Back at Relay 1 - 22 years later...

This summer we had the privilege of being invited to speak at the World Mission Night of UCCF's Relay 1 conference.

In September 1996, Jonathan and I went to Relay 1, the orientation training conference for Relay Workers on UCCF's graduate training programme. We had both been involved in our university Christian Unions our whole student lives and had been significantly blessed and developed as we'd served on the Executive Committees of our CUs; attending UCCF's regional and national training conferences and beginning to grasp what gospel ministry involved. We both applied to Relay and were accepted onto the programme to continue to live and work in our university cities (Birmingham and York). We'd never met. We happened to sit by each other in the first morning session on the first full day of the conference. Little did we know what a massive impact Relay would have on our lives. 

Relay is how we met, but it's so much more than that. Relay has shaped so much of our life and ministry together: the agenda, the principles and our outlook. The focus of much of the teaching of Relay, as it equips young gospel workers starting out in ministry, is grace and the call, in a 2 Timothy 2:2-style, to pass on what we are learning. With the gospel of grace as our foundation and motivation, we were encouraged to LEARN and to find those "faithful others" to pass that on to. It continues to encourage us to see how Relay has impacted not just UCCF, but IFES worldwide and the church in the UK and abroad.

And so, 22 years on, we found ourselves back in the Severn Lodge Meeting Room speaking to this years' Relay Workers, with our four children listening. Jonathan spoke from the "classic text for world mission" (his words), Ezra 1, and a bit from Ephesians 3.

Severn Lodge Meeting Room

The Ezra passage points to God's priority (which has always been his priority, from Genesis 1 to Revelation 22) to establish his dwelling with people, and to have a people who are his own, and who enjoy his presence forever. The mission that God has left in the stewardship of his people is to be part of the building of his temple - which Ezra 1 points to, which Jesus fulfils in his own body, and which Ephesians 3 shows is the task to be continued until the end. We had an opportunity to encourage the 75 staff and Relay workers to consider how they might contribute to this in whatever small way, and to remind them that though the needs are great and unending in the UK, they are perhaps greater and less begun in many other parts of the world, and certainly in almost all of continental Europe.

I gave my testimony really on the impact that Relay had on my worldview and my attitude to world mission. It went something like this:

I don't come from a mish-kid background and I grew up thinking missionaries were sad, losers who didn't like British culture and that's why they went somewhere else. I'd see them in their ill-fitting Laura Ashley or home-made dresses and think, "No, that is not for me. I love England. Why would I live somewhere else?" And, even here, at Relay 1's World Mission Night, I remember praying for two ex-Relay Workers who were working with IFES in Siberia and thinking, "They're CRAZY! Who would go to SIBERIA?! I'll pray for them, but I'm not impressed. Rather them than me."

Relay 1996-97 at Relay 1 on the lawn at Quinta, September 1996

So, it all came as a bit of a shock when, at Relay 2, the January conference, in a church hall in Edinburgh, God challenged me to sort out my priorities. Rose Dowsett was speaking on World Mission and she made a couple irrefutable statements about God:

1. God is your loving Heavenly Father and he knows what's best for you
2. God is the God of the WHOLE WORLD

Then she made one annoyingly logical argument:

• If that's true, who are you to say, "I will serve you, God, this far and no further"?

That was annoying, because I couldn't argue with that. Then she gave one challenge:

• If you can't argue with that, can I challenge you to pray that you'll be willing to go wherever God wants to send you.

Well, I love a challenge. But not one like that! So, despite my best efforts, I found myself in a position where, against my will, I prayed something like this, "Lord, you know I'm not happy about this, but you are God and I am not, and you do know what's best for me. So, if you really want to, I'm up for going wherever and doing whatever you think is best." I felt like Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing when she says, "Against my will. I am send to bid you to come in for dinner." (Act 2 Scene 3!)

When Jonathan and I first talked about dating, he was clear that he didn't want to go out with someone who wouldn't consider going overseas. God, in his grace, had prepared me for this. I had already, independently and months before, prayed that prayer. I could tell Jonathan, with impunity, that I was willing to go wherever. And I'm so glad God had done that. I'm sure that, if I hadn't prayed that prayer in January, in late March I would have been so eager to go out with Jonathan, I'd have agreed to anything. Then, in all the hardships and struggles of the past 12 years in Greece, I might have blamed Jonathan for bringing us here, or myself for agreeing to be with him. Instead I have been able to see it as part of God's will and for my sanctification.

At Relay 3, the June conference, *spoiler alert* there will probably be a talk (or at least there was in my day...) that will challenge to think about where they might be in 10 years' time. A challenge to set a straight path in discipleship and faith with gospel priorities whatever the circumstances. Exactly 10 years after I prayed that prayer, we had been living in Athens for just over a week.  

It hasn't been easy. There have been many tears and frustrations and disappointments along the way. But, 12 years' into living in Greece, I know it's worth it, even if I don't always feel that way. God has not used me according to my strengths and gifts a lot of the time and he has wrecked my pride in terrible, wonderful and ongoing ways. Language learning is hideous. Fascinating but hideous. Sounding like an idiot and feeling like an outsider are not nice. But we're called to be aliens and strangers and I am longing for a better country - a heavenly one, in a Hebrews 11-style. 

So, I challenge you to think: Is God the God of the whole world? Is he your loving Heavenly Father who knows what's best for you? Then don't limit where or how you will serve him. Let him be God. Be open to being made into the person he wants you to be.

We didn't sugar coat, neither did we put undue pressure on anyone. Our aim was to set forth the truth plainly and provide stimulus for a challenge. There were plenty of good conversations going on over the next hour or so and a number of Relay Workers have expressed an interest in Relay Homestart, the programme that prepares and supports Relay Workers to serve with an IFES movement somewhere else in the world for at least a year after Relay. When I was Relay Administrator, my boss, Andy Shudall, started that programme, and two of our colleagues here in Greece, Tim and Nicky, first came to Greece as Homestarters.

Relay 1 "Bedtime Story" September 2001

We were very aware of the poignancy of our role at Relay 1. Conscious of how God was using us to make his mission to take the good news of the gospel of grace resonate in the hearts of those Relay Workers. We knew what it might be like for them; we'd sat in their seats; we weren't asking them to do anything we hadn't already done. It was a real privilege and responsibility to be involved. 

