Nancy and I spent Christmas 2006 in Rome. We flew from Tirana, Albania, to the Italian capital on Christmas Eve day and spent two days there before meeting JJ and driving through northern Italy. We heard the bells of Rome peal at midnight, announcing the birth of the Savior, and stood in Vatican Square twice to see and hear the Pope address the world. A memorable Christmas.

We spent Christmas 2007 in Greensboro. We were with family—Emily, Steve and Colette, JJ (en route to Phoenix from Tacoma), and Steve’s mother. Quite a different Christmas and quite a wonderful one.


But Christmas eve day, as in 2007, saw Nancy and I in the air, flying not from Tirana to Rome but from Merida, Mexico to Greensboro. We had been in Merida for only a couple days, and were there for a very special purpose—the wedding of Febe Pat, a long-standing friend and former Trainee at Calvin. Nancy and I had helped Febe through her theological training at San Pablo Seminary, and we had hosted her in our home in Shoreline. We had followed her life’s journey in prayer and I had been honored to be invited to deliver the sermon in the worship service which preceded the actual marriage ceremony. Our good friend Dave Legters was charged with tying the knot between Febe and Samuel.
In Christian circles in Mexico there are two weddings. One is the formal and legal one, which happens before a civil magistrate of some kind. These ceremonies are not considered the actual wedding by believers, but are occasions for celebration and joy. The Christian wedding is incorporated into a worship service some time after the civil ceremony, and to the couple it is this service which constitutes their union.
Febe’s wedding was a true celebration, held in the church she had grown up in, the village of Yobain. Her husband-to-be is active in leadership of a Presbyterian church in his home village, works in the local school, and is highly respected in the community. Febe’s impact on many people was witnessed to by the number who came from the villages in which she has worked. At one point in the ceremony people were invited to stand and state where they came from, and every campo (i.e. field-work location) Febe had worked in was represented in good numbers. It was obvious that many wanted to share in the celebration and witness to the impact for Christ she had made on their lives.
It is customary for the bride and groom to sit for the worship service in special chairs set up directly in front of the pulpit. The parents of both are also seated in special chairs, two on each side of the couple. My message was to address the entire congregation, but the wedding family was front and center. The service following the worship was simple—an exchange of vows, rings, and prayer. Then there was the processional, throwing of rice, photos, and a gala fiesta with food and music lasting until well after 12:30 a.m., when our party left to drive back to Merida. All in all it was a wonderful celebration of two people who are committed to Christ making a commitment to serve him together.

The next morning, Sunday, Nancy and I went to a special musical service at a small local church in Merida. The music was presented by the choir from the main downtown Presbyterian Church, El Divino Salvador, the choir which Jean Legters accompanies. The presentation was a kind of dress rehearsal for the big Christmas eve presentation in the main church, and was a joy to share in.


After that, in the evening, Nancy went to the church Dave Legters pastors, where there was a traditional Christmas presentation, while I drove two hours out of Merida to take Dave Pluckett to a Presbyterian Medical Clinic in Xochempich, the village in which Dave Legters was raised. Dave’s father was a pioneer missionary who shared ministry and vision with Cam Townsend, the founder of Wycliffe. He lived in the village of Xochempich and was the first to translate the Bible into Maya. The homesite he raised Dave in and from which he worked was later converted into a medical clinic, and Dave Pluckett, who is president of Positive Images, Prosthetics and Orthotics, was going there to consult with two people whom he had fitted with artificial limbs. As I sat outside the clinic in the peaceful calm of a warm tropical evening, I could not help thinking about what Dave was doing as a personal ministry in the name of Christ, literally helping the lame to walk.

What a prelude to Christmas. A joyful wedding uniting two in Christ, a service of songs of praise to the One who was born to give us new life, and a ministry of giving hope and health to the poor in the name of that One. Although Dave and I ran out of gas on the lonely highway back to Merida (another story for another time perhaps), that could not dampen my appreciation and thanksgiving to God for all he continues to allow me to see and do. Truly life in Christ is life In His Adventures.

