Nairobi

One of the most beautiful cities in sub-Saharan Africa, Nairobi is a city of contrasts - of great wealth and great poverty, of things that are ugly and squalid with things that are gorgeously brilliant.

Byblos

From a recent trip to Byblos, Lebanon. The city which is about an hour's drive north of Beirut may be the oldest continually inhabited city in the world.

Easter

Every year it strikes me anew how in practically every instance when the resurrected Jesus appears to his disciples they do not recognize that it is He who is alive and well and present with them.

The Emmaus two, though their hearts burn within as he shares with them about Himself on the way, a rehearsal of the Scriptures of all that spoke of Himself, only recognize Him as He breaks bread and blesses it, sitting with them in the quiet hospitality of an early evening in their home.

Have you opened the door to Christ in the intimacy of your own heart and home?

Mary Magdalene, who is so loved and known by the Saviour, and with whom He seems to have had a special bond (without admitting any of the nonsense in such books as The Da Vinci Code), also fails to recognize Him. She thinks at first – looking up into the light of the tomb entrance through her tears, that it is only the gardener. And indeed it was – the Gardener, Creator and Sustainer of the earth. He calls her name – ‘Mary’ and she instantly knows that it is He.

Has Jesus called your name?

The Disciples, too, in the Upper Room scarcely believe that it is Jesus again before them, moving in, suddenly appearing, ghost-like in their presence. But with a little food, he eats and displays that He is alive again, wounds and all - into which precious scars the absent, doubting Thomas will one week later press his own hands, and be overwhelmed in faith and worship.

Have you encountered the risen Lord despite all the implausibility and your own doubts and fears?

Peter went back fishing. Even though he had seen the resurrected Lord, been with the disciples in the upper room, he can’t believe that Jesus would have anything further, really, to do with him, anything new now, for his action and bidding. He’d failed, miserably, denying his Lord, fleeing with the others when his fear overcame his love, just as earlier (O, what great promise he’d shown) he’d sunk beneath the waves when reality had seeped into his conscious. For by faith he’d walked on water – but one can’t walk on water (!) after all. He can’t honestly believe that God can forgive such miserable failure and denial.

But Jesus waited till Peter had caught nothing, expert fisher that he was, and directed him to try again on the other side of the boat – as if fish couldn’t swim to and fro beneath the heaving hulk. And suddenly there were more fish than Peter and his colleagues knew what to do with. ‘It is the Lord' – He knew instantly, casting his garments aside and swimming naked to the shore

(Nothing in my hand I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling; naked come to Thee for dress; helpless look to Thee for grace . . .).

And very soon Peter is restored completely in the love and service of the Master – commissioned for the impossibilities of the Christian life to which each of us is called.

Have you cast aside everything and made your way to Jesus?

And – I wonder how many times I have failed to see evidence of the Presence of the living Christ in the everydayness of my every day.

Holy Week

Holy Week reminds us of the death and resurrection of our Saviour. It’s like a long birth canal, this week, in that the Gospels reveal the story of the culturally contextualized, incarnational womb-like existence of Christ, embedded in the unique and particular ancient culture of Judaism - for thirty years, privately and then 3 years in public ministry.

As in childbirth, there is a period of excruciating pain (in the crux and crisis of the Cross) that soon gives birth to the new, resurrection life of the First of a whole new Race, the Second Adam, our Saviour, our Friend, the Firstborn, our Lord and Master - Jesus.

This is the One who overcomes the guilt and the bondage of the world and its citizens, the One who took the place of sinners that they might be set free – to be the fully human Creatures once again, and to the restored hope of a fully restored Creation one Day. He became ‘sin’ for us that through Him we might receive - indeed might become, the righteous and the righteousness of God.

This is the One who overcomes shame and blame. When reviled, accused, scorned, abused and spit upon (in the midst of a shame-culture, where blessing and cursing and ‘tit for tat’ was the norm), even then He opened not His mouth. Even though He was not to blame, He took the blame. He for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame . . .

This is the One who overcame fear. His perfect Love (for His Father, for the elect citizens of earth, for the world – ie. cosmos, itself) overcame fear. He came to that point in his ministry when, his time - his hour having come, He set His face like flint towards Jerusalem and toward all that would await Him there.

Thanks be to God for His incredible Gift !

St, Patrick's Day

I have two links with Irish roots in my family tree, from both my mother and father's sides of the family.

My mother's mother's mother's mother was Monica Kelly. Her parents were James Kelly and Mary Ann Connor (O'Connor). Though Monica was born in London, England, her parents were born in Cork Ireland. Mary ann Connor was the daughter of Owen Connor and Catherine Unknown, both from Cork, while James Kelly was the son of Edward Kelly and Monica Unknown. All of this gets me back to around the early 1800s

On my father's side, the name is Willoughby (not a popular name at some times in Irish history for, no doubt this English (and earlier, Norman) family was likely part of the 'subduing' of the Irish at the time of Cromwell who moved in ways both bloody and stupidly oppressive). There is the usual family story of being descended from a Lord and Lady Willoughby. My ancestor, Charles Willoughby came from Gorey, Wexford, with his wife, Sarah Langrill (whom he married in 1849), and with his family in about 1850. Their eldest daughter, Sarah, married my ancestor John Barber in Guelph, Ontario.

So, there's green in my blood . . .

I must say I'm interested in all public and media 'hoopla' as they visit pubs serving green beer and other incentives for a big drunk - and where there's singing, and Irish dancing and weekend parades. When interviewed everyone advows that they are Irish or wanna-be Irish for a day.

But nobody seems to know what St. Patrick was about or how 'the Irish saved civilization.' It's not so much that he explained the trinity if he did, supposedly, with a shamrock, or that he in some generic sense ‘brought Christianity to Ireland,’ and managed to rid the land of snakes - but that he introduced people to the saving life and work of Jesus Christ, God’s Son our Saviour, into which friendship, forgiveness and new relationship with God, hope for individuals, families, the land of Ireland - and through them many others in the world, this new Life was made possible.