Ten years ago (there's a theme here...) we visited Forum and I wrote a blog about it (which you can read here). After his talk on John 20:21, John Piper challenged two groups to stand. The first group, those that felt called to commit vocational (whole-life) cross-cultural mission, somewhere between 150 and 200 stood. The second group those that felt called to do some short-term cross-cultural mission - a week, a month, a year or two - a further 400 stood. I was overwhelmed by the enormity of seeing students respond to the call to go to all nations. I wanted to warn them of how painful it was going to be and advise them to think more carefully. 

I didn't feel any of that helplessness this time. I understand the cost; I understand the call; I know the value of responding in faith. We both teared up in our talks. We want to see people take action, to know the cost and count it worth it.

Please pray for these Relay Workers, and the staff, that they would respond to the challenge, whatever that looks like. And pray especially for the 20 or so who are considering Homestart as an option. Ben, the current Relay Coordinator, would like to see at least 10 Relay Workers join Homestart.

We were so encouraged and blessed by our brief time at Relay 1. It was GREAT to be able to join in on a end-of-day Relay staff team meeting and hear staff feeding back on how the Relay Workers are doing. It was like the old days when Jonathan and I were on Relay staff. The kids loved it too and some are considering if they might want to be Relay Workers some day...

I want to dedicate this post to a few key influences during our time on Relay especially: Nigel Pollock, Tim Rudge, Andy Shudall, Richard Cunningham, Neil Powell, Rose Dowsett.

… as we forgive others who sin against us …

I have recently been at Kalamos. Being at a kids’ camp for 17 days provided plenty of opportunities to talk about confession and forgiveness. My first opportunity was in English (phew!) with a couple of English-as-primary-language boys. They had been bickering and being mean to each other for about a day and I had innocently asked one of them how they were doing. He tearfully explained the situation and how it was making him miserable but he didn't really know how to stop. We talked about the fact that these things escalate when we treat others the way we think we've been treated rather than the way we want to be treated; when we justify our behaviour by our twisted perception of other people’s actions. What he needed was to seek the forgiveness of the other boy and to forgive him. We talked about how that kind of conversation couldn’t start with him pointing the finger but with him confessing his own part in the problems. For a 10 year-old he was impressively mature and willing to do this. So we went to the other boy, I explained that I was just there to witness the conversation. He confessed his part (his guilt, his sin) and asked for forgiveness, which he was given willingly. The other boy, without prompting, apologised for his part and asked for forgiveness and received it. I then congratulated them both and prayed for their friendship. It was a heart-warming experience! 

It happened again the next day with a couple of smaller girls, again in English, and then again later in the week in Greek with other girls. There was one occasion where, due to a fight between two boys from different tents, the boys from each tent were plotting revenge against the offending boy from the other tent. The leader of the camp called the tents together and talked about vengeance vs forgiveness, and opened a floodgate of apologies and forgiveness given. This was all very encouraging and right for a Christian camp: opportunities to remind the children of the gospel that they know about but don’t necessarily trust in for themselves yet; a reminder about how much we should be prepared to forgive others even if we are ‘innocent’ because of how much God has forgiven us. Little did I know that in our final week I was going to have to put this into practice in a way I hadn’t anticipated.

On the final Monday of the camp we had a πανηγύρι (panigiri – fête). Over the course of the camp we had been earning camp money through chores and exceptional behaviour which we could spend at the πανηγύρι. There were stalls with games, a popcorn/candy floss stand and little ‘basket stalls’ with goods to buy: mostly second hand bits and pieces, various stationery goods with Bible verses, etc. I found a very cute little metal blond boy carrying a rake that would make a good little present for the absent Jonathan. He actually had two brothers that I also wanted to buy, but a couple of girls expressed an interest in them, so I let them buy them. At the end of the evening I decided not to put him in the suitcase for fear he’d get damaged and elected to put him on the shelf in the bungalow instead.

The next afternoon during free time most of the girls from my ‘tent’ – the bungalow – came to me with a bag containing the little boy, now beheaded. Apparently they had all been playing in the bungalow and one of the girls, let’s call her Maria, had taken my boy off the shelf and started mucking about with him. The others had, apparently, told her not to do that and warned her that he was fragile and wasn't a toy. Before she knew it, his head was off and they were all outraged. She begged them not to tell me and ran off to hide/play on the swings. Their sense of injustice was aided by the fact that Maria had been a bit whiny and annoying for most of them most of the camp. They smelt blood and came to me to report this transgression.

I am not very proud of my initial reaction. I was furious and just about managed to contain that fury. I told the girls to not play in the bungalow but to go and do something else and that I would talk to Maria. They didn't know where she was. I went to the bungalow first to put away the bits and see if Maria was there. By the time I found her I had calmed down considerably and had begun to think about how I might approach this. Maria is only five years old and this is her first time away at camp, so I needed to do a good job. It went something like this:

I explained to her that I had found out about the boy and that I had been angry and upset. The fact that it was a present for my husband probably made it more upsetting to me than it would have been otherwise. I didn’t lay it on thick, but I did make sure that she understood that I thought this was serious. As I spoke she wept. I then asked her to explain to me what had happened. She didn’t really want to speak, but I encouraged her to take a deep breath and say what she needed to say. She recounted the ‘incident’ and even admitted to asking the other girls not to tell me. I told her that I had been angry to start with and upset but that I couldn’t stay angry. I told her that I had wondered if there was an appropriate punishment that I could give her. I explained that, by the time I had found her I had realised something. That I needed to forgive her. That it was better if she was sorry and easier for me, but that either way, I needed to forgive her. You see, she’d broken this little boy that had only been mine for a few hours, but that God had broken his own Eternal Son, so that He could forgive us all that we had done against him. That her sin against me was like a tiny speck of dust compared to a whole world of sin that I had committed against God and He had forgiven me in Jesus. I told her that, in forgiving her, I was going to forget about it, not hold it against her, not remind her of it and that we would go and speak to the rest of the tent. So I encouraged her to apologise and I forgave her. We hugged and I prayed for both of us.