Yesterday Nancy and I drove to Asheville, North Carolina. Situated on the beautiful Blue Ridge the town is the home of Billy Graham's retreat center, The Cove. It is also the site of the largest private home in the United States, The Biltmore Estate. Constructed by George Vnaderbilt between 1890 and 1896, it has four floors, 250 rooms and a floor space of over 175,000 square feet. Its massive size is obviously impressive, but the attention to detail in every room, plus the meticulous upkeep that has maintained or restored every nook and cranny to its original grandeur, made it quite a site to tour.

But the reason for our visit was the highlight of the day and night away, not the great home. Nancy and I were there as a short time away to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary. I have known and honored many people who have celebrated 50 or more years of marriage, but 40 isn't too bad.

When people ask about longevity of marriage I first respond with the wisdom shared with me by Dich Scheumann. He said that the key to marital harmony is summarized in two small words, words that every husband needs to learn and repeat over and over, "Yes, dear." And there is more than a grain of truth to that!

But there are other keys as well, with the first being a common commitment to the person of Jesus Christ. When Jesus is the center of any relationship the ego factor is taken out of the middle. No longer is it my will or my idea or my plan versus the other, but it is his will and his idea and his plan. When self-center, for one person or for a couple, changes to him-center, everything changes!

The second thing that I believe creates longevity in marriage is a common commitment to ministry. One of the questions I ask engaged couples is what they can do for God as a couple that neither of them could do alone. Defining that ministry and seeking together to pursue it is a second key.

A third key to long lasting relationships is simple integrity. That means that a promise made will not be broken. If one says to another "I do" and "I will" then integrity calls for that promise, as a word given, to be kept. And those words are exchanged in a wedding ceremony, and need to be kept. Simple!

Marriage is given us by God. It is one of his first and greatest gifts to humanity, and it is one of the gifts most attacked by Satan, because it is so integral to who we are. It is not given to everyone, not even the great Apostle Paul was married, and it is has difficult seasons. But it is often wonderful. It takes humor, grace, attention, and hard work. It requires a willingness to admit one is wrong and an ability to forgive. It means putting another above self, something our culture derides as foolish. It means sacrifice. It means many things and requires much effort--probably more effort than building a 175,000 square foot house. But when it is God's plan for a person, it is worth all the work and effort it takes to make it work...And it is a beautiful thing...

Genesis 2:18 The Lord God said, "It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him...then the Lord God made a woman..."

Last week I had the privilege of sharing in a celebration. It was a celebration of the life of a good friend and of the promise of resurrection. That friend was Andy Montana, and he died early Thanksgiving morning after a lengthy battle with disease. Andy was a chemist par-excellence, a university professor and co-developer of a computer-based chemistry curriculum. With a smile on his face he had told me that his motivation for developing this material was, “It is a lot better to blow something up in a computer program than in the chem. Lab.” How true…

It is ironic that at memorial services we learn so much about people we thought we knew well. But usually our data about a person comes from only one slice of their lives, one time or one place. We know them as a teacher or a student or a fishing buddy or a pastor or parishioner or whatever, but there are always other people who know the same person from a different perspective, in a different place and role. And when a memorial service invites people to share memories a whole lot comes out that makes the person much more multi-faceted than we alone could ever know. Such was the case last week as long-time friends and new acquaintances alike shared with all the moments that stood out in their memories of Andy.



Over the years I have been a pastor people have often asked about my feelings regarding performing funerals/memorial services. My semi-stock answer has always been, “I’d rather do a good funeral than a bad marriage any day…” And that is absolutely true—because one is final while the other could be just a beginning of a long and tragic period. But this raises the question, what makes a good funeral? And to me the answer is pretty simple, and it is reduced to three basics.

