this area. the worship leader gifting was not simply something that he had intended to see used in my own culture, but in any culture within which i were to find myself.

sometimes because of the way i am wired up, i start thinking that perhaps God is done with this or that expression of my faithfulness to him... particularly as he calls me into new roles for his glory. it is at times like that that i am reminded how all things are to be for his glory and how i need not think so much...

robert, attended left to right by francis (white shirt) daniel, mahomed, lazarus (back) and jey (checking his notes)

whatever the case, the ordination service was touching- especially as the two pastors being ordained, david and robert, are both from tsunami-affected areas, having suffered great loss in their personal and community lives, yet remaining true to the calling of God in spite of residual bitterness, anger, confusion and questions.

david and his wife, al's goatee, jay's white shirt this time, kumarisiri's white pants

the faith of these men has touched my own with its depth.

back row: lazarus, kumarisiri, daniel, mohamed, jey
front row: francis, robert, (mrs robert- sorry!), (mrs david- sorry again!), david, jay, (mrs jay-okay enough!) al, ben

snake jerky and smoked ego

2005-08-18T12:07:00.000-07:00

august 18: thursday: day 9 (part 1)
after a really long, cold night (the air conditioning finally came on on the coolest night so far, and turn my room into an inverse igloo- subzero temperatures inside but comfortably warm outside) i walked with al to the conference centre.
***

following breakfast i came upon a hippy scene where lazarus and his daughters and some of the other young people (prince, isac and jesuthas were all there) were sitting in a sunbeam singing while lazarus strummed his guitar. it had such an informal, easy feel that i didn't realize that they were actually practicing for the music they would perform as part of the ordination service. i just sat and listened to the harmony in another one of those i still can't believe i'm here moments.

with 'rehearsal' done, the girls left and lazarus put his guitar down. i asked if i could play it a bit (because we had a half an hour or so before the ordination service was to begin) and lazarus ceremonially handed me the pick.

i was jamming on the guitar with jesuthas and isac (and i think colleen had joined us too by then) when mohamed came by with song sheets- he was sick as a dog, having caught some flu the night he took ivon home (he got back that night after 3 a.m.) and we sang a bunch of common songs including Lord i lift your name on high in english then tamil then sinhala.

ben happened upon all this singing and caught the energy, suggesting that we do the three-language thing for the ordination service.
***

speaking of ben... the night before, i was heading back from the hotel to the conference centre on foot when i was taken hostage by ben, jey and kumarasiri (an absolutely warm and altogether amazing translator) who were on a water run.

we drove to the nearby village where we bought water for the canadians back at the ministry centre and ginger beers for ourselves. i also had an apple which was a nice treat. then ben convinced me that this stuff that looked like wood was actually dried snake...

ben ate a piece and so, not to be outdone(?) i took a piece. "kinda like jerky..." i said "what kind of snake is this?"

ben couldn't hold it any longer- "it's just fish" he said.

ben sat beside me all innocent in the morning session- he's a slippery one in some ways!
***

ruby started eating with her hand. at breakfast, jey made some joke to ben about eating with a fork saying 'oh right- you're canadian..." he then pointed at me slopping around in my rice and fish and said "and he's sri lankan!"

we all laughed, but i hoped that the joke hadn't poked ben. he would love to return here for good- he told me so while we were sampling dried snake- but his kids don't like it in sri lanka. i sensed a deep disappointment in this...

whatever, the case, sylvia said "well then we can leave him here!"

no ego allowed... it is an exposed button that satan loves to push, regardless of your own personal intercontinental drift.

still, once the ego smoke had cleared, i realized that part of me kinda liked the idea...

dolkies, drunks and dramatic conclusions

2005-08-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

august 17: wednesday: day 8 (part 4)

as part of the vespers service (which was typically in tamil and sinhala) antony included some english singing... traditional songs like there is power in the blood etc... which allowed me, for one, to feel very much part of the fellowship.

added to lazarus' guitar accompaniment and the collective voices and natural percussion of the people as they sang was a cool sounding drum played by prince, jay's son (that's the three of us above- you can probably tell who's who... i hope everyone reading appreciates the trouble i went to to make my face the the blocks on prince's dolkie match the colour scheme of this blog... in order to accomplish this i had to hold my breath while smiling- no small task!) this drum, the likes of which i'd seen in the tourist market shops of negombo, was essentially conical in shape, having a small skin on one end and a large one on the other. it was called a dolkie and was played sideways, allowing the player to keep a high cadence on the tighter, smaller skin while punctuating the meter with the looser, larger skin. the percussion that prince added was brilliant, having that familiar swing and swagger that much of the punjabi dj stuff on the radio (and on my bend it like beckham cd) features.

i found that the extra instrument really added another dimension to the worship singing, introducing greater polyrhythmic possibilities. most intriguing were prince's fills... they always came unexpectedly and were delivered in ways that were clearly natural here and very foreign to my western sense of timing and emphasis. i resolved myself to somehow bringing one home with me.

it would be really cool to hear my friends in the west singing 'avi ya navare' but somehow i doubt that that's going to happen.

(a word about faith and presumption: i wrote this sentence in my journal, believing completely in the truth of the statement. however, within a month we were singing the song in a church service back home with, among other things, dolkie accompaniment. these things don't happen as long as you live in agreement with the sulphurous lies of faithlessness breathed into the hearts of the faithful by the staff of hell... only in embracing impossibilities does one see the possibilities of the will of Almighty God...)

prayers were also introduced in english ('now we will pray for our countries') before continuing in tamil and sinhala.

following vespers, there was an impromptu (at least it wasn't part of the initial plan for the evening drafted up by the ministry centre) youth program- similar to the final pagaents of our familiy camps. it involved a drama about the tsunami...

drama here appeared to be more of a reenactment of life than a skit put on for a laugh. this collective creation had a series of episodes:

a church service, complete with two full worship songs having dolkie accompaniment and a full sermon preached by prince. in this episode, the people ignore the word.
at the bar, the boys are drinking and staggering around- now these are all peachers' kids in real life, so to see them staggering around with their ginger beer bottles was pretty fun in and of itself- until a warning comes on the phone of the coming tsunami. the guy who answers looks into the group of drunks and says "sue nami is coming... anybody here know this sue nami?" ( i just about died- these young people have never seen the simpsons, yet these bad phone jokes are all over the world!)
the pastor preaches but the people continue to look preoccupied.
the pastor comes to preach in the bar, but he gets beaten up and thrown into the street.
tsunami comes- the teens run a lap of the auditorium screaming (and laughing of course because running screaming through an auditorium is fun no matter what part of the world you are in)
final chapter: the people now fall down crying before the pastor- "pastor save us; we will listen- we need Jesus! give us Jesus!"

as i think upon this, i marvel at the piece's sublimity. there are two significant imes of imprinting in life... early infancy and early adolescence. the difference is that, in early adolescence, the imprinting time is remembered and the memories are vivid. this group will remember tsunami more than those oldern than them and those younger than them. these memories will shape the world that they eventually lead.

it was only eight months earlier that roberts' oldest son, jesuthas, was hired to clear bodies off the beach of batticaloa using a cart much like the guy in the holy grail who is loading away plague victims. the capacity of jesuthas' cart was thirteen bodies/load... he put his best friend on the cart. he was twenty now- only nineteen then.
***

the evening wound up with more games and skits and other things that had the same warmth and laughter of the last night of family camp back home. it felt like this was the night that everybody stayed up late because we were on the eve of the last day together. tomorrow would be the ordination service and many goodbyes.

you are our guest

2005-08-17T19:27:00.000-07:00

august 17: wednesday: day 8 (part 3)
the group decided at lunch to go on an 8-hour trip to see a tea plantation. i asked al if there was some work or visitation i could do instead.

i don't feel comfortable going off sight-seeing when i have personally sequestered support from my friends and my church to go on this mission. apart from coming in response to a call from God, i haven't really done anything cool to get here like eustace or colleen and i feel enough like a freeloader without becoming a tourist to boot...

i was not judging the others who were interested in going; i was struggling with both the whole 'holiday' idea and the fact that i wanted to report back to my church the rebuilding progress in the tsunami-affected area around robert's church in batticaloa. because this wasn't happening, i felt not only disappointment but also the need to ensure that the money and the prayers of those who sent me were well-spent.

upon my return to the room in the afternoon after a really eye-catching walk back to the hotel from the conference centre through the lush tropical countryside (this path looks much different when you are driving an auto for the first time) i was pleasantly surprised to find my laundry. i had left it out in the morning as i left, secretly wondering if i'd ever actually see these items again. however, there they were outside my room, washed and neatly pressed. i would have to rewash the pair of pants worn at the baptism because they were still looking a bit rough from the ride back in mohamed's dusty auto, but things were certainly freshened up.

the laundry was wrapped in newspaper (an odd choice considering how newsprint runs) with various items of local and regional interest and colour- written in tamil, of course. the best section was 'spoken english' which had some simple and pointless dialogue in english to practice with a friend... reminded me of you are our guest on the bob and doug mckenzie album... or french classes i took in high school:

ou est bill? bill est dans la salle de bain.

no maryann, but a whole lotta ginger

2005-08-17T17:19:00.000-07:00

august 17: wednesday: day 8 (part 2)
the opportunity arose to go to a tea plantation or something because the trip to batticaloa was cancelled due to basic time constraints and the current 'state of national emergency' that was declared immediately following the assassination of the sri lankan foreign minister. a state of national emergency in sri lanka means (at this level, anyway) that loose curfews are imposed resulting in random police checks of any vehicle after dark. typically these were pretty mellow though, because the soldiers would take one look at these white (or in my case, red, of course) faces and say 'move along.'

still, because of all of this going on, travel to the east (through many army training camps, official spot checks etc) had slowed down drastically, and it was already a seven to eight-hour drive.

a typical spot check... are your papers in order?
thing is, i wasn't really interested in a holiday excursion- i wanted to do some work or, at the very least, see God's hand at work rather than to see what man had done to agriculturally develop this area, wonderful as the tea was.

when adam was placed in the garden to 'tend it,' he had not yet sinned, therefore one could argue that there was no farming to do (and let's not even bother with the notion that it was probably women who developed irrigation systems and farm implements, as the men were traditionally held to have been hunting- either food or each other- after the fall... that's not the point) i wonder if tending the garden simply meant to watch it; to gaze upon it; to enjoy it... or maybe this is just my subconscious saying that i don't like yard work...
***

lazarus discovers something unexpected in his food while daniel chows down.
notice how 'uncluttered' the place settings are...
at lunch, as i walked into the dining commons, i saw things with new eyes. i realized for the first time that the only table that had cutlery on it was the canadians' table. funny how even the simplest of experiences can lead you to be open to perceptions to which you were blind because of basic environmental and cultural screens. anyway, i ate with my hand in public at that meal (and, in fact, from then on.) doesn't sound like any big deal, but there was a real knack to it. i had been a total mess the night before, but did much better at lunch with a table.