Hand-in-hand we went to find the others. In our little tent pow-wow I told the others a bit about our conversation. Some of them struggled a bit more than Maria and I did about the whole business of simply forgiving her and not speaking of it again. Like the natural Pharisees that we are, they wanted to point out again that they were right to tell her not to play with the boy and that she had done a bad thing in ignoring them. I told them that as the wronged party I had forgiven her and that they now needed to leave it. We prayed again, all together and happily carried on with the rest of the week. Because of the upset and the forgiveness, I think Maria and I had a much stronger bond than we had done before.

As I’ve recounted this story, to Jonathan and to others, I’ve been reminded that it’s not rocket science; it’s not that complicated or that exceptional or that unusual, but it is profound because it’s so clearly not the way of the world. I am naturally like Maria, wanting to avoid my sin and deny it, not blatantly (mostly) but passively, wanting to hide it from God and from others.

I am also naturally disinclined to forgive. I want vengeance or justice or payment even! I want to stay angry or upset or both and feel that that’s the right way to respond when someone sins against me. The line in the Lord’s Prayer is a simple concept though and one that I have had some understanding of since I was Maria’s age. It’s not simply “forgive us our sins”, although God does that, in Jesus. The proof of our understanding and our appreciation of the weight and strength and power of that forgiveness is in the second clause: “as we forgive those who sin against us”. How could I stay angry or upset or both with Maria? What could she do, anyway, to repay me for her sin? Even if she could buy me a new boy would that really make it all ok? No, forgiveness was the only appropriate response. And just as I have grown in understanding and appreciation of what that means, I pray that so too would Maria and all the other lovely little girls from my tent. That in years to come they would know the enormity of the forgiveness they have been given in Jesus and freely, willingly (and more quickly than I?!) give that forgiveness to others in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Confessions of the female English tenor

I love singing in choirs: I love the depth of sound from simple four-part harmonies; I love the unity without uniformity; I love the discipline of holding your line whatever everyone else is singing.

We’ve just started up a choir in our church, so I have joined this group of thirty or so that rehearses two or three times a month. I am naturally an alto – I can’t easily reach all the high notes of a soprano and I love the challenge of a good harmony – but in this choir I sing tenor. There is only one other regular tenor who is 13 and a bit quiet. I’m not quiet.

As I sat in rehearsal the other day, I realised that me singing tenor in this choir is a bit of a metaphor for my life here in Athens. I’m not sure how best to explain this, so here are some bullet points to start us off:

• Singing tenor means I’m out of my comfort zone: I am singing to the very depth of my range which means I am often not singing as loudly or as freely as I could.
• I stand out: you don’t get many female tenors. I am a freak. It’s ok, I’m used to me, but in this way I am obviously odd in front of a lot of more ‘normal’ people.
• Sometimes I’m alone. In rehearsal the other night it was just me in the tenors. It’s fine: I’m up for the challenge! And I’m not REALLY alone it’s just perception: there are plenty of other people in the choir and I am not ‘the only one left’! (1 Kings 19:10 – sometimes I have an Elijah complex.)
• This singing tenor business is stretching me. I’m not playing to my natural strengths. It’s close, but it’s not the same. I was going to say that it’s like trying to draw with my left hand, but it’s not THAT hard! I guess it’s more like trying to draw with just my right thumb and little finger (try it…).
• I’m trying to do two things, and I’m doing both badly: I’m trying to sing the tenor line AND sing the Greek words correctly. Very occasionally I manage both (and it feels GREAT), but most of the time I manage one at the expense of the other.
• BUT, I’m willing and able and meeting a ‘need’, so I might as well (although I’d appreciate more capable fellow tenors, or even replacements…).

Maybe, like Jonathan, you don’t need the illustrative nature of this situation spelt out. You can stop reading now, if you like!

Living for Jesus means self-denial and life as an alien and stranger (or foreigner and exile as the new NIV has it) in the world. Sometimes one’s “strangeness” is deliberate: choosing to stand out and not go with the flow; holding a viewpoint that is considered out-dated or intolerant. Sometimes the strangeness is unconscious – it doesn’t require deliberateness or self-control – but still indicates one’s alien-nature:  a godly knee-jerk reaction to something that before Jesus would have not bothered you so much; a confession of both your weaknesses and sin that doesn’t require careful self-examination and that you no longer need to hide because of the liberating grace that God has shown us in Jesus.

There are many ways in which we are made to feel alienated. We are MADE to feel it – both by the alien culture in which we live AND by the God who has MADE us (and is making us) this way. It is good for us to feel alienated: we don’t belong in the world as it is; it should stimulate a desire for our true home – the new heaven and the new earth; it should drive us to call others to have that same hope of eternal life.

Somewhere in between this true and godly experience of all Christians and my experience as a tenor is my experience as a Christian from the UK living in Athens.

Language incapacities still restrict and inhibit my life in lots of ways. There is more that I could do about this in an active deliberate way. Just as practising and doing singing exercises would be good for developing my tenor skills, so practice and more work would improve my Greek. Sometimes there are not enough hours in the day, but usually there are. So please pray for my Greek and my deliberateness in development – especially in this season where my Greek has taken a back seat in preference to running the family and enabling Jonathan to get further in his Greek. But I’m out of my comfort zone most of the time in Greek: more comfortable listening, although it still depends a bit on the subject and the speaker. Thankfully I am comfortable listening to sermons and Bible talks, but my conversational Greek is still a bit ropey. I am not as free in Greek and in Greek situations as I long to be. I am not myself yet, most of the time, in Greek. I want to try and explain this a bit better in another blog, but we’ll see…

I stand out because, although some people think I could pass for a Greek, I don’t quite fit in. I don’t really WANT to fit in in some ways – I’m not very conformist. But Greek society is quite conforming, generally.  So there are ways in which I’m deliberately making myself conform. Some of these are probably ok or even good: my clothes style has changed so that I don’t look quite so much like a foreigner; and, for the sake of not upsetting some of the older folk in church, I wear skirts mostly on Sundays (this one is up for debate, anyone?). Not so good is that I am less comfortable going out without make-up because I’m aware that most women don’t, and therefore do conform and put make-up on to go out. There is a constant (but not always consciously constant) strain between not conforming to the pattern of the (Greek) world and being all things to all people that maybe I wouldn’t have thought so much about if I were living in my own culture.

