Bournagain

Is it a significant event when in a country of 64 million people, 18,000 marchers descend on the capital to stand up for a cause they believe in? Or 25,000 marchers? Or 3,500? These are the three

estimations I have seen for a march that took place in Paris last weekend – the first two are according to the organisers, the 3rd according to the police. Why such a huge variation? Either the organisers have grossly exaggerated, or the police have some specific reason for underestimating. Such a discrepancy couldn’t just be a mistake.
The media certainly didn’t think it was significant. In any case, the two major newspapers that I peruse daily didn’t even mention it. If the march had been protesting over redundancies in the public sector, changes in retirement conditions, or the famous pouvoir d’achat (buying power), it would have been all over the news. Instead it was over what the marchers consider to be a human tragedy that surpasses the one that was to explode into the world’s media two days later – that of Haiti.

The march concerned what a friend of mine who blogged the event calls “the calamity of abortion”. Marchers came from all over France, accompanied by delegations from several other European countries, to participate in an event called En marche pour la vie (marching for life). The object was not only to honour the 7 million lives that have been snuffed out in France since 1975, but also the millions of women who have been physically, psychologically and spiritually damaged through the process, and the many marriages and relationships that have been dislocated as a result.

This was not the first such march but the sixth, and numbers have been steadily growing. This year there were interesting developments. Firstly there is a growing number of medical personnel demanding that a conscience clause be in included in the relevant legislation allowing doctors to refuse to perform abortions. And secondly was the presence of a number of marchers representing left-wing political organisations – revealing that opposition to the IVG (intérruption volontaire de grossesse – the very euphemistic technical term for abortion – “voluntary interruption of pregnancy”), is not simply the domain of the political right, nor is just it an obscure notion of the religious fringe.

If you read French you can head over to my friend’s article. Otherwise here’s a brief snippet from his conclusion:

There is no question of us remaining silent. The witness of women who have been through it prohibits us. The silent cries of embryos killed in their mothers’ wombs prohibits us. Our conscience reproaches us…We all know about it! Before becoming who we are, we also were embryos! Why should today’s embryos have less right to life than those of yesterday? Let us help women in distress! Let’s invest without counting the cost to support them! But let us refuse the diabolical short-term easy solution… which in the long-term creates nothing but difficulties.

Credit to Onlyphotos.org for the photo.

Since news the calamity in Port au Prince began filtering in nearly a week ago I have had times where it has been difficult to keep focused on things demanding my attention. It’s not the first time an earthquake has wrought destruction in a part of the world already woefully ill-equipped to deal with catastrophes. It probably won’t be the quake that produced the most fatalities in my lifetime either. However, this one is affecting me more than most.

For one thing I think it is the first time I have been aware of my children really understanding the extent of the disaster. Previous catastrophes haven’t affected them the way this one has – our 8-year old frequently talks about Haiti; without being prompted prayers for the Haitian people are offered up at mealtimes. It helps that Haiti already had a place in their consciousness. We have a Haitian friend in our church, and had (coincidentally?) begun supporting a work amongst Haitian orphans living in the Dominican Republic not long ago. It’s not that we had any particular concern for the Haitian people more than any other, but simply a belief in our Haitian friend who has taken up this cause, and wanting to support him. We agreed as a family that we would eat just rice for dinner on Mondays (when we remember), and give the money we save for this project.

So when the earthquake hit the children already had that connection. Not having TV they have been spared from a lot of the images – not that I am against children being exposed to the suffering of their fellow human beings per se. But images of suffering are so ubiquitous that it is easy to become blasé about them, and I haven’t noticed our children needing the reinforcement of pictures to understand the seriousness of what has happened. I can’t get over the extent of the damage though. It is so difficult to envisage an entire city leveled, and I keep imagining what it would be like to live there, and the overwhelming sense of not having any idea where to even begin putting life back together again.

And then you start thinking, why Haiti? I don’t mean in the sense “how could God let this happen”, because this is a question that doesn’t usually occur to me. I don’t blame God for natural disasters. I ask the question in the sense, why Haiti instead of, say, France? Are we more deserving than Haitians, that we live in such relative comfort, in secure homes, with reliable incomes? How do we get off scot free? And what if disaster did strike? Would we know what to do? Not just in terms of having enough tins of food stashed away to ride out a disaster, but would we have the emotional and psychological framework in place to be able to not only to get ourselves through it, but to be a beacon hope to those around us in the midst of it. If my house fell down, would I blame God? Would I shake my fist at him? Would I dissolve into a puddle of anxiety and hopelessness? Or would I have the necessary insight to realise that it’s only a house, and that life is more than the sum of my possessions, and get on with the job of helping my neighbour dig out his relatives?

If nothing else, the images of Port au Prince put many of my petty concerns in perspective, and is a great reminder of how ephemeral are our days.

My now 7-year-old son had his birthday this week and as usual put in an exceedingly complicated request for his birthday cake. “Mum, last year I asked for a fighter plane, but you made me a passenger-plane cake (!!). This year can I have a fighter plane?”

Here’s what he ended up with: not just any fighter plane, but a camouflaged stealth bomber!!! Bravo Mum!

In the weekend we saw our eldest daughter (on the left) baptised with 3 of her friends. So how does a (nearly) 14-year old come to the decision to be baptised? Listening to their stories we heard how during a summer camp a couple of years ago, sleeping in the open air on a starry night, they were all really impressed by the beauty of the night sky. Someone asked the question, if you were to die tonight, do you know where you’d end up? A big question, but one which, is a question teenagers ask much more than we might think. This question really got them thinking, and led these four girls to a real encounter with God that night, which they demonstrated by taking the plunge to mark the beginning of their big adventure in faith. Awesome!