this was an immersion experience, of sorts, after all.

ginger tea and ginger beer, i don't think i'll ever taste ginger again without thinking of sri lanka.

varying degrees of transcultured, depending on time of day

2005-08-17T11:52:00.000-07:00

august 17: wednesday: day 8 (part 1)
i woke up, having fallen asleep the night before a very happy man.

i had had a really great talk with al about vision and future and retirement in the service of God and missions involvement etc, and then had returned to my room where i lay on my bed flipping through pictures on the camera and smiling with an incredible love for the many new face that had become familiar friends.
***

a group of students waiting for the bus at kabool lanka

i was still struggling with unlove for the spiritual and social blindness that so often grips the west, and i would continue to do so until the flight home when God spoke to me somewhere between london and toronto... God challenged:

you must not bite the hand that feeds you
the west lovingly sent you out
and so to the west you are to lovingly return

okay. when God speaks to you on a plane, you make sure you listen, lest he resort to more drastic measures to get your attention!
(that is, of course, a joke steeped in really bad theology)
***

i didn't feel very well during morning prayer- weak and nauseous- and resolved to lay off of sri lankan food a bit for a day. i had been eating/sampling everything and was thoroughly enjoying the exotic new tastes and textures. however, a really good cup of ceylon tea seemed to cure whatever was ailing me. (later i discovered it was the malaria meds that were making me swoon)

the tea here is worthy of its reputation, rich and dark and deeply satisfying.
***

interesting clash of values: i was talking with lazarus about repairing the machine head of his guitar- you couldn't tune the low E because the knob is broken right off- but he made it clear that this was not needed.

what was needed? an amplifier.

i told this to dan, who replied that a few more chords wouldn't hurt either.
***

in the morning session a lively discussion ensued as these pastors engaged in business matters. a part-time pastor in sri lanka who holds another job is not recognized as a pastor by some 'organizations' (sri lankan euphemism for 'denominations')...

kinda rules me out- and considering that mohamed's taxi is literally rescuing people from a Godless eternity, i feel that the position of said organizations is pure bollocks.

there are certain inescapable economic realities here, and the poorest of people are being reached by 'part-time' pastors (as if a pastor could ever be 'part-time' and true to his or her call anyway)... how much are these people going to be able to financially support a full-time pastor? it takes many widows for the mites to be sufficient... do we damn the poor in order to focus on more 'lucrative' investments of our time? of course not; an unhealthy interest in mammon and 'success' and all that ultimately sends us down an all-consuming corridor of darkness- not into the 'light' of economic stability. God will not bless selfishness; God opposes the haughty and the proud.
***

i was invited by mohamed- not looking terribly well- to go to jennifer's house church (the girl whom we had baptized on the previous sunday) sometime in the coming weekend. i hoped i'd be back from batticaloa in time to do this.
***

i was thinking a lot about dances with wolves (even my handwritten journal bears some similarity to the packaging of the special edition) and john dunbar's transformation as he discovers a greater affinity with a culture other than his own. as his love grows for the sioux people and their ways, he becomes transcultured.

and i wondered if this was happening to me, and if so, what might it lead to if given over to God completely?
***
odd and pointless little tangent: my great great grandmother was full blooded sioux.
'where my people lay buried- there is my land' (crazy horse)

not unlike

2005-08-16T21:57:00.000-07:00

august 16: day 7: tuesday (part 3)
in the evening as we went in for supper, mohamed greeted me at the door of the dining commons holding two plates and said 'come to my house?'

i presumed that the other plate was for ivon and so i grabbed a plate and scooped some multi-coloured goodies onto it, stopping at the canadian table long enough to grab some cutlery and a banana (hey- wait a minute!)

having supper with mohamed and ivon was a beautiful time. we talked in bit phrases about our countries, our ministries, my family and the power of God. they taught me to eat with my hand by bunching, and were very gracious in doing so- the cutlery i brought with me went unused.

ivon spoke some decent english, and acted as interpreter for most of the evening, occasionally growing mildly impatient with mohamed's lack of vocabulary and english grammar. i laughed watching them together, for they reminded me a lot of mrs jollybeggar and me... especially earlier in our marriage where we were in our mid twenties and there were only two of us.

with mohamed and ivon, i experienced a simple and familiar hospitality... no 'eastern host- western guest' business, just people enjoying a good meal and good fellowship together.

it is a blessing to feel alike, not once again unlike.

one of the things that kept coming up (because i kept bringing it up in numerous conversations) was the need for tamil songs written out in english letters... not necessarily english words in translation, just something phonetic so that the anglophones like myself who are incapable of reading the 256 letter tamil alphabet could participate more than simply humming and clapping.
***

small prayer, big power-
sinhala:
swamini karunaa karuna
(Lord, give us your grace)
Jesus wahnsege; namen
(in Jesus' name, amen)

tamil:
undha vede kirube seyum
Jesuvin- namata; amen
***
prayer song:
(this was the most memorable tune of my time in sri lanka. it has become a private worship mantra for me... a prayer anthem)
tamil:
inhala cule vasum seyum, avi ya navare
(be with us, spirit)
avi ya navare, avi ya navare
(spirit, spirit)
parasute avi ya navare
(holy spirit)
***

ivon went back home (nugegodo) in a van after supper. she had eaten some beef about a month earlier that had caused an extreme allergic reaction in her feet. it basically made her feet look like those of a hobbit, and was incredibly painful. she could hardly walk but you wouldn't know it to sit and talk with her... definately not north american- no whining.

taking the van was a good idea because traveling that distance by three-wheel taxi (mohamed's- three out of four gears working) it had taken five and a half hours to make the 65 km trip to come here. do the math.

as it was, when mohamed returned the next day, he had run himself down to the point where he developed a major fever. he would be battling it right up to the last time i saw him on my last evening in sri lanka five days later.

a few observations

2005-08-16T19:00:00.000-07:00

august 16, tuesday, day 7 (part 2)
assorted notes and thots

the drivers in this country are a great example of well-placed faith. it would probably be scary to be riding in a vehicle if you actually let yourself think about it... however, you just know your driver knows what he's doing- even if you don't!
***

i brought a pillow case so that i'd have one for my trip to batticaloa... but i left it in the room back at the topaz hotel in negombo- great!
***

listening to jey share 'purpose driven church,' i wonder if he is trying to speak so insanely fast because he needs to, or simply because he is pumped up by the crowd- how can you get that excited about rick warren's alliteration games? for that matter, how does alliteration in english translate to tamil which, to the untrained ear, is ALL alliteration?

it is a little intimidating to speak in this environment, as the way an english-speaking westerner speaks through an interpreter is pretty dull by comparison, no matter how you cut it.
***

someone mentioned earlier in the week as we were navigating the streets of colombo with the radio on that these announcers sounded like auctioneers.
***

we got into an interesting conversation over lunch concerning preconceived knitting notions concerning the 'women's ministries' organization. good conversation- maybe all the organization needs is a better name to dispell the said notions- marketing is everything in the western world...

A is for asinine

2005-08-16T18:05:00.000-07:00

august 16: tuesday: day 7 (part 1)

i couldn't run this day (in fact, i wouldn't run again until the trip was over) but i did walk from the hotel to the conference centre- about a kilometer. wet, tropical and jungle-like, the walk was lush and breath-taking. the air was thick and heavy with morning glory.

colleen made friends with a water buffalo that 'mooed' incessantly once she left it. awww.
***

i spoke with robert and david during teatime about the tsunami. both pastor in tsunami-affected areas and were to be ordained as free methodist church in sri lanka pastors on thursday. david's village had lost over two hundred people- he had personally lost family. robert had prayed to God 'i hate.'

somehow, none of my correct responses met with any ascent in their eyes.
Q: the people of my village ask 'why did God send the tsunami? what do i say to them?'
A: God didn't send the tsunami- but he's working through it...

see? doesn't quite cut it. i tried another approach...
A: if nothing else, God has called my church in canada into a greater awareness of who he is and how important it is for us to love and act upon this love outside of our little city or country...

not much better.

in Q and A times, let us not let our 'A' stand for 'asinine.'
just shut up and listen.

outside, beside the highway, two dogs lay curled up, sleeping peacefully in the morning sun on a pile of ash and garbage.
***

in preparation for my talk on discipleship, ben and i workied for over an hour and a half on wordings... it was like paraphrasing scripture into worship song lyrics- sometimes an idea or concept wouldn't transfer and would require a redirect, but overall it was an amazing experience. i felt good about the time we spent, as quotes by people like dallas willard and gary zukav cannot really be translated well live and have the essence of the idea remain intact.

i had dropped my first immodium of the whole trip prior to speaking... just didn't need that kind of action while delivering the only actual message that i was commissioned to deliver on this trip.

the actual talk was, in my mind, successful. the pastors were graciously engaged and responsive. God did some great stuff, both in the last minute preparation with ben and live.
***

another note about ben: he was an integral part of every session in some way. he did so much more than simply interpretation- it was hardcore facilitation.

when there was need to clarify and discuss a point made by either me or al in our sessions, ben would just do it rather than simply relay back and forth. because ben was so in harmony with everything we all were about, having him interpret was like having a really good driver in colombo at rush hour.
***

none of us were pastors before we started becoming pastors.
(best idea in the whole discipleship lesson, expressing the need to build up those that serve 'under' us as assistants etc.)

afterwards, the resident crazy man had a couple of points to contend, having completely missed mine.
***

following the teaching time, mohamed and i went for a drive in his taxi- but i got to drive! al shot some bouncy footage of it from the backseat which was priceless, but the trick would be to get a copy. apparently nobody from any of our teams has ever done that- driven an auto, that is, not wrenched film footage from al's grasp- cool. mohamed and i seemed to be able to easily connect.
***

by the end of the day, all of the canadians were sitting around exhausted after a full one. at times like that i was prone to guilt because i was not actually 'doing' as much as some of the others. in those times, however, God would bring back the experiences of the day and the connections that i had made and remind me that this was my intended mandate- to build relationships and make plain the way so others could more easily travel there to be used of God in the ways that he intended for them.

that i was having so much fun was probably just indicative of the smile of God.