Feeling isolated and lonely are regular flickers in my conscience. They don’t stay long and don’t really affect me, but I’m aware that the feelings exist. I mostly believe that they are mostly a product of my own expectations and sense of entitlement. (See Andy Shudall’s blog here for an interesting take on that.) The extent to which I feel any of these things is relative. I once had more friends and more tangible local support than I do now. Now I don’t. Head up. God is still God, I still have the same assurance that Jesus is my only hope, nothing can separate me from the love of God and if God does provide for all my needs then he is providing for my needs for fellowship. I need to learn to be satisfied in Him whatever and practise contentment. And anyway, I live with five other people and there are friends in the city, just not round the corner. AND I should make more of an effort to make friends with people in my neighbourhood.

I am going to write a blog some time about living cross-culturally being like living like an amputee. So here is a very brief summary: Living cross-culturally means that you can’t rely on your natural abilities in the same way; you live similarly but not the same as before; you have to make adaptations in order to settle in to your new life; you need to have lower expectations of yourself; you need to be willing to grow in ways that might highlight some of your limitations; you need to accept that you will have limitations; you need to be prepared to grow and stretch in spite of those limitations; you are not the same as you were in your own culture and you never will be. More on that some other time.

Multi-tasking in any culture is tricky. Trying to be a faithful child of God, a good wife, a perfect mother, a thoughtful daughter / sister / niece / cousin / friend, who is spinning all the associated plates  plus a few others, doesn’t always (ever?) go to plan. When things go well, praise the Lord, when they don’t, praise the Lord. I rejoice especially whenever I manage to give time and attention to something in a proactive not reactive way: when I PLAN to spend specific quality time with one of the children for their good; when I manage to plan and cook something that isn’t a last-minute, thrown together, born in stress creation; when all the clean laundry is away (fat chance!) and all the children only have clothes in their wardrobe that fit both in terms of size and weather (and we see flying pigs whilst enjoying a month of Sundays…). If I spent any amount of time thinking in more detail about all the things that need doing, all the things that I should be doing and all the things I’d like to be doing and trying to plan my life around them, I would probably lie down somewhere quiet and not want to get up again. So, I try to rejoice in the good times and the not so good, persevere in the stretching nature of life and look forward to the eternal rest to come!

I am willing and able, so I might as well live here and seek to serve the church here and be involved in Christ’s work of building his church where I am. I would LOVE to have more co-workers, especially Greek ones who would find aspects of life and work here easier than me. If you know any Greeks that might consider working with us, do let us know! The co-workers don’t have to be Greek though, but they do have to be prepared to "sing tenor" as it were - even if they are a well-seasoned and very gifted soprano or bass or sing so badly that they don't even want to listen to themselves. The problem is that we don't like admitting our weaknesses, let alone learning to be content to live in them for extended periods and press on through, relishing in God's strength and provision and rejoicing. Language learning is tough. It was then, it still is. Cross-cultural living is ego-bruising to say the least. I would love to find and train replacements for the things in which I can be replaced (there is no vacancy for wife of Jonathan…), but it’s more likely that we will be training co-workers and not replacements at this stage.

I know that all of the above contains a lot of ‘I’s. Many of the ‘I’s could be ‘we’s: I know that many of the feelings related to the above issues are shared with Jonathan and other 'cross-culturally living' friends; I know that many of the above are common to all who live for Jesus. I’m also aware that this is a very me-centric blog. My prayer, however, is that, as you’ve read my confessions and my struggles, you are pointed to Jesus who is the author (captain/pioneer) and perfecter of our faith.

Οι μαμάδες δεν είναι τέλειες - Mothers aren't perfect

It was Mother's Day for most of the world on Sunday. As is customary at our church, the Sunday School presented a little γιορτή (celebration) in honour of mothers, at the end of the morning meeting. I volunteered to speak, briefly, on our chosen spin for the year - Mothers aren't perfect. Below is the talk, as given, and the translation. Happy Mother's Day!

Η Τέλεια Μητέρα

Πάντα κάνει το καλύτερο για τα παιδιά της. Μαγειρεύει το πιο νόστιμο φαγητό που αρέσει σε όλη την οικογένεια. Δεν θυμώνει ποτέ. Δεν φωνάζει. Το σπίτι της είναι αστρεφτερό. Τα ρουχα των παιδιών της είναι  πεντακάθαρα. Είναι συνέχεια στην τρίχα. Τα παιδιά της είναι ΠΑΝΤΑ υπάκουα και τα καταφέρνουν εξίσου καλά στο σχολείο, τις ξένες γλώσσες, τα αθλήματα και την μουσική. Η τέλεια μαμά είναι κοινωνική, είναι φιλική με τους γείτονες, κάνει τα καλύτερα τραπέζια και είναι πρόεδρος του συλλόγου γονέων. Επιπλέον είναι καλή σύζυγος και διαπρέπει στην δουλειά της. 

Σηκώστε το χέρι όσες είστε σαν αυτή τη μητέρα! Κάποιες από σας μπορεί να αναγνωρίζετε τον εαυτό σας σε κάποια κομμάτια της περιγραφής: μπορεί να είσαι η μαμά που μαγειρεύει τέλεια, ή μπορεί να είσαι οργανωτική μαμά, ή να έχεις παντα υπάκουα παιδιά... Μακάρι...

Το μοντέλο της τέλειας μητέρας υπάρχει και στην Βίβλο:

Ισχύ και ευπρέπεια έιναι ντυμμένη· και ευφραίνεται
για τον μελλοντικό καιρό.

Ανοίγει το στόμα της με σοφία και επάνω στη γλώσσα
της είναι νόμος ευμένειας.

Επαγρυπνεί στη διακυβέρνηση του σπιτιού της, και
ψωμί οκνηρίας δεν τρώει.

Τα παιδιά της σηκώνονται και τη μακαρίζουν· ο άνδρας
της, και την επαινεί·

πολλές θυγατέρες φέρθηκαν άξια, εσύ, όμως, τις
ξεπέρασες όλες.

Ψεύτικη είναι η χάρη, και μάταιη η ομορφιά· η γυναίκα,
η οποία φοβάται τον Κύριο, αυτή θα επαινείται.