Happy New Year! Our family New Year’s Eve involved a trip to an outdoor skating rink which the city of Nantes puts on for the festive season, a nice meal which didn’t quite work out (Simon cooking!), some games and a movie. We also talked around the table about our favourite memories from 2007. I am experiencing the usual disorientation of wondering where the year went. I generally approach the new year with a vague sense of a number of decisions that need to be made, new habits that need to be formed, and then when the first of January rolls around I don’t feel ready. Then I remind myself that it’s silly to get hung up about a change of digit in the year, which is, after all, a completely arbritrary way of dividing time. There’s nothing sacred about the calendar. But it is a reminder of the ever-accelerating passage of time, and the fact that we are not getting any younger. I’m getting ready to teach a series on the Jesus’ teaching on the end times in Matthew 24, and have been struck again by the many references to time in the prophetic Scriptures, and the signs that are to help us get ready for the events of the end – whether they come in our lifetime or not. It is a good reminder that time is going in a specific direction – forward! The calendar may be arbitrary, but the passage of time has specific purpose as we head towards the fulfillment of all God had in mind when he created the world: the establishment of a kingdom on earth with Christ as its king.

Sometimes people ask us what a “normal” week looks like. It’s always such a difficult question to answer, as a week rarely ends up looking like what we expected or planned.

Monday I spoke to a group of visiting Americans about French church history – I think that if I ever had to change jobs I would quite happily be a history teacher.

That evening I joined in with a series of seminars one of the churches here is running on house church/simple church. This church is in the very unique situation of preparing to merge with two other churches, and making home meetings the centre of their activity. One of the really fascinating things is that the ethnic makeup of these three churches is very diverse.

Tuesday morning Dad took school with the children while Mum helped out at La Maison – a drop-in centre for local homeless people. It is a reality check for both of us to know what some of these people go through.

Thursday evening there is a fledgling home meeting happening on the island in Nantes where we heard the great news that one of the group has just got engaged, and got into some good discussions around Genesis 1 & 2.

Friday I have 7 hours of English classes, back to back.

Saturday we had the second installment of the language café in our new venue. After much searching we found a suitable café that opens on Saturday mornings. It’s actually in the centre of town, which may have turned some people off. Nice atmosphere though, and I think we will keep it going to see what develops.

We have been to very few Sunday morning meetings since getting back from NZ, and have been enjoying the strangeness of this (after 20+ years). However, being a special day with a meal and baptisms, we spent the day with all our St. Sébastien church friends on Sunday.

And now it’s Monday again – the beginning of another week, at the end of which we will probably wonder, as usual, where the days have gone.

Today we have been back in France for 2 weeks. About time I got back to the blog. But before getting into anything more consequential, I just have to share this photo with you. We spent two days in Hong Kong on our way back to France, and, wanting to give the children as authentic an experience as possible, we ate one of the meals in a local noodle bar. Very little English was spoken. The facial expressions speak volumes about how our children deal with culture shock.

Needless to say, the other patrons found us very entertaining.

We’re on the road again, now in Auckland visiting friends, family and various church groups. Our planned Sunday morning meeting was moved to Sunday evening, and when we realised we had a free morning with friends, we decided to stay at home and be church rather than go to church. Had a lovely time just discussing a few passages of Scripture that have been meaningful for us recently, and praying together.

We decided to leave it open so that the children could participate or not, depending on what they were happiest with. This is one of the issues that comes up with the whole house-church idea – what do you do with the children? In this case, the younger ones just played quietly, and the older ones sat and listened, just joining in for the prayer.

Not having Sunday School might seem like heresy in some quarters, but I think it’s only a problem if we believe that Sunday mornings are the only time that children get any spiritual input. If that is happening just as a regular part of family life, when we gather together as believers we can be quite relaxed about how much the children are involved. As long as they know they are welcome, that their participation is welcomed to the level they feel comfortable with, they benefit. Simply observing the natural way that their parents share their life of faith with friends is of value. Some of the adult discussion may be over their heads, but some of it will take root and perhaps be discussed at a later stage around the family meal table. It was lovely having the children join us, rather than being “sent out” as is normally the case.

Having been a parent for 13 years (we have just become parents of a teenager!), I should have learned a thing or two about prayer for and with my children. Sadly, one of the biggest lessons is that I don’t do it often enough.

You’d think it would just come naturally – I pray on my own, so why not with my kids. But it actually takes practice, perseverance, and a bit of training (for the parent as much as the child). I find it kind of hard to pray with a kid who has been bouncing off the walls only seconds earlier, but I must acknowledge that the problem is mostly in my head. I think of prayer too much as a sober, spiritual activity, and not enough as a natural conversation with the One who knows me more intimately than anyone. I don’t think that Jesus is at all phased by the exuberance of children, so why should I be?

Last night with some friends we prayed for my 6 year old son who has a persistent stutter for which speech therapy has been ineffective. We’ve tried lots of different approaches to help him get over it, but looking back, the times when there has been improvement have been directly linked with times of specific prayer for the problem.

It was really amazing to see how my son responded. Read the rest of this entry »

Fargo

Don’t know if you ever saw that ghastly film called “Fargo” – well in real life it’s quite a fun place. We discovered this when we spent the day here with our friends and their six children. More photos at Flickr (click on the photo).