speaking in tongues

2005-08-15T19:40:00.000-07:00

august 15: monday: day 6 (part 3)

the retreat centre- constructed by big korean business as part of a major textiles factory campus that, up until the war (civil, ongoing) had provided jobs for 4500 people- was absolutely amazing (albeit desserted) with an incredible edenesque courtyard.

heart-breaking that this place was in the middle of absolutely nowhere and underutilized.
***

the worship times here were incredibly charismatic. i was joking one day that tamil sounds a lot like speaking in tongues... so i wondered if when tamils speak in tongues it sounds like english?

boy, did i laugh inside when, at the end of the first song when everybody was speaking and singing in the spirit, the leader started "praiseGodpraiseGodpraiseGodpraiseGod..." !

geez- and i was joking.

all jokes and cultural surprises aside, the worship singing was powerfully moving. as i would comment numerous times over the course of the trip "different words, same voice."
***

watching the bilingual discourse and the antiphonal cadence of these guys who have done this tagteam, tamil/sinhala thing for so long, i find it fun to try to imagine a french/english back and forth that knitted together so tightly... not even our cereal boxes translate idea-by-idea.

listening to these guys (in particular jey and kumar's "purpose driven church" sessions adapting rick warren's material- not pictured here, however, because it was just too darn animated) speak, i could understand how english-speaking crowds can fall asleep in church, whereas tamils and sinhalas don't. these guys speak so fast and loud and with such passion that you have no chance to get drowsy!

two scoops and two hours

2005-08-15T18:18:00.000-07:00

august 15: monday: day 6 (part 2)
al joined us, having finally arrived the evening before. this would be the only complete day that the team was together with all members present. dan would be leaving for bangkok on tuesday evening.

dan and ben planning tours of elephant sanctuaries and botanical gardens?

we had lunch after a really relaxed morning of catching up on stories and journalling... we needed to go down the street to another hotel restaurant because the chef at ours was sick and couldn't come to work that day. (sounded kinda like our driver for the last couple of days, whom we eventually fired.)

the rice served made us laugh. two scoops that were- well- rather voluptuous. i teased ben that his were perkier than mine. sorry, no photo available- too risque!
***

eustace left early in the morning (about 6:00 a.m.) to work on the roof. this approach to missions work differs significantly from the old haiti work trips where westerners would go to haiti, do all the work and then fly home. here, eustace came and mentored the young workers, providing direction and expertise, but empowering them to continue the work after he left.

give a man a fish and he'll have food for the day...
teach a man to fish and he'll have food for a lifetime

sounds like how Jesus worked with his disciples.
***

eustace- man, myth or heatstroke victim?

upon returning from lunch, i went for a quick dip in the ocean before getting into the van to go to the family camp/ pastors' retreat at kabool lanka. i only had a little time because eustace had returned and we were once again simply waiting for the van to come. still- had to make the best of it. eustace had some pretty heavy heatstroke from working all morning. however, even though he appeared ill, he also seemed happy at what his team had accomplished on the roof that morning.
***

notice how ben gives up his own personal drinking water for the team.

somewhere along the thirty-five to forty mile trek that would take us the better part of two hours, as hissing sound started and we found ourselves standing around feeling a bit useless as our driver scurried around trying to assess the cause of the engine coolant that was all over the ground underneath our van.

al, in his infinite wisdom and timing says
'sri lanka math: if you're leaving at 4:00, add two hours'
thanks al.

anyway, it turned out to be just a disconnected hose and so we were on the road again almost as suddenly as we had stopped.
***

arriving at the hotel uddawaththa (totally sounded north american first nations to me...) we were presented with a treat: this was a pretty nice place. it was owned and run by a tea company, so it had some corporate cash evident in its design, contruction and furnishings... still wasn't a western hotel. this one felt more (stylistically) like a bed and breakfast-except of course that they had a bar and a restaurant and a really huge fish (along with some regular ones) in their built-in fishpond.
***

i went for a walk down the highway (because everybody else disappeared upon arrival at the hotel- taking naps or something.) this is rural sri lanka, very different from touristy and somewhat metropolitan by western standards negombo and colombo. suspicious looks, many roadside stands, no shoulder on the road, big buses decorated like circus vehicles at christmas go careening by in an ongoing and endless cross-country rally.

in one area, the air was thick with the smell of sri lankan pot, but i failed to get a buzz... just as well- this trip is supposed to be about serving God.

strange temptation in strange places.

the morning after

2005-08-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

august 15: monday: day 6 (part 1)

just to the left of the green auto is the internet cafe that i frequented to stay in touch with the western world through internet and phone services. i'm sure that the little guy who worked in there lived in there! any time, day or night- same guy...
either that or he was cloned.

running down the negombo sidewalks at 6:30 in the morning, one does not experience civil war... one experiences community.

"hellooo- gooood moaning"

it is not until one runs through streets that reek of garbage, excrement and exhaust in 98% humidity that one treasures everyday fresh air.

as i ran, i realized something shocking: i'm lucky (or blessed) that satan didn't kick my spiritual ass... i mean, i've been accepting answers to the prayers of others, but i've been laying down only provisional cover myself.
***

some other (not so heavy) things that i realized i had learned so far:

the post-shower shuffle. after showering, you do this side-step thing to shoop all the water on the floor back into the shower, as the shower 'stall' is merely a square of the washroom sunken about 3 inches with taps, a shower head and no curtains.
you must duck when coming through some doorways, as the people are smaller and therefore so are the doorways... likewise, the chairs are always set closer together with less legroom.
say 'no' to a peddlar without robbing him/her of dignity and self-respect. it's his or her job/contribution to the economy. be firm but warm.

of all the things dan told me, there was only one that i wished he had kept to himself: although the women in this culture are not as heavily exploited by the sex trade as in other parts of the world, young boys and young men are. one will sometimes see a middle-aged, business-type western having a beverage with a handsome (you would probably have to say 'beautiful') fit young guy.

this info made me feel uncomfortable- mainly because i kept wondering if people were presuming things about me whenever i (40-ish white guy) started talking to a young man for everyday reasons. however, you can't let that stuff interfere with the relationships that you have been sent by God to cultivate.

the other night coming back from the internet cafe (where i had been emailing mrs jollybeggar with news) a three-wheeler auto pulled up and the driver said

"hey, you want to go to a dance? very nice girls- come, i take you there..."

yeah, although above i said "as heavily..." it still happens. i think it's probably only the girls that are doing the dancing... i guess the snake uses these taxis for his work too. (thinking of mohamed.)
***

i made some appointments with peddlars the evening before to come back the following sunday (day 11- our last full day in sri lanka) because i didn't want to take souvenirs with me. this meant that i didn't have to do any shopping or haggling then. good plan- that stuff is a hassle.
***

at the internet cafe, i read an email from mrs jollybeggar which began with 'well, there were no exorcisms in church here today!'

yep, that first sunday was an incredible day- i wrote over twenty minimead pages of journals covering that day alone, and probably left out twenty pages more.

voodoo curry and crystal meth

2005-08-14T23:15:00.000-07:00

august 14: day 5: sunday (part 4)

our hosts for the evening, this is one of the many families currently opening their home in the heart of colombo, that the church would come to their neighbourhood rather than trying to find a way to get their neighbourhood to come to church...

we went to the home bible study/ house church prayed for in the morning service. colleen led with a strong salvation message, delivered to a crowd of at least thirty-five to forty gathered in a block-housing apartment.

ben passed out for a little power nap during the worship singing, but this appeared to be God-ordained, as he would need some focus and 'Holy Ghost power' later on during the prayer time that followed the study.

the worship singing itself was extraordinary...
all i need is an outta tune guitar, two chords and the truth
everyone was here on purpose- and you could hear that purpose all throughout the projects.

following the study, prayer time began again. this time, the doors opened and the neighbours from the complex poured in- many with accurately expressed need, many with spiritual need and fabricated infirmities, all wanting prayer.

as i was praying, i heard God speak:
no more of these prayers; i want you over here.

i looked over to see ben and lazarus praying hard with a little old lady whose head kept nodding from side to side (but not the good kind of nodding) with pendulumic regularity and precision. again i thought what do they need me for? and again came the reply: they don't, but you are invited to be part of this work today. i joined the prayer circle and was used of God to bring freedom to this old woman who was a relative of the host family... another 'voodoo curry' (my phrase) sufferer.

it occurs to me that the whole charming of food thing is the more directly spiritual expression of the same evil that would cause a person to lace a drink or a cigarette with crystal meth. it exists wherever one human being seeks to enslave another in order to gain some realization of power aspirations. in some ancient languages the words for sorcery and illicit drug use are interchangeable, as are the words for wizard/sorcerer and pusher.
***

after the prayer time which lasted nearly an hour and saw probably between sixty and seventy people come through for prayer, the place finally cleared out and we were asked to sit down to be served as guests. exhausted, colleen mentioned feeling a bit like an animal in a zoo, sitting there being stared at by our hosts... then we noticed the bananas on the table...

(upon hearing the banana story the next day, al said 'okay, just don't anybody scratch yourself!' thanks al.)
***
as we left that evening, pastor lazarus said "in my language poitu varam- not 'goodbye' but 'go and come again'"
***

i went to bed praying that God would move at northview, my home church in canada... it was 11:00 p.m. here and church was just starting back home.

could it be that, at any given time on a sunday there is a gathering of believers taking place somewhere in the world? now that's a globalized Lord's day.
***
i awakened about three times that night from 'nightmares' but said 'shush' in Jesus' name. (i remembered hearing lazarus saying this to the spirits earlier.)

i knew that the snake was just trying to create distractions without having to actually do any work by pushing exposed subconscious buttons...

lazy bastard. musta been all tired out after a rough day of having it served to him by some humbly yet boldly faithful servants of the one true God...

sour skittles and other cultural exchanges

2005-08-14T18:36:00.000-07:00

august 14: day 5: sunday (part 3)
so many things can seem symbolic when you are trying to make sense of a life-changing experience.

for example, every day while meeting with lazarus at his church in colombo, his wife and her sister (smiling coconut-square girl) prepared a huge meal for us to enjoy. it was expected that the canadians would eat alone. this struck me as a bit odd, but i realized that it was probably just a cultural difference that i needed to be sensitive to. so we would enjoy these lavish banquets, happily clanking our forks and knifes on the plates as we sawed through this or that and marvelled at how richly satisfying sri lankan food was, in the complete absense of our hosts, who would eat afterward.

now this is probably not really symbolic of anything, but it came to be as i thought later about some of the differences between the east and the west.