(Παροιμίες 31:25-30)

Στην πραγματικότητα όμως ούτε στην Βίβλο υπάρχουν απόλυτα τέλειες μαμάδες: Η αλήθεια είναι ότι οι μαμάδες δεν είμαστε τέλειες.


Προσπαθούμε να φαινόμαστε όσο το δυνατόν τελειότερες και, ίσως, ο μεγαλύτερος φόβος μας είναι ότι οι άνθρωποι θα ανακαλύψουν ότι στη πραγματικότητα δεν είμαστε τόσο τέλειες...


Δεν είμαστε τέλειες: μας ενοχλεί όταν τα παιδιά μας δεν κάνουν αυτό που θέλουμε. Πολλές φορές δεν καταλαβαίνουμε τα παιδιά μας και δεν τους φερόμαστε όπως χρειάζεται να τους φερθούμε: Είμαστε πολύ αυστηρές όταν το μόνο που χρειάζονται είναι μια αγκαλιά ή μερικές φορές απλά τους δίνουμε αυτό που θέλουν για να μας αφήσουν στην ησυχία μας. Οι σχέσεις μας δεν είναι τέλειες επειδή εμείς δεν είμαστε τέλειοι. Έτσι είναι.


Σαν χριστιανοί ξέρουμε αν και δεν υπάρχει τέλεια μαμά, υπάρχει όμως τέλειος πατέρας.(Και δεν είναι ο ανδρας μου, ο Τζόναθαν.) Αυτός ο τέλειος Πατέρας συγχωρεί τις ατέλειες μας εξαιτίας του ενός τέλειου Υιού Του. Έτσι, σημαντικότερο από το να είναι τα παιδιά μας υπάκουα ή να έχουν καθαρά χέρια, η προσευχή μας είναι ότι εμείς και τα παιδιά μας θα ελπίζουμε σ’αυτό τον Τέλειο Υιό. Άρα κάθε φορά που συνειδητοποιούμε ότι έχουμε αδυναμίες και δεν είμαστε τέλειες ας φέρνουμε τις ατέλειες μας και τις αδυναμίες μας στο Χριστό.


Ας μην απογοητευόμαστε αλλά ας ομολογήσουμε πρώτα στον Θεό και στην οικογένειά μας ότι δεν είμαστε τέλειες και ας εμπιστευτούμε τον Χριστό.


Οι μαμάδες δεν είναι τέλειες. Είναι καλό να παλεύουμε με τις ατέλειες και τις αδυναμίες μας μέχρι να έρθει ο Χριστός. Αλλά οι ατέλειες μας να μας δείχνουν στον Χριστό, τον τέλειο Υιο, και λέει στη Γραφή:


Αρκεί σε σένα η χάρη μου· επειδή, μέσα σε αδυναμία, η δύναμή μου φανερώνεται τέλεια. Με βαθύτατη ευχαρίστηση, λοιπόν, θα καυχηθώ περισσότερο στις αδυναμίες μου, για να κατοικήσει μέσα μου η δύναμη του Χριστού. (Β’ Κορινθίος 12:9)

The Perfect Mother

She always does what’s best for her children. She cooks delicious food that all her family love. She never gets angry. She doesn’t shout. Her house is as clean as a show-home. Her children’s clothes are always spotless. She is always turned out beautifully, with every hair in place. Her children are ALWAYS obedient and succeed in every area – school, foreign languages, sport and music. The perfect mother is sociable: she is friendly with her neighbours; she shows hospitality and is president of the PTA. On top of all this, she is a great spouse and she excels in her work.

Put your hand up if you are like this mother! Some of you may recognise something of yourself in a small part of the description: maybe you’re a mum who cooks perfectly, or maybe you’re involved in organisations or your children are always obedient… If only…

The model of perfect motherhood also exists in the Bible:

She is clothed with strength and dignity;
she can laugh at the days to come.

She speaks with wisdom,
and faithful instruction is on her tongue.

She watches over the affairs of her household
and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Her children arise and call her blessed;
her husband also, and he praises her:

‘Many women do noble things,
but you surpass them all.’

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting;
but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

(Proverbs 31:25-30)

In reality, though, the Bible doesn’t really have absolutely perfect mothers: The truth is that mothers aren’t perfect.

We try to appear as perfect as we can and, maybe, our biggest fear is that people will find out that we’re not so perfect…

We’re not perfect: we’re frustrated when our children don’t do what we want them to do. We often don’t understand our children and don’t treat them the way they need to be treated: We’re too harsh when all they need is a hug or sometimes we give them whatever they want just for a bit of peace and quiet. Our relationships aren’t perfect because we aren’t perfect. That’s how it is.

As Christians we know that even if there is no such thing as the perfect mother, there is such a thing as the perfect father (and it’s not my husband, Jonathan.) This perfect Father forgives our imperfections because of his one perfect Son. So, more important than our children’s obedience or whether or not they have clean hands, our prayer is that we all put our hope in that Perfect Son.  And each time we recognise that we are weak and imperfect we should bring our imperfections and weakness to Christ.

Don’t be disappointed but confess your imperfections to God and to your family and trust in Christ.

We mothers are not perfect. It’s good to wrestle with our imperfections and weaknesses until Christ returns. But our weaknesses are to point us to Christ, the Perfect Son, as the Bible says:

But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)




I guess it is typical that, on the morning of the Mother's Day celebration, I sent H back upstairs to change into something prettier and more appropriate for such an occasion than the jeans and t-shirt she had chosen (which she would have been hot in...) a recurring Sunday morning scene - we now have a 'deal' that we take in turns to choose her clothes...; that I shouted at J for not getting dressed quickly enough and that I was irritated with Esther for not keeping her head still whilst I tried to brush her hair... Not to mention my frustration with the printer not working (and therefore having to print out from the pastor's office in the church building with 10 minutes to go), having to force a brush carefully through Ruth's incredibly curly, knotted hair, having to put away the fridge-related breakfast things and blaming some of the above on Jonathan. Needless to say I spoke with honesty and feeling, but still... Grateful for grace, frustrated with imperfection, persevering in hope and looking forward to glory!

Mirror, mirror on the wall, Joel is the fairest of them all! He is also A1, 1st class and, perhaps, the most stubborn?!