you see, on sunday afternoon, the 'youth group' (actually young adults, most between 20-23 years of age) returned from a retreat that they had been attending since before we all arrived. the bunch of them bounced through the ministry centre with a rich and full laughter and humour that i realized i had been missing, for there had been no youth around us basically since heathrow. an idea formed in my head- a dreadful idea that would allow me to express my thanks while subjecting my hosts to a bit of western cuisine...

mrs jollybeggar had smuggled some sour skittles into my bag sometime during the viewing of unbreakable on the night before i left. now any connoisseur of sour skittles knows that humidity makes them stick together (i discovered this the hard way in florida a couple years earlier) and so once they are open you pretty much have to eat them all- being that there were too many skittles in this large bag for me alone, i knew i would have to share. you see where this is going? it was the perfect crime.

the posse before tasting sour skittles...
if ever you want to see sri lankan smiles disappear, just produce a camera.
i called the entire youth group together and thanked them for their mothers' hospitality, expressing my gratitude for the many incredible meals that we had enjoyed and all that. then i produced the lime green bag of sour skittles (a good colour for such a thing in such a place, i thought to myself.) they were told that they could (and should) have the whole bag, but that i wanted to watch them eat these things.

so the future of the free methodist church in sri lanka took turns gingerly (good word) taking skittles and popping them into their mouths, then grimmacing and sputtering and laughing loudly. it was a really fun time.

and the symbolism? our hosts had prepared these huge banquets for us, and then permitted us the privacy to sample and eat whatever we liked from it without fear of hurting the feelings of our hosts if something was, for some reason, a bit too 'foreign' to our western pallets; while i brought this evil bag of confection bought at walmart (because it's cheaper there) and stood there laughing at my hosts as they struggled to choke these things down... yet somehow this exchange was perfect because both cultures shared something together and drew closer together by participating in the transaction.

again and again throughout my entire time in sri lanka, i would find myself thinking 'wow, did these people get ripped off... i've come bringing nothing and have left with so much.' yet it was in those moments that God reminded me of the reason that i was there in the first place: to blaze a trail for others who would bring continued resources and expertise. my gift had to do with investment futures... come to think of it, so did their gifts to me, for becoming partners in ministry with my friends in sri lanka would deepen many aspects of my local church back home. good trade.

anyway, having had my fun, i went back onto the deck and, snickering to myself, tried to catch up on the journalling that would eventually become this blog.
***
sing-song time: (to the tune of that old chestnut God is so good)

nan net comparde Jesu don
(i am standing on the rock of Jesus)

mele kele mune pine suitilum avare don
(up down front back all around)

the girls (lazarus' daughters and nieces) taught colleen and me this little song. these girls are absolutely beautiful in every way. they certainly come by their warmth and their charm honestly enough- their parents are incredibly kind, humble and loving people.

we taught the girls 'blessed be the name of the Lord (the tower song)'
and colleen did the actions thing.
***

the water's fine

2005-08-14T14:40:00.000-07:00

august 14: day 5: sunday (part 2)

mohamed ensures that ben doesn't suffer from sunstroke...
in the afternoon we headed off to a river (which mohamed compared to the jordan) in order to baptize the three who gave their testimonies in the morning service. i was invited to participate in this... talk about early church: baptism here (particularly for former buddhists) carries with it a multifaceted death sentence- be it social, political or economic death.

the buddhist monks here are government sanctioned spiritual fathers who lose immediate support (funding) when members of their buddhist flock convert to christianity. here it is legal to be a christian, but it is not legal to evangelize... or baptize, for that matter.

again, i was not needed but i was invited. why?

***

returning, mohamed and i walked together talking- he knew some english; i knew no sinhala- that's the way it goes... yet out of the blue he said 'Jesus dies- give me life; i die- get heaven.'

so i said' Jesus dies- gives you life- you live, bring heaven... heaven starts here, now.' motioning around me at the group of believers walking back from the river.

he smiled and nodded and we continued to walk through the blackened sand, so much cooler and so much cleaner along the surf than up on shore.
***

i got a ride back with mohamed and his wife ivon in their 3-wheel auto... this is his tent-making but it is also an instrument in the hands of God, for God is using it to literally save lives one fare at a time: one of the women we baptized (jennifer) had been picked up by mohamed and his taxi when she was on her way to commit suicide in this same river that she would eventually be baptized in... she was taking her toddler son with her on that eternal journey.

however, the little guy stood up in the service earlier on this day that had seen the baptism of not only his mother but his grandmother also to read from 'the living bible' in english!

salvation has come to this house.

we need more cowbell!

2005-08-14T14:00:00.000-07:00

august 14: day 5: sunday (part 1)

i went for a run at 6:30 a.m. i ran down this street for two or three kilometres and then turned around. the temperature was already over 30 and the humidity was already about 98% so this 6k run was really good for the dehydration!

running past a church, i was touched by the sound of worship singing being pumped through loud speakers into the neighbourhood.

you are not alone.
behold i am with you always- even to the ends of the earth.

sitting on a cornflake waiting for the van to come...
we ate breakfast and then waited for our van which arrived an hour and a half late. a few in our party were a bit uptight about that... our western time thing gets a bit sickening, especially when it happens here... it's like finding beer cans floating in the water on a fishing trip up north where you thought you were far enough from 'civilization' that you had escaped it... whatever, nevermind.

lazarus' kids give us some perspective as to the size of the room...
arriving at the church an hour and a half late, we were pleased to discover that they were only a half hour into it, having begun an hour later than planned. the room is only 10'X40', yet there were about forty people crammed into this space- singing so loudly that you could hear it down on the street. in the worship singing you could just make out the name of Jesus in the chorus of one of the songs.

recalling 1 cor 14.24-25, i wept.
***

speaking with interpreters was grand. one (ben) did the initial translation in tamil, then the other (pastor mohamed, a three-wheel taxi-driver/ordained minister of house churches) translated to sinhala... it took a bit to become familiar with the general cadence of the handoffs, but it was really fun to hear them take a seven-word sentence and turn it into seven ten-word sentences.

so all i could think of was: 'what do these guys need me for?'
this answer for my heart: 'they don't, but you've been invited to participate with them.'
***

afterward, we sang and then prayed over those with needs. three were to be baptized later, so they gave their testimonies and we prayed over them. four more came forward because they were starting a bible study in their home so we prayed over them.

unlike so many of our western churches where the pastor stands at the door and shakes hands or whatever with the parishoners as they head off to their favourite restaurant, the people of the sri lankan churches come to be prayed over and blessed by the pastor before heading into the coming week.

so as per the custom, prayer time began...

this girl began to moan in what sounded like a sexual manner during prayer. she complained of deep stomach pain, and through 'due spiritual process' it was discovered that she had eaten some 'charmed food.' (sloppy english paraphrase...)

you must leave.
she took me in willingly.
how did she do this?
i came with the food.
well you must leave.
i don't want to leave. i like it here.
in the name of Jesus Christ by the power of his blood, i'm telling you to leave.

so while i prayed over this sweet little old lady in a gold sari, ben and lazarus were praying for and wrestling with this girl... all the time holding a bucket under her face while she vomitted loudly. a little distracting.

thing was, this wasn't some cheesey, hollywood pea-soup-spitting, head spinning, voice from the crypt blaspheming scare-em all thing. it was just a simple person who needed the power of Jesus' blood to set her captive soul free.

amazing thing: the people in the room were not particularly thrown by this- it's church in the fast lane... expreme sports spirituality.
***
another amazing thing: i shared this story with a friend of mine back in canada, upon returning to the west. he replied "yeah, and isn't it sad that these people actually believe that this is really happening?"

i looked back at him and blinked. i said 'pardon?'

he said 'well, you know, they get sick and they immediately spiritualize it because they don't have the education of the medication to deal with it.'

i said 'i think it's sad that we don't believe it's happening.'
***

this is a war zone. there is no grey- the contrast is turned up to maximum and this army of God does battle with the armies of the snake (both hindu and buddhist) that occupy this land for the souls of the living and the dead.

in the west, we have become opiated to the point of denying the existence of resident evil. in the americas, our 'intellectual freedom' and our material affluence provide so much spiritual static that we no longer see any picture at all...

"we need more cowbell!"... great moments in missing the point.
***

o to be free to hear the voice of God amidst the static of the west once the roar of the surf and the afterglow of the worship have subsided.

dumb bear and the coconut squares

2005-08-13T23:06:00.000-07:00

august 13: day 4: saturday

at breakfast (something neat about eating pepper and mushroom omelettes and bananas while the surf roars in the backround and an old man rakes the beach) we learned that a sri lankan foreign minister was shot in colombo the night before. approximately a thousand troops were now in town, so traffic would probably be slowed up considerably...

we were to be picked up at 9:00a.m. but it was only 9:30 when our ride arrived to take us into colombo to repair the roof on the ministry centre which also serves as pastor lazarus' church... eustace had gone with lazarus the day before after lunch on the back of lazarus' motorcycle... with every turn eustace had prayed that they were finally there- it had been a wild ride.
***

the driving here is an art form unto itself! travel from negombo to colombo can take anywhere from twenty-five minutes to two hours...
***

our driver was pretty amazing. he and dan and ben and i grabbed some quick refreshments mid afternoon in a cafe that seemed to cater mostly to tourists. i tried to compliment him on his skill, but he didn't understand because that's just the way things are here.

an interesting thing to note was that, in this cafe, my orange juice cost more than almost every other beverage available. it would have been much cheaper to have just had a beer.
***

so we made our way through the busy streets in search of supplies. if this were a film, there would be some exotic sitar/tabla soundtrack going in the background. however, the soundtrack provided in reality was a symphony of car, van and auto (those three-wheel taxi things) horns against the musical ambience provided by the punjabi dj tunes grooving on the radio.

it's easy to lock into the slippery swing of this pop rhythm, as it simply recreates the meter of the spoken language here (particularly tamil) and the easy tempo of walking through the streets in this humidity and heat.

one song, apparently done for tsunami-relief, began with the car-horns in a manner reminiscent of money by pink floyd. i would spend the rest of my trip enquiring as to how to get a copy of the song to no avail.
***

there is no 'home depot' in colombo. between ordering lumber which had yet to be milled, purchasing aesbestos tile (yep, they still use it here) for the roof and buying a saw with an odd-sized blade not carried by any of the local suppliers to cut the stuff, we buzzed all over colombo in what felt like a fruitless and time-consuming search. i think that it was really getting to eustace, who was taking note of the passing of time, regarding it warily while calculating how many hours he had available to filfill his roofing mission before we headed to kabool lanka.

(eustace pores over his notes while the clock ticks)

yet we spent most of the morning and some of the afternoon chasing down materials to repair the massive holes in the roof. if people are worshiping and it rains, they have to run to the adjoining house... just a little disruptive unless you happen to be preaching about noah.

speaking of preaching, i was asked by pastor lazarus to preach on sunday, and as of saturday afternoon i still had no idea what to say or how to say it. the cultures are so different that it would've been easy to preach out of my culture shock... but that wouldn't do anything but elaborate upon our obvious differences rather than speak from God's word. no mildly clever analogies would bear any meaning because analogy is based upon logic and common experience...

and right now i feel strangely bereft of both...

i felt a lot like john dunbar in 'dances with wolves,' as it was impossible to communicate anything but the simplest of ideas... talking like an idiot, waving my hands around and drawing pictures.

dumb bear? definately.
***

dan and i got into an interesting conversation about how we frame our reality and how our picture or view is heavily affected by how we frame it. as westerners, we carry a lot of presumption into everything- relationships and so on- our ethnocentricity is troublesome, as it shuts us off from everyone we are to be opening ourselves to... we as westerners speak of 'developing countries' in terms of our own mostly economic categorizations.

in many ways, people of the east could very well think of the west as 'developing' for we are so logically linear, spiritually shallow, financially fixated and task oriented.

when you gonna wake up and strengthen the things that remain?
***

philip's perpetually smiling wife (lazarus' sister-in-law, the sister of his wife) brought me piping hot tea on this sweltering day... she also brought these amazing coconut things that looked like green rice-crispy squares, which she had baked in this heat.

so i'm thinking back to 'dances with wolves' and my feelings of inadequacy... we make things so complicated: the deepest things are communicated without words- a smile is offered, received and reciprocated; a gift of food and drink is offered with a generous smile and received with one both gracious and grateful.
***

good thing i didn't cheat and take a nap... there was a wedding reception taking place directly below so anyone who didn't need a full night's sleep probably didn't get one. the event put me in mind of the big party/wedding in bend it like beckham- that's how i described it to mrs jollybeggar and the boys the next day on the phone.

funny thing: wedding singers and their bands wear cheesey uniforms here too!
***

is ultimate heterogeny (when every culture contains aspects of every other culture) the new homogeny?

transcontinental time funk

2005-08-12T21:03:00.000-07:00

august 12: day 3: friday
at about 7:00 a.m. we touched down in colombo. the day was overcast and so i threw on the light windbreaker that i had in my carryon. the first thing we saw upon stepping out of the pressurized, air-conditioned plane into the dizzying humidity and surprising heat was a soldier holding a big gun. now, eventually we would grow accustomed to these guys (i would even holler out 'good morning' to them on my morning runs through negombo) but initially it was a bit real.

moving through the customs lines at the airport, we all produced our passports obediently (having all seen the guys with the guns) and were granted entrance without a hassle. ben, being sri lankan, was immediately called aside and treated differently. he took it all in stride- it was the first of many experiences along the trip that would cause me to marvel at the quality and character of this man. this was his element... i didn't know what ben was like in canada, but i was pretty impressed at how he seemed to be all things to all men here in sri lanka. over the course of our ten-day stay, he would act as tour guide, waiter, pastor, interpreter, teacher, advocate, missionary, counsellor and exorcist. i don't think he took many pictures, and i know he never drove one of the vans, but that was about it- he did everything else. ben was a blessing from start to finish. i grew to love and respect him dearly. (below, close left)

dan (close right- remember him from the shania shot?) suggested that we do any moneychanging right at the airport because we'd get as good a deal there as anywhere else and it was convenient to boot. he also advised us not to talk to strangers (although in not so many words) or allow anyone to help us with our bags because they would then expect money for the service rendered. sure, whatever.

as i approached one young money changer, he said "aah- pink floyd... another brick in the wall!" apparently this was the right shirt to wear if you wanted to strike a familiar chord with people all over the world.

anyway, after loading all of our stuff into this little van and then squashing ourselves in at the end, the ride from the airport in colombo to the hotel in negombo was our first experience with sri lankan drivers. many comments and shrieks were made...

***

after taking a shower, the only way to stay awake was to keep moving, so i went out to the beach. as i sat (so much for keeping moving) facing north with the salty wind in my face and the equatorial sun on my back, i wondered if mrs jollybeggar was asleep yet. it was, after all, 11:00 and there was a perfect 12-hour time difference... rather convenient for deciding when to phone home and all that.

i spoke quite at length with an incredibly cool surf instructor named chris. he had shop set up in a handmade bamboo and grass hut ... he claimed his first hut was far superior, but that it had been washed away by the afterwaves of the tsunami in december. even though negombo is basically on the western side of the island, the swells caused by the tsunami even reached this beach about an hour and a half after the main waves hit the eastern shores. chris kept trying to talk me into surfing, but i insisted that: a) i didn't have any real cash anyway, and b) i wasn't actually here to holiday. chris was easy to like- he had this wanderlusty nomad thing that had taken him all over the world... one of those people that works in an area just long enough to buy a ticket to somewhere else- like jack dawson in titanic.

i was approached by peddlars until eventually i decided to head back to the hotel and take my chances being in the same building as the sandman- maybe just a little nap...

hotel? the big blue thing above the bed is a mosquito net that unpacks much like a parachute. imagine the worst place you've ever stayed, multiply it by ten and then subtract everything creepy- what you're left with is simple charm based on something other than creature comforts... and an incredible view of chris' grass hut on the beach.

pastor lazarus from the church in colombo could be mark twain's long lost sri lankan grandson... looked just like the guy, only with a tan. sometime in the afternoon, lazarus joined us for lunch. he was always smiling and always nodding, but spoke very little english.

i found it amazing that dan was able to seemingly communicate with so many of the people here so well. somehow, he's learned to speak 'broken, bit-phrase english' in a way that allows his main ideas to be communicated without any of the decorative clutter that creates a bottleneck in the conversation and impedes the impact of non-verbal gestures, facial expressions and the like. this is a skill i have to learn- it's obvious.
***

as i walked the streets in my transcontinental time funk, i noticed that the air on the street was laced with a common smell that was probably a spice or something. it was everywhere here, but i had first noticed it upon stepping into the plane back at heathrow.
***

after a huge supper of curried chicken and fish with rice, we walked down the dimly lit street, peering into shops full of buffalo leather and hindu masks. shopkeepers sat outside, talking or observing quietly. "hello" and a smile. most evening shopkeepers were young men appearing to be late teens or early twenties.
***

we drank a lot of sprite. with the heavy humidity and heat relentlessly sucking away at our western energy reserves after jet-lag had taken its tithe, something cold and fresh was really nice. the lemon-lime thing worked much better- couldn't even imagine drinking a coke.
***

i bought some necklaces for poet, warlord and myself. i probably paid (a bit) too much but the manner and humour of the peddlar- manel fernando, single mother of two boys (as per some photographs) was so easy and warm that i didn't mind... and they were still a way better deal than ardene, and bought on the beach on my first day in sri lanka.

tomorrow we would get down to work.

we are sri lankan

2005-08-11T23:34:00.000-07:00

august 11: day 2: thursday (continued)

sri lankan airlines (http://www.winne.com/srilanka/to08.html) was amazing...

winner of 'best asian international airline' for the last five years, apparently. the flight attendants wore, as a 'uniform,' a green sari that was decorated to look like the feathers of a peacock. they were beautiful and courteous, but not in a western way: they smiled a lot but never paid western lip-services like 'excuse me' or anything like that. they were very focused on task (smiling all the way) but perhaps limited english and vastly different world views come off as a bit 'impolite.' whatever the case, they were extremely efficient and powerfully positive first ambassadors for their country for strangers of limited experience like myself.

the inflight entertainment consisted of eighteen channels of programming that cycled through a movie-length loop. i viewed hitch-hiker's guide to the galaxy three separate times (the sri lankan leg of the trip was eleven hours in the air, as compared to the atlantic crossing which was only seven) taking notes on different sections for the talk i would be doing on august 28th upon returning to canada... i wanted to hook on the quote "it's a tough universe out there and if you want to survive, you've really got to know where your towel is" and then compare the douglas adams towel to the presence of God on a missions trip. well, whatever the case, i eventually had notes on the whole film.

when sleep is offered in the air, you accept it; so i kept letting myself fall asleep because i knew that it would minimize jetlag upon arrival in colombo.

we are sri lankan is a tsunami-relief benefit song featuring sri lankan musicians. it sounded a lot like that old 70's(?) song the games people play and looked (on video) like usa for africa's we are the world. cheesey and smug western observation: it was a lot better than i thought it would be. i continued to grow with almost every experience, cultural and otherwise in preparation for both the time i would spend in sri lanka and the time i would return home to tell of it. culture shocks in both directions.

one of the tv channels of programming was an ongoing flight progress report- like in those old movies when you see the plane flying across a map with dotted lines charting its course. it showed, at any given time in the journey, where we were in relation to our destination. over germany. over greece, over iraq. there were also cameras mounted which had their own channels- one on the nose of the plane and one facing straight down. it was amazing- on the return trip which took place during the day as opposed to in the black of night like this one- to be able to actually see these places directly below us. to be able to see the differences in vegetation, soil colour etc between germany and greece and iraq etc. 'seeing the world' literally from above.

on our descent into colombo, i was amazed at how i could be sitting here in a plane watching the sun rise over the indian ocean. on the clock, forty seven hours had passed... in real time i think it was about thirty five, but i didn't bother to calculate it for sure.

region of the musical titans

2005-08-11T07:37:00.000-07:00

august 11: day 2: thursday
(note: some rather subjective observations of the uk from this jolly canadian beggar who has never been off of his terra ferma... next post will hopefully be more interesting than reading some guy's travel log- we all know how often we tune into those types of channels on cable tv when we could be watching simpsons)

from the sky, ireland looked like batik, having straight-lined shapes of greens and browns divided by dark borders. the coastline was pretty with softly sweeping jagged edges like those of a broken piece of pottery... like someone had placed dots on a piece of paper and then joined them arbitrarily with curved rather than straight lines.

i found this approach to london really exciting... this is the region of the musical titans- dublin, manchester, liverpool, london. it seems like almost anybody who was anybody came from here. interesting that such a small little country could be the birthplace of so many powerfully influencial western bands.

apparently it's a sunny day in england. what are the odds?

i tried to figure out what this very big, but rather brownish river with two suspension bridges on it was... where were we? someone said north wales. many shades of green ranging from nearly black to nearly yellow.

i watched one large motorhome or bus making its way alone through a very dense forest- no one else on the road. i thought about God and timelines.

on the video screens were travel images (mostly of england, but also more 'eastern' architecture etc- could also be london, i suppose) supported by a dreamy, delay-informed soundtrack... eno/sylvian/eastern voice, ambient-house, lava lamp and bead-curtain kinda thing.

london looked very much like terry gilliam portrays it in time bandits- rows of identical houses.

i saw the thames, which is where mccartney's london town cover was photographed, i think... a rather dirty river by canadian standards.

i did NOT see london bridge, nor did i see buckingham palace or big ben or wembley. however, we rolled right past the concord on landing. it rarely flies anymore- too noisy and too pricey- it was an eighties thing.

you know, it occurs to me that in 1985 when the whole live aid thing went down, they could have given all the money that it took to fly phil collins by concord from london to philadelphia and given it for famine relief if they really wanted to. oh, there's always somebody being a sceptic!