Little Joely-Poly has had nearly two weeks at ‘BIG’ school now. And we thought we’d update you on his progress and give some points for prayer…

His first week at school started on Wednesday 10 September at 5.30pm. This was a meeting with the teachers for all the first year ‘πρώτη τάξη’ (proti taxi – 1st class) students and their parents. There are 3 classes in each year group in the school with about 16 students per class and no teaching assistants, and he is in class A1 (Άλφα ένα - Alpha Ena) and will remain with that class and teacher for two years. We met his teacher: Κύρια Βενετία (Keeria Veneteea) who explained that Thursday’s class would just be a blessing from the priest and a bit of time together as a class and that Friday they would start ‘proper’. For Friday’s lesson he would need a pencil, pencil sharpener, rubber, some colouring pens, a drawing book and something to eat and drink. His first few days at school ended at the earlier time of 1130 and would normally go on until 1230.

So, on Thursday I took him to school and watched and waited as the whole school gathered (about 270 kids), and as the priest prayed, chanted (ALMOST badly) and threw a bit of ‘holy water’ in the general direction of the children. I was struck immediately by how fair Joel is compared to practically the whole school – even the other blond(e) kids have more olive skin tones.

On Friday he was given 7 (that’s SEVEN) A4 textbooks which we had to cover with clear sticky plastic: 2 Maths, 2 Geography (sort of), 1 Literature and 2 Language. And the Κύρια Βενετία told us that he would need a bigger bag for all his books and his food. So, on Saturday, on the way back from the beach, Joel and I went to Carrefour and picked up a MASSIVE Spiderman bag.

On Monday Joel was given a long list of other things that he would need (all of which we’d bought by the end of the week: see picture below, which is missing a drawing book with different coloured sheets and all the stuff he already had). All of it (including each pen and crayon) needs to have a name label, so I spent a happy couple of hours doing that! (I'm such an admin nerd!) He sits next to Andreas, has 10 boys and 6 girls in his class and has writing homework every day. School starts at 8 and finishes at 1230 but he could opt in to the afternoon school if he wanted. We might consider that next year.

Culturally there are so many differences to school in the UK. Last year we bought Joel a book called ‘Starting School’ by Janet and Allan Ahlberg. It’s a lovely introduction to Infants’ School UK style. I flicked through it last night and it made me so sad I almost cried (which, let’s face it, isn’t THAT sad – I cry SO easily…). School here is so formal from the beginning that Joel’s class has very little of that familiar Reception class bumpf (role-play stuff, sand/water table, named pegs, etc) although they DID have to take in cushions for the ‘story and singing corner’ sessions (swing your pants!). There seems to be quite an emphasis on pleasing his teacher and Joel isn’t as much of a pleaser as H or E (it’s just not his personality – something about being a first child?). Joel clearly has no idea of these cultural differences, so it isn’t a sacrifice for him! He is always a bit reluctant to GO to school and occasionally complains about his teacher and the lessons, but once through the gates he is really happy to be there and enthusiastically greets his teacher and classmates!

How’s he doing? Good but not great (sic). His favourite thing to do is to play with Darius and Kiara in the playground. Darius (6) and Kiara (10) are Meikles: the children of our friends Heath and Meriko, a Canadian family who work for Hellenic Ministries and live LITERALLY around the corner. It’s great to be getting to know them better – they’ve been here for a year so – and, no doubt, you’ll hear more of them in due course. It’s great that he has good friends already but the Anglophonic nature of that friendship will, at least initially, hamper his Greek progress. Bullet points of what the teacher has said:

• He is bright but stubborn and a bit daydreamy. Consequently he isn’t good at listening and often doesn’t want to get involved with what the class is doing. His main defence of his position (not wanting to write or speak in Greek) is that he’s English.
• He is bright and it’s not clear how much he understands. She can’t believe he can read difficult Greek words but doesn’t know them or know what they mean.
• He has developed bad habits at his νηπιαγωγείο (pre-school) where he was allowed to opt out of activities and not listen to the Greek.
• We should consider getting him to join a Greek club, eg a football team in order that he make Greek friends and be part of something completely in Greek.

She also suggested that we think about sending him to one of two state schools that deal specifically with children who don’t speak Greek. The closest one is in Alimos, in the South of the city, and would require us taking him to the bus-stop near the metro every morning for a 730 pick-up and collecting him from there at 330 every afternoon. Heath and Meriko sent their kids there last year, it was definitely good for Kiara but was exhausting and probably didn’t make much difference for Darius. Because the real issue is his social development (and especially in Greek), we’ve decided to stick with the school here. We’re trying to speak more in Greek and watch, read and listen to more Greek language media. The kids are finding the Greek invasion into their English haven (our home!) a bit of a struggle (even Esther has learnt to say, “No Mummy, in ENGLISH!”), but we’ll get there!

Please pray for us that we would continue to love and support our children through this process. They are all quite content in their situations in spite of the language and the difficulties. Hannah’s teachers (the same as last year) say that she’s settled back really well and that she’s mixing and playing even more nicely with her peers than last year. Praise God! Pray especially for Joel’s and our relationship with Κύρια Βενετία during this ‘teething’ time and that he would grow friendships with his classmates.

Thanks!

Suffering and Shining: God's Strategy (aka No Mud, No Glory)

UCCF FORUM marked the (almost) end of our summer UK visit. We left the children with Jonathan’s parents and drove the (oh so) familiar route to Quinta, Oswestry, Shropshire, LOVELY.

FORUM is the national student leaders’ conference run by UCCF (the UK branch of IFES). It’s the venue and the event where Jonathan and I were first in the same room at the same time (although we never met): we were both at FORUM ’95 as student leaders and both attended a meeting for those interested in doing Relay, about 40 people packed into a small lounge (Severn Lodge Lounge for those interested?!). Jonathan has spent over a hundred nights at Quinta as it is the venue for all Birmingham Uni CU houseparties (he went to 5), Midlands CU Leaders’ Training Weekends (8), Relay 1 and 3 (3 of each), Relay Reunions (2), FORUM (8) and other CU houseparties and events. I have been there almost as many times and in some ways it’s like home – it’s so familiar. Having been on staff and organised conferences based there we know the centre staff and the layout really well; know the shortest routes from any A to B; know the toilets least frequented and have marvelled at the small improvements made by the staff every year.We first met properly at Quinta (3rd September 1996 at Relay Training 1) and we celebrated our 12th anniversary of meeting by returning!