(at the end on our approach to heathrow, the video started running the departure information rather than the deplaning info... figures- good ol, fun-loving air canada!)

we sat around at heathrow for three or four hours waiting for something to happen, but nothing did except for a couple of photo-ops of sleeping team members.

leaving toronto is apparently harder

2005-08-10T23:04:00.000-07:00

august 10: day 1: wednesday (continued)
while sitting in a restaurant at pearson, i began talking to a quiet young guy and his outspoken sister. for my part, i shared my mission and a bunch of familiy stuff, travel stuff etc... they are going on a family holiday to hitch-hike across europe... their fifty year-old mom is also part of the gig- cool.

i sure find younger people easier to talk with.
***
eventually i hooked up with dan after having a very dry pizza and two wet ricks over the course of about three hours' wait outside the actual terminal. riel had given me a guest pass to the maple leaf lounge at pearson airport, terminal A, but because the lounge is inside the terminal, i was required to have my boarding pass which eventually arrived when dan did at about 5:00. luckily there was this restaurant and an interesting pair of canadian soon-to-be hitch-hikers-through-europe to talk to.

dan's ticket had been cancelled somehow (turned out that everyone's but mine had been. the hassles attached to the original booking of the tickets would plague us all the way to heathrow on the return...)
***

note: look very closely at person in the cap to dan's right... camera comes out- hand goes up.
kinda funny that the guy next to her doesn't know who he is seated beside...

hassles in the ridiculously long qeue were forgotten when we spotted shania twain (actually there was not much spotting involved- she was in line beside dan, travelling as mrs lang) wearing a bright red ball cap. risking looking (and behaving) like paparazzi stalkers, we worked up and executed a plan whereby we fired off a picture with her in the background... covering her face. amazing that a person will work so hard for recognition and then spend the rest of his or her life trying to escape it. she lives in zurich, switzerland now to avoid crowds and is smaller than she looks in pictures and on t.v... however, dan said that she had a special glow, nonetheless.
***
a word or two about dan, as observed and noted by his relatively new friend, jollybeggar:
dan is the global ministries guy for the free methodist church in canada. having grown up in a home that often billeted missionaries on furlough (if there can be such a thing... they were either working abroad or touring the country to sequester support for the work that was to be done abroad) he had seen again and again what accepting the call of God to one's life could entail. for this reason, he didn't sign on the dotted line with God until he was prepared to do so for real.

acceptance of God's offer did, in fact, take him exactly where he imagined it would. he's been all over the world and is one of the most culturally sensitive people i've ever met... almost to the extent that he has become transcultured, occasionally caught between cultures speaking everyone's and no-one's language simultaneously.

one of the most interesting things about my friend is his quiet lack of direction. oh, he knows exactly where he is going and what needs to be done, having planned to the nth degree at least five to ten steps ahead of the present. i say 'lack of direction' in terms of how he sometimes directs (but never misdirects) others. as far as i can tell, it works like this:

it all comes down to what you need or want from an experience. if you think to ask for direction or guidance, he is a deep well of both. however, if you don't ask, the presumption is made that you either already know these things, or will learn them in the course of the cross-cultural experience. either way, in the end you will have the weapons in your arsenal to deal with similar circumstances in the future.

he is, of course, not doing the passive-agressive 'well you didn't ask' thing, for he's always got your back. no, i think it's just that he really values and respects the wisdom that comes with being in charge of one's own growth and learning.

for someone like me who tends to process everything out loud, someone like dan enables someone like me to do so in the context of a supportive relationship condusive to self-directed learning. traveling with this guy was awesome, and i really missed him when, later on in the trip, he left the team for a number of days to 'kill two birds yada yada' by heading off to bangkok to do some business there while 'in the neighbourhood.'

however, i must also say that you do wonder from time to time just what he is thinking and why he is smiling right now...
***

in the plane, there were all these hilarious london teens traveling together. listening to them was just totally entertaining (although it did get a bit old as the flight wore on.) they spotted my pink floyd t-shirt: "PINK FLOYD RULES! i've got a limited edition dark side of the moon in pristine condition! it's even got both posters and both stickers- it cost me $30 canadian- yer wanna see it? i've also go night at the opera by queen in its original white- not the black that's easy to get!" (not exactly an audiofile, but good company. i didn't have the heart to correct him on the night at the opera/ day at the races mixup... why bother?)

we left for heathrow totally late, having had to remove "sammy u-something's" unattended luggage from the plane before departure.

a pile of really funny announcements and apologies concerning bad weather and terminal hassles were reminiscent of flying westjet with one simple difference: these blundering explanations were for real. something about somebody parking a plane in the wrong parking spot...
***

finally leaving sometime between 11 and 11:30 p.m., we crossed the atlantic at approximately 56 degrees north. we were told we'd be flying over ireland, manchester, liverpool and london.

the departure video had a whole pile of tech glitches and eventually the flight attendants had to present the departure information the old way- it was clear that they were out of practice: one girl basically did all the demonstrating while another thumped through the reading of the material and a third just stood there looking pretty, but awkward.

leaving home ain't easy

2005-08-10T22:28:00.000-07:00

august 10: day 1: wednesday
i went to bed at 12:30 a.m.- awoke at 1:30 a.m.... couldn't sleep (probably the malaria meds that i had taken for the first time earlier that evening)

*now that was smart- i watched unbreakable with mrs jollybeggar and the boys, then worried about 'mr glass-type' mishaps... had been thinking about death a lot lately anyway.

so i got up at about 1:45 and blogged (see previous post 'funny'), hoping that i'd grow tired- about 3:15 i tried bed again- noise outside the window made it impossible to sleep... i felt like 'bert' on that ancient sesame street vignette.

got up again- this time i went searching for discipleship materials for my talk at the pastors' retreat in kabool lanka... ate a couple bowls of cereal and finally got back to bed and to sleep around 3:45.

the alarm went off, as planned, at 5:15 a.m.
***

sTeve called while we were hanging at the airport. brett dropped by the night before. i carried with me a list of all of the people who had partnered up with me for this mission... i thought that it would be a good idea to buy them a little token or something to acknowledge their partnership in this ministry experience... i mean, schuller and the gang do it all the time: a donation of $20 will get you a polyester prayer handkerchief or whatever, right?

in any event, i was keenly aware of how many people's money and prayers were accompanying me as i checked in my bag. the one thing missing from my carryon baggage was a picture of my family... i wasn't taking a big wallet or anything and so i didn't have any photos. i pulled out the digital and snapped off an amazing shot of mrs jollybeggar, poet and warlord. little did i know that i would probably gaze upon this airport image over a hundred times on the trip, as well as sharing it with the new friends i would make in sri lanka who would inevitably ask about my family and all that.
***

what a suck! after saying goodbye and i love you and so on, mrs jollybeggar and the boys stood on the stairs waving at me as i checked my carryon and jacket... the sight of them messed me up, so i went to the washroom for a completely unexpected and unexplained cry. i realized that, in the last twenty years i haven't been away from any of them for this long- not even mrs jolly.

when you leave, the wait until you see your beloved again is the longest at the very beginning- that's why it hurts so much.
***

so we took off and i sat gazing out my left hand window at the shadow of the plane on the ground. as we rose, the swiftly moving, plane-shaped blotch on the ground shrank before my very eyes. i realized that it was not shrinking (in fact, it may have even bee minutely growing. we were, after all, moving ever slightly closer to the light source) but that i was just pulling further and further away from it.

the third year med-school student to my right was reading porn as she returned home to winnipeg, having been studying medicine in calgary. winnipeg... nice place to be from. i prayed blessing upon her life and relationships (couldn't hurt) after spending most of the flight judging her, keeping the copy of 'leadership journal' open on my lap with john ortberg expounding upon the importance of spiritual formations and small groups...

yep, so here i am, the big missionary man, incapable of sitting next to a westerner on the plane without presuming things about her education, background and virtue based on something as external as the choice of reading material. i wonder if the road goes both ways: did everyday people judge pharisees for being such self-righteous assholes?
***
i had a doughnut at the terminal tim's while watching disembarking passangers file by (all the while taking note of those with significant hairloss- geez strike two!)
***
winnipeg>toronto... about halfway there (having had a little sleep finally) i woke up with horrible gas pains. oh what i'd have done for a safe place to fart! this girl and her mother in my row were going to glasgow- mom had been in canada for fifty years... they were nice people and i didn't want to kill them so i just hoped it would all pass.

on our descent to toronto through some lumpy air and a lama-face cloud, i happened to look on the wing outside my window... reading the message: "do not walk outside this area" printed on the wing itself.

good advice for travellers seeking survival tips for the journey.

epic

2005-08-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

here are the blogs that were rolling along, chronicling the faith/decision-making process as i tried to figure out what to do with a phonecall from God... aren't all conversations with God epic?:

-->post: "at a table for three"
*note: originally posted on april 27, 2005 by jollybeggar on northVUs*

"scientist, poets, painters and writers are all members of the same family of people whose gift it is by nature to take those things which we call commonplace and re-present them to us in such ways that our self-imposed limitations are expanded...

the wu li master dances with his student. the wu li master does not teach, but the student learns. the wu li master always begins at the centre, at the heart of the matter."
(gary zukav- the dancing wu li masters)

life is a dance toward God
(don miller- prayer and the art of volkswagen maintenance)

i just got back from breakfast with a wild-eyed missionary friend who is in his tent-making phase before launching into another six-months of God-busy which will take him from june until Christmas. although i did not feel that there was a human agenda being brought to the table, it became very clear that today was one of those 'you and me at a table for three' moments because God pulled up a chair.

i kinda wonder what Jesus would have been like to have breakfast with, because often when God pulls up a chair strange things start happening to the conversation.

anyway, before i get to that, i need to share something that i read on the same day as my eventful breakfast, posted by a sincerely insane friend of mine that i've always called 'bignose' since we watched monty python's life of brian together. why share it rather than link it? just because i know how many links i click on...
***
from grantley morris:
Our Leader's behavior shocked the religious establishment.