FORUM has grown significantly in the last ten years and now accommodates about 800 student leaders and 150 UCCF staff, Relay and guests. Most of the students camp and most of the meetings are held in big top tents of varying sizes. This year John Piper was giving the main Bible Readings from Ruth in the mornings and spoke at the World Service and Graham Daniels (Christians In Sport) spoke at two of the main meetings from Matthew 10 (Jesus sends out the Twelve).

We were only there for a couple of days but it was great to be back. We were able to catch up with dear friends and meet new ones. The most significant moments though were probably the same for most who attended FORUM this year. Two things really: it rained, a lot, and people responded to God’s call to take the gospel to all nations.

THE RAIN
As I have said in previous entries, we LOVE the rain. It rained and rained for most of the week and Clarkie’s hopes of running around barefoot wanging a Frisbee were sadly not to be. As a result the site got muddier and muddier – it wasn’t like Glastonbury 2005 but it was pretty wet – and, as is often the case, bad weather made for more of a community spirit and was definitely the wettest FORUM on record (and the weather got worse on the day we all left).

THE RESPONSE
John Piper spoke at the FORUM World Service from John 20:21 and he spoke in two sections: “As the Father sends me …” and “… so I send you”. The evening was packed with little interviews with various folk working in IFES teams in various parts of the world and an opportunity to pray for each area. Piper spoke about Jesus’ suffering and our call to both proclaim his suffering and extend it in our own lives. For me, this was the key to a talk which was designed to make folk reflect on what the call of the gospel is: suffering and sacrifice for the sake of God’s glory and the salvation of others. Piper said that suffering is not just a cost, but a strategy. God sends his people and gives suffering in order that they might communicate God’s love with authenticity. I’ve thought a lot about this over the past year and a half. We left our lovely lives in Beeston and Athens is hard in comparison. Visits to the UK, to church and life in Beeston, to UCCF events, are bitter sweet: they are a great joy to be involved in but a stark reminder of what we have left. We pray that we would make the most of this sacrifice; make it count and do it for the sake of the glorious name of Jesus, who sacrificed himself that we might be made right with God and have a relationship with him.

At the end of his second talk Piper explained that he was going to ask two different groups of people to stand up. The first group were those who were called to ‘cross-cultural, vocational (whole life) mission’, whether they were absolutely certain or just believed that that might be the case. The second group were those who were prepared to go on some short-term cross-cultural mission, whether that be a few weeks, months or a couple of years.

I think that somewhere between 150 and 200 stood at the first call. I, of little faith, couldn’t believe so many responded. As the second group were called to stand with them a further 400 or so stood. Most of the tent was standing. It moved me to tears and I need to explain why. 13 years ago I stood at FORUM and responded in the same way that some of these guys had: tentatively, knowing that God had called me to give my whole life for his glory and that, for me, that would mean moving outside of my comfort zone. I cried that Wednesday night because I know how much that response is going to cost. Suffering is not an option, it’s a cost and a strategy. But, and this is what I really want to make clear, it’s a strategy not just for the sake of those who see but for those who suffer. My personal pain at leaving my lovely life in Beeston helps me to “look forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” (Heb 11:10) It forces me to live for Jesus. I don’t do that very well and pray that I might glorify him more and more. But at the end of the evening I had two quotes ringing in my ears: further on in Hebrews 11 and some of the words from one of the songs we sang at FORUM:

If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country – a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.

(Hebrews 11:15-16)

Purify us Lord, so we’re spotless and pure as we hold out your word to this generation
How can they hear? And how can they believe? How can they call on your name unless we tell them?

I am not ashamed, I know whom I believe for God himself has come to me, now Jesus is my destiny.
I know I am changed and all you’ve given me: this hope, this love, this life, I can’t deny your power within me.
So, here I am, send me.

I AM changed. I’m not the person I thought was growing up to be. I have left behind me a lot of things that I used to hold very dear - a lot of dreams and aspirations. But the life I have is a gift from God to be lived out to his glory. It’s dirty and uncomfortable and inconvenient at times (like the mud at FORUM), but it also reminds me of my need for a Saviour, my need for power that does not come from me and the call to give my life for the sake of God’s glory and for the salvation of others.

The Green, Green Grass of Home

A few notes on cultural acclimatisation and a compare and contrast (but hopefully in a good way!)

We’ve arrived back safely from a great summer in England. I’ve just been looking back over photos and thinking about all the friends and family we were able to see; the weddings and birthday celebrations attended; the relaxing trips to favourite places; the new people we were privileged to meet; the green grass we got to really enjoy (and we did – see below!) and the rain. Joel has said, on numerous occasions since we left the UK permanently twenty-one months ago, that rain is his favourite weather, and the rest of us are inclined to agree. We LOVE rain. We don’t see that much of it in Athens – and yet there is no hosepipe ban, ever. Often, when it rains in Athens (and it doesn’t often rain), it rains heavily all day. We may have had about 7 days like that last year, and it probably rained for a shorter period, usually at night, 15 to 20 times (and that’s a generous estimate!). In fact, this last year, it nearly snowed as much as it rained!

The kids enjoying the grass in York Minster Gardens

Hannah running around at Twycross Zoo

Esther in Museum Gardens, York.

Joel and Esther in 'our' back garden in Beeston

The visit of the Paros mission team got me thinking about the differences between British and Greek life. I guess they fall into a number of categories: Athens/Beeston differences – both objective and subjective; daily life differences (subjective?); and the kind of cultural faux-pas/niceties/strange habits that people need warning about!

Athens is a dry (no kidding) and dusty city with little open space and barely any green grass. The greenest part of the city is definitely the Ancient Agora at the foot of the Acropolis and overlooked by the Areopagus (see pic). As a family we were discussing what colours our two home countries were – what colours came to mind when we thought of them: Greece is the bright white of the sun shining off the white buildings and marble steps and paving slabs in the city centre; the bright blue of the sky; the olive green of the, erm, olive trees and other vegetation and the pale brown of the sun-scorched earth. England (or Britain, if you like) was mostly green and grey: the dark green of the trees; the deep green of lush grass; the grey-ey white of the clouds not quite ready to rain on us; the dark grey of the roads not bleached by the sun and browny-red, the browny-red of the red-brick buildings and roof-tiles.