Christ partied with crooks, drunks and sluts. A prostitute kissed his feet. He did things on the Sabbath he wasn't supposed to. He insulted dignitaries, calling them vipers, blind fools, whitewashed tombs and other endearing names.

Those closest to him usually had no idea what he was talking about - he's warning them about the Pharisees and they think he's complaining about leaving the bread behind - but to those outside his inner circle, Christ wasn't nearly so intelligible.

He was acknowledged by demons and rejected by theologians.

He spoke to a fever, a tree, even a storm.

Before long, Jesus' sanity was called into question and at one stage his family came to take charge of him. He was forever messing up funerals, wrecking beggars' only source of income - their infirmities - and outraging religious leaders.

He made goo with spit and smeared it on a beggar's eyes. He stuck his fingers in a man's ears, spat, and grabbed the man's tongue.

How many churches would tolerate such ludicrous behavior? He took a short-cut across the lake - without a boat. He sent two thousand swine hurtling to their death. He physically assaulted temple workers.

No one - whether friends, family, admirers; devout, legalistic or lax - could agree with him for long.

Where are the creative, madcap warriors today? Are we patterning ourselves after a bunch of straight laced marshmallows who repel the creative and outlandish?
***

we were talking pleasantly when the nature of our conversation suddenly changed from to regular to revolutionary. the following ideas poured into my ears and then back out onto the paper through the mechanical pencil clutched in my soft middle class hand.

"the congregation uses leaders as an excuse to NOT do, to NOT give, to NOT..."

"as a church, why don't we do something in the world? why don't we step out of the land of ideas?"

"be able to challenge people from a deeper place to a deeper place..."

i believe that i was in the presence of a wu li master- one who has mastered the patterns of organic energy. dancing by my side, my friend invited me into a place that i had been before, only this time i was here inside out, and therefore my insides were able to take note of what God was saying without all the self-imposed limitations that my outsides tend to impose.

now i have to decide what to do with the learning.

--->post: "metallica, monty, napoleon and ozzy"
*note: originally posted may 4, 2005 by jollybeggar on northVUs*

...and with dust in throat I crave
only knowledge will I save
to the game you stay a slave
rover wanderer
nomad vagabond
call me what you will

but I'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll redefine anywhere
anywhere I may roam
where I lay my head is home
(wherever i may roam- hetfield/metallica, '91)

as i walked in the sun this morning i was thinking about freedom.

freedom is one of those things that we cherish, although our limited experience with big picture perspective and life in general renders our understanding of it a bit shallow.

one of the things that results in a knee-deep comprehension of what it means to be free is the preoccupation with ourselves. as navel-gazers, we fixate upon the things that we value and fight for our freedom to continue to enjoy them, good or bad- it's just the way we are as a species. by our fallen nature, we are habitual and therefore arrested in our ability to see beyond where we are and what we are unhappy with far enough to embrace the mind of God.

to make it worse, the pious ones that are earnest in their pursuit of personal holiness and the realization of God's will for them can be so fearfully preoccupied with themselves that they continually do all this faithless back-peddling whenever their prayers come close to approximating the kind of conversation which touches the heart of God.

at least it is that way with me-
pious or pompous (depends on the day, really.)

'if it is your will...'
'if it will bring you honour'
'if you see fit to grant...'
'if it pleases you...'

these phrases ring through our prayers like verbal shock absorbers, putting big fluffy mittens on hands that are called to action and big fluffy scarves over lips that were made to speak truth. it's as if we are so careful to not speak our own(?) ideas for fear of somehow being selfish or pushy that we become intollerably (and vainly) vague when we speak with God.

this must drive God crazy.

'just spit it out!' he probably longs to thunder from the heavens. if God wasn't so loving and patient he would no doubt become that brusque king in the clouds portrayed in monty python and the holy grail: (www.intriguing.com/mp/_scripts/grail.asp )

GOD: Arthur! Arthur, King of the Britons! Oh, don't grovel! One thing I can't stand, it's people groveling.
ARTHUR: Sorry.
GOD: And don't apologize. Every time I try to talk to someone it's 'sorry this' and 'forgive me that' and 'I'm not worthy'. What are you doing now?!
ARTHUR: I'm averting my eyes, O Lord.
GOD: Well, don't...

i mean, reverence is one thing, but this is like we apologize for even trying to exercise the freedom of relationship that Jesus died to set up between us. israel's king david, called a man after God's own heart, was painfully honest in his prayers, many of which were published in the hebrew hymnal called psalms. the prophets of the old testament communicated the messages of God to an unbelieving or spiritually aloof people through harsh words and wild actions, unencumbered by whether this was going too far or that was too seeker-hostile.

but many of us know all of this already, yet continue to live lives, not of quiet desperation but of cautious distemper- so afraid are we of either negatively affecting the sensibilities of God or making God look bad in the eyes of the people with whom we come in contact.

so we default on our freedom to be used of God to somehow change the world for the better.

the idea that arrived in my head this morning, walking in the sun, was that ultimately freedom doesn't mean simply quoting napoleon dynamite and saying "i'll do whatever i WANT- geez!" (which is, in essence, where the lyrics of 'wherever i may roam' by metallica take me) in our heart and in our actions, if not in our words. it means being of the mind of God, free of all the distractions that bog us down to the point where we are simply existing in a cage built of our own misconceptions and fears, masquerading as convictions and concern for others.

it means knowing that God's ideas have become ours... not simply holding to some super-spiritual claim that our ideas are God's.

oswald chambers put it this way
(i read this after having my epiphanal walk)
'we do not identify with God's interests in others, we get petulant with God; we are always ready with our own ideas, and intercession becomes the glorification of our own natural sympathies... vicarious intercession means that we deliberately substitute God's in others for our natural sympathy with them..."

i think that true spiritual freedom comes when we can actually hear the voice of God and be secure enough in our relationship with him that we recognize what he is saying and are eager to carry out the plans that he is sharing with us because we know that our ultimate happiness and complete self-actualization lies in doing that for which we were created...

it doesn't mean not having free will, it means being free enough of all the external crap that we can use the will as a holy fire which drives us to see the world draw closer to what God desired for all of us when he placed us in the garden all those years ago.

--->post: "barney rubble"
*note: originally posted on may 26 , 2005 by jollybeggar on northVUs*

"unless God specifically tells you to stay, then he's already told you to go."
(keith green)
***
it all started with this picture depicting a man sitting amidst tsunami rubble, crying out to God for help... i realized that the help he was begging God for was to come from the western world: from us- no, that's too general... from me.

there are two ways to listen for the voice of God:

one- goes about trying to discern the will of God in a given situation by looking for an answer from God: a ‘yes’ from him. that is the most common. that is how I’ve been listening until now.

the other- the alternative, if you will- goes about the same task by listening for what God doesn’t say… it is essentially listening for a ‘no’ from God. if there is no 'no', then the ‘yes’ already exists in the form of the great commission and the newly-stirred heart.

five years ago, as i sat under a tree at university of waterloo where i was attending a worship conference, i experienced some 'automatic writing' as the spirit of God took hold of my hand while i was journalling:

now that you’ve heard me say ‘I love you’
I want you to let go of everything
now that you’ve heard me say ‘just trust me’
just leave me with your fear and begin again

there’s nothing you can do
there’s nothing you need to say
there’s nowhere left to run so don’t hide yourself away
I will just find you again

just take me at my word
I told you you could lean on me
I’ve set my people free
but you must lead them from captivity

and I will go with you…

to this day i find these words impossible to argue with, whether it means going across the street or across the world.

--->post: "uncommon sense"
*note: originally posted on may 31, 2005 by jollybeggar on northVUs*

He who always hopes for the best becomes old, deceived by life, and he who is always prepared for the worst becomes old prematurely; be he who has faith retains eternal youth.

Oswald Chambers said:
Supposing God tells you to do something which is an enormous test to your common sense. What are you going to do? Hang back?
...Jesus Christ demands of the man who trusts him the same reckless sporting spirit that the natural man exhibits. If a man is going to do anything worthwhile, there are times when he has to risk everything on his leap, and in the spiritual domain Jesus Christ demands that you risk everything you hold by common sense and leap into what he says... At the bar of common sense Jesus Christ's statements may seem mad; but bring them to the bar of faith and you begin to find with awestruck spirit that they are the words of God.
***

here's what i read here: faith is not common sensical. in fact, one could even say that faith is an 'uncommon sense' or a sixth sense, if you will. it is something that defies other senses while qualifying them. it is the 'third eye' that somehow sees beyond the physical and into the spiritual realm- a bridge from concrete and temporal to abstract and eternal.

when we act upon the things that we perceive through our faith, we are engaging in the work of God- the stuff for which we were called into eternal existence in the first place. as we try to outrun father time, could it be that we are losing that footrace because we are breaking the number one rule... looking at your oponent rather than the track and the finish line in the distance? perhaps eternal youthfulness is found in embracing the eternal at the expense of the temporal. just living the adventure rather than calculating whether the next one carries with it only reasonable and manageable risks?

since when is adventure reasonable? it occurs to me that living by faith takes one to the very edge of the chasm and then invites one more step... whether you die or fly depends entirely upon that in which you have placed your faith.

---> post: "gun shy"
*note: originally posted on june 2, 2005 by jollybeggar on northVUs*

i was talking with an older friend of mine whom i admire greatly. we always seem to bump into each other when i am in the middle of a new adventure, and so i always sound like i lead a more interesting life than i really do. our little secret...

anyway, i was sharing with him this odyssey that has been upon me over the last month or so.

the idea of missions trips has always been out there and it's always been, in my narrow personal view, somebody else's job (in sad spite of what Jesus says in matthew 28 about 'going out into all the world.') however, of late there has been something stirring that takes me into unfamiliar territory. i have found myself thinking 'missionally,' realizing that missions doesn't necessarily mean going to 'bongobongoland' (a favourite term used by another friend of mine who has made global ministries his lifeswork) to read the bible to people with bones through their noses while dodging their poisoned arrows. it seems to me that being missional simply means accepting a mission.

so when i was sharing this with my friend, he made me his unwitting confessor:
'i used to go hard after everything, but now i'm just too lazy. nothing gets past thinking about it...'

this stuck because of all the thought i've been entertaining on moving outside the land of ideas

'... but you, man. you're actually pulling the trigger.'

no, i'm not pulling the trigger. i think i'm just one of the bullets in the gun.
***
then i heard the voice of the Lord saying, 'whom shall i send? and who will go for us?'
and i said 'here am i, send me!' (isaiah 6.8)

---> post: "adventure"
*note: originally posted on july 4, 2005 by jollybeggar on northVUs

here's a (modified) letter that i have been distributing to my friends and potential partners in ministry. there have been little hints and things on this blog since may that God was up to something in my heart. i just thought that i'd post this for your consideration (NOT as a solicitation- please don't get the wrong idea!)

if you pray, join me in praying for this 'adventure.'
if you don't pray, but are wondering what this is all about, feel free to either leave comments below or email me at jollybegger64@hotmail.com

in any event, this is what's going on!
***

God has been moving within my heart in the last while. Whether you know me well or not-so-well, you probably already know that my heart’s desire has always been to lead others, both familiar and unfamiliar into life-changing encounters with God through music, the spoken word and God-honouring relationships. Recently God has called me into a new interpretation of this personal mission, as he has invited me to faithfully follow him overseas to facilitate relationships between the local church in Canada and the local church in Sri Lanka for August 10-22, 2005.