Athens is built-up with busy roads and relentless noise. Although it’s sunny most of the time we are usually in shade because most buildings are 5 or 6 storeys high. The roads are broad and packed and the pavements are narrow – so it always feels crowded. The city has population about ½ the size of London packed into a space ¼ the size – so it’s DENSE! With the exception of businesses in the city centre, most places are open from 8ish til 2.30ish Monday to Saturday and re-open from 5ish til 9ish Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. There are very few places open on Sundays – mostly περίπτερα (periptera – kiosks), ζαχαροπλαστεία (zakaroplastia – patisseries), and flower shops – which are generally open when other places aren’t, to service the visiting periods… We live around the corner from most of the shops we’d ever need: supermarkets, cafés, bakery, clothes shops, etc I guess that’s big city life – very convenient! Joel and Hannah are at school 8ish til 12ish, so the mornings are quiet! We have enforced quiet time between 2.30 and 5 (mostly for the sake of our neighbours), with the kids ‘down’ and ‘away’ (reading quietly in a corner or sleeping in their beds) for about an hour and a half of that time. Bedtime for all of us is about the same as it would be in the UK (730/8ish for the kids, 1130ish – but aspiring to be earlier! – for us!). Cafés, bars and restaurants are open til late (at least midnight) and are generally chilled out but smoky. In terms of transport, we get around on buses and the metro which makes it impossible to blend in when we’re all together (the children talk loudly in English!). It’s cheap – 80 cents for a 90 minute ticket – and convenient and there isn’t enough space outside our house for another parked car anyway! We are able to borrow a car from Greek friends at church or missionary friends who live up the hill in Zografou for trips to the airport, the beach or IKEA! The only other immediate thing to say about Athens is that no building is the same as the next. There is absolutely no uniformity in the planning and building of this city. When a building needs replacing its neighbouring buildings are fortified and the building is carefully demolished and replaced. Only the outer-reaches of suburban Athens have anything remotely like housing estates, and even there it is quite rare.

Our friend Maria (the wife of our ‘boss’, Thanos) and her eldest daughter, Myrto, visited England in July and that has made me think all the more about the differences between the countries. Beeston is quiet. Our house is in the Rylands, one of the quietest parts of the town, and the contrast is stark. The roads are all wide and open and even in the rush-hour traffic of University Boulevard it is somehow calmer and less frenetic than Athens. It was great to go into Nottingham city centre for a day – we used the bus (first time as a family!) and found it VERY convenient! – and good to experience smoke-free pub lunches! It was also good to see that Costa coffee in the city centre is now open til 8! Café lifestyle is so much an all-day, all-evening thing here – the local Starbucks (3 mins walk up the hill) is open til 1130 – that I still find it unbelievable that cafés in the UK aren’t up for staying open later. Most of all (in objective terms) we love the green (have we said that before?!)! Maria took LOADS of photos of trees, bushes and grass when she visited – it’s just SUCH a contrast to Athens and Greece. As we flew into Gatwick I LOVED seeing all those lovely almost-square fields lined with green bushes and green trees. We even flew over the village I grew up in (where my parents still live) and saw park land and playing fields. The uniformity of buildings and streets is so comforting and easy on the eye…

Finally (sorry, I could ‘talk’ for hours about such things…), here are a few tips for anyone visiting Greece/Athens and the British alternatives (for those unfamiliar with British ways):

• Yes and No. Greek people will make TINY head gestures indicating a positive or negative response. A slight tilt to one side for yes and a sharp upward movement (often with a puckered-lip tut) for no. This is especially difficult when hailing a taxi: you need to be vigilant – as the taxi slows and you shout your destination, watch the driver’s head carefully, hesitation might cause frustration and embarrassment (even more so when you misread it and try to open the door of a taxi that’s not stopping! British people tend to speak first and only occasionally give a nod or shake of the head (often for emphasis).
  
• Paying at a till and change. This is especially true in supermarkets, but people in Greece generally like you to have the right change. I have no idea if this has any historical origin but if you have to pay, say, €8.80 for something, they will ask you if you have the 80 cents – especially if you pay with anything more than a €10 note. And you put the money on the counter (there is often a helpful scoop section) and not into the shop assistant’s hand. I had a reverse-culture-shock moment in Luton airport in June: I was in WHSmith’s and was scrabbling around in my purse for exactly £8.65 (just in case I had it!), laying money on the counter and eventually apologising that I only had £8.70. The shop assistant wasn’t that pleased that she had to pick up all that change and a little incredulous that I’d gone to so much trouble. Oddly paying money into the hand of the shop assistant is a rare way in which the British are more tactile than Greeks!
  
• Getting on and off transport. Most Mediterranean nationalities don’t queue unless they are made to. When they are made to queue (in the post office or bank) they are remarkably patient and calm. Bus, tram and metro stops are, however, a free-for-all. As soon as the bus/tram/train stops people are generally trying to get on, often pushing past you as you try to get off. This was particularly ridiculous on our first ever visit when we used the metro every day and had Joel (almost 2) and Hannah (5 months) in a double-pushchair. It was almost impossible for anyone to get on before we got off and yet people were always trying to clamber over the pushchair or squeeze past (occasionally losing some ankle skin in the process!). I still struggle to remember that it’s not rude to do so in Greece – it’s not expected, so why do it. It feels rude and thoughtless, so it’s especially nice when people help me off with the pushchair or the shopping, or both!
  
• Washing your hands. Athens is a dusty city and it seems that most Greek visitors to our house like to wash their hands on arrival. Not sure why. Maybe (probably) we’re just not as clean or hygienic as our friends… Maybe because Britain is less dusty and downstairs toilets are less common the practice is less common too.

If you ever come to visit as part of a mission team you will probably hear this again in a slightly re-jigged format. Apologies in advance for the repetition. Apologies too for the length of this entry but I hope it’s a bit of an insight into the differences in our lives.