Growing up in the Free Methodist church, I believe that I have probably heard at least one thousand missionary presentations over the years. However, until now I have always felt that God was aiming them at someone else. While meeting informally with a friend in early May of this year, however, God spoke to me about a mission that he had for me to fulfill. My role in this project is essentially to blaze a trail towards the adventures that God is setting up for Canadian Free Methodists from local churches to become involved in Sri Lanka and the world. Although I was pretty sure that God had the wrong guy, it became apparent through numerous affirming prayer times, readings of the bible and conversations with others that God was serious about calling me.

I am excited about this adventure because it invites me to apply more directly the instruction of Jesus found in Acts 1.8 to my own life. Although I deeply believe that God has in no way concluded his work through me here in Canada, I also believe that he is making it clear how I can bear witness to the life-changing work of God ‘to the ends of the earth.’ This trip is an ‘Exploratory Visit’- part of the Free Methodist Church in Canada’s process for local churches to become involved in a Gateway City outreach. The primary objective is learning and building relationships, but I have been asked by the Global Ministries coordinator for the Free Methodist Church in Canada to be prepared to ‘preach, pray or die (with hopefully a couple minutes notice!)’ Although he was joking about the last one, I don’t need to tell you how I covet your prayers in this time.

There are numerous ways that you can join me in this adventure- the first has already been mentioned: fervent prayer. As we seek to glorify God in all things, he often requires us to serve out of our weakness, or at least out of our comfort zones! Please pray for health, peace, and spiritual protection for me and the other members of our team, even in the weeks leading up to the trip of August 10-22, 2005.

The second way to join me and my church in this adventure is to help with the costs. The cost of this trip will be approximately $2500. This will mainly cover my airfare and transportation costs- living expenses will be approximately $300. I know that God is faithful and He will provide what is needed for me to go. Any financial aid, great or small, that you can provide for this trip will be gratefully accepted because it all adds up. My church is authorized to provide tax-deductable receipts for any financial gift.

Thank you for taking time to prayerfully consider how to take part in this adventure that will take us to the ends of the earth.

Shalom

---> post: "paranoia and our strange little world"
*note: originally posted on july 15, 2005 by jollybeggar on northVUs*

But that's how religion is spread, through paranoia....
paranoia and the sword.

It's a strange, strange little world.............bigbro

my world is about to expand drastically, as i will be travelling to sri lanka to do some missions work there in august. even now my arms hurt from the assorted immunization measures that i have undertaken in preparation.

funny thing, though. a younger friend of mine who recognized his call to world missions earlier and has done this a lot already was telling me that fear would masquerade as reason, and that i would become nervous about various things pertaining to the 'stepping outside of my tidy little canadian box.' as i sat the other day at the travel doctor, watching a video underscoring the health risks and possible maltreatments of them in third world (?) countries, i began to grow fearful, imagining all sorts of elaborate scenarios and asking myself 'is this really gonna be worth it?'

then came clarity: Jesus stepped into and back out of death and the grave for me, yet my greatest fears can be lain to rest by some responsible premedication and some good bug spray.

anyway, i say all this to say that paranoia is not a God thing, although sometimes people misinterpret it as something else attributable to God or whatever. when the bible talks about fear (isaiah 8.11-15, for example) it is in the sense of acknowledging the sovereignty and power of God... not cowering before the 'almighty smiter' (ie 'bruce almighty'- how do you suppose that word is spelt in the script?)

in my case, paranoia was being 'applied' to waylay the spreading of the news that God loves people in the east and wants to express that love (in one sense) through the efforts of people from the west to bring aid and resource, not spread religion.

i guess there is always the gorge of eternal peril that exists between one person's faith and another person's spin on 'religion.'

perhaps the peril lies in the idea that faith and religion are the same thing, for who in their right mind would choose religion the way they picture it before experiencing faith?

--->post: "funny"
*note: originally posted on august 9, 2005 by jollybeggar on both northVUs and jollybeggar e-pistles*

funny how God works sometimes...

when i enroled in bible school during the fall of '83, i thought that i was basically signing on for a year of camp- that and the hope of meeting other musicians withwhom i would launch my big recording career. not exactly the best reasons to go, but whatever.

i remember telling my girlfriend at the time to quit fretting because it's not like i was going off to find a wife or something.

we never kissed again.

in fact, i was basically dead wrong on all counts. funny how God works sometimes.

yet, after a year and a half of it with limited academic success i realized that, although i had met a beautiful girl and fallen in love, i was not going to be a preacher or a missionary or a youth pastor and so any further time there would be wasted. i enroled in university in the faculty of education and got on with life. married in 85 and graduated in 88... been married and teaching ever since.

funny how God works sometimes.

about five years ago, God said 'okay, you've had your fun- now let's try this again.' i found myself once again taking classes and asking myself 'if God were to call you here, could you move here?' on holidays. mrs jollybeggar was thinking the same things at the same time.

this and that happened and today i sit in my office at the church, reflecting upon having just finished doing the youth pastor thing at a camp, and suffering a bit of anxiety on the eve of a missionary trip to sri lanka. the only real bummer on this one is that mrs jollybeggar won't be able to accompany me on this trip. however, i know that there will be others...

funny how God works sometimes.

prologue

2005-04-27T03:32:00.000-07:00

really, my reasons for this blog are selfish ones.

on december 26, 2004, a tsunami tore across the indian ocean, devastating everything on the shorelines of countries in its path... with virtually no warning, the coasts of indonesia and sri lanka in particular were lain to waist by two massive waves in a period of about 37 seconds. thousands upon thousands of lives were lost along with billions of dollars worth of property.

in canada, i was slated to preach on the sunday that followed. i had a nice "new year's" message about something... the details of it are long gone now. as i was praying, God spoke to me...

i know that this always sounds odd- i read these words in a hotel in kabool lanka, sri lanka, eight months later:

one of my favorite characters in 'braveheart' was the irish guy who joined william wallace in his crusade. remember him, the crazy guy who talked to God? appropriately his name was stephen. his most memorable quote was this: "the Almighty says this must be a fashionable fight. it draws the finest people." of course, any civilized christian knows he's crazy. every devout believer- in fact, any person of faith from any religious persuasion, whether christian, muslim, buddhist, hindu, or whatever- believes in prayer, but we all know prayer is supposed to be us talking to God. we get a little nervous when someone starts hearing from God. what has the Almighty been saying to you lately? (erwin raphael mcmanus- the barbarian way)

so anyway, he said:
"do you really want to deliver this message, or do you want to actually address the urgent?"

i knew what he meant- we all knew what he meant. the urgent was the need that existed as a result of this incredible natural disaster. the urgent was something tangible. the urgent was something immediate. clearly, the message i was prepared to deliver on january 2nd could wait until next year...

on that sunday, we looked at a conceptual circle of faithfulness:

james 1.22-25... faith without works is dead
1 corinthians 13.1-2... works without love are empty
1 timothy 1.4-6... love without faith is of no eternal consequence

and God moved. in the wake of an overindulgent western Christmas yet in response to a prompting from God, the people in our smallish church, having already taken up an offering that day, gave 2/3 that amount again to tsunami aid.

and something took hold of my soul. an embracing, if you will, of what it means to be part of something bigger than your own locally circumstancial bubble. it was a great place to start... for me it was my first step out of the land of ideas and into the real world.

***

four months later, on wednesday, april 27, 2005, i was having breakfast with a friend who does missions work regularly. he asked me a simple question: 'i know what we believe, but what do we actually do?'

my first answers were predictably programmy. however, with deeper prodding, i was bumped out of the place where i had lived my whole life, presuming that global ministries were someone else's calling. here, it appeared, was a call from God to get involved. my comfort zone would never be the same, for my changlessness and my lack of faithfulness to live beyond my means and therefore according to God's grace and provision was now a place of great discomfort. the idea just would not go away, because God had packaged it in the words of my friend so that it would get in...

what i heard my friend say was: until the leaders of our church do something other than sunday, the people of the church will continue to hide behind them.

i don't know how many leaders you know, but none of the ones i know are particularly interested in a tidy status quo. we all want to be instruments of positive change, yeah?

through a series of emails with different people including my father, a pile of praying, and some really good late night coffees, i eventually figured out that God was calling me to do something radically different than anything i would have ever dreamt up on my own.

this blog is one of the means by which i am trying to keep that experience alive in my own heart and life, for it has now been well over a month since i left for sri lanka, and just under a month since i returned. i still gaze fondly at all of the pictures, drink ginger beer, bunch my food, listen to punjabi dj tunes, play my dolkie and wear my sarhe (around the house only because in canada it is still really uncommon for a man to wear a wraparound skirt thingie) and speak way too much of the differences between the east and the west.

yet there is a sense that it is all going to slip away into the annals of my personal history, a single (albeit exotic) chapter in an otherwise average north american walk with Jesus. that's where the whole 'selfish reasons' idea comes from. i just don't want the colours of the memories to fade, so i am typing out the journals from the trip, not so much to live in the past as to simply keep this past alive.

poitu varam is tamil for 'go and return again soon.' although it probably initially meant to take this little exploratory trip to another land to see how God might use me and my canadian church friends there, i heard it first as i got into a van in colombo. my sri lankan friend lazarus was simply saying 'we'll see you tomorrow' but these words have come to mean much more to me concerning the hope of one day returning to the faraway home of some very dear friends. i have said many times that i was only in sri lanka for ten days, but it was long enough to fall in love. i long to be reunited with my beloved, and to bring friends with me, that the gospel would be preached and the life changing power of Jesus would be testified to in jerusalem, judea, samaria... and even to the ends of the earth.