First, a good funeral is one which remembers someone who has made a positive difference in the lives of those he or she came in contact with. Of course this includes the immediate family cluster, but I look beyond that circle to see how the life we are remembering impacted other people outside the family. And particularly I listen for words from people whose relationship with the deceased reflects an intentional reaching out on the part of the one being remembered. To me this indicates a life that consciously gave to others.

The second thing that I believe makes a good funeral is one in which the things a person is remembered for move beyond the inconsequential. By this I mean that the things noted at a service indicate that the person offered something of substance to the world and other people in it. Gardens are good and golf is fine, but there is more to life than those, and people whose lives intersect with other people at these more substantial points leave behind the most lasting and positive memories. They leave behind impressions and imprints on people that make the living better people than they would have been had the deceased not been part of their lives. And when those things are noted in a service it can be a good one.

The third thing that I believe makes a good funeral is a clear and honest declaration of the motive behind the life that is being honored, and that motive is Jesus Christ. Grief is an important part of a funeral service, and its absence speaks volumes. But the gospel is that death, while a bitter enemy, is a defeated enemy—and defeated by Jesus on the cross and in the empty tomb. Most memorial services reflect some hope in a positive after-life for the deceased, but too often that hope is some vague and undefined feeling. When Christ is honored, on the other hand, hope is grounded in the great reality of resurrection—it is not just wishful thinking but promise-claiming. And when a person has lived a life for Christ and in Christ then through Christ there is resurrection. And a clear affirmation of the deceased person’s faith in Christ and trust in his promises lifts a memorial service beyond one in which the deceased is remembered to one in which the greatest hope of humanity is celebrated.



Because of these feelings, I have a specific form of service that I have usually used, and that I commend as the most helpful and appropriate in a time of loss. The first thing is to have any graveside/internment component prior to the service in the church. The second is to have a short message end the service in the church. It has always seemed to me to be contradictory to move from a church or chapel where Christ’s message and its resurrection hope have been presented to a graveyard. The Scripture of hope and a message of promise should be the last words that ring in the ears of those who attend a service. The eulogies and personal comments are important, as is the emotional symbolism of a grave, but the last word should be resurrection—a celebration of that promise and a challenge to those present to consider their lives in its light.

The words of Jesus, spoken long ago, are the most important words that could be spoken in any memorial service, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.” And the question that he appended to it, “Do you believe this?”, should be echoing in the ears of every attendee as they leave… When that happens, a funeral can be truly labeled a good service.

The last several days have been beautiful. The fall colors are fading a bit, but they are still glorious, the temperature is in the high 60’s and the skies are clear. Each morning arrives cold and crisp, perhaps with frost on the exposed car windows, but as the sun rises the frost retreats and warmth takes over. They say that we are in the midst of a major drought here in North Carolina, with some record keepers indicating that reservoir water tables are at their lowest ever, which is a problem. But the upside is the glorious days, and they are worth appreciating.

A season like this is perfect for cycling, and I have taken advantage of it a bit. Having been blessed with the opportunity to take several fall cycling trips over the years, the Barcelona to London trek Brian and I made in October was wonderful but not unusual. The part that is unusual is that my customary regime on returning from such trips has been to leave the bike in its airline box until the spring—being a fair-weather cyclist that made sense in Seattle. But this time the bike is out, the roads are waiting, and the weather is perfect. I guess that is one advantage of living where we now live.

As I go around the area on my bike I do get to see and feel and smell what the countryside is like, and it is beautiful in this season. It is also dotted with reminders of its history that stand side by side with monuments to the economic growth of the recent decades. Dorothy Silkwood, a dear and wise Calvin friend, once told Nancy that one of the main differences between the west and the east/south is that in the west people define themselves in terms of geography while in the east/south people define themselves in terms of history. That makes a lot of sense to me as I ply the byways near Greensboro—there is just not any geological or geographical grandeur to make a place stand out. But history is here, and that history makes the places impressive. It is history on a grand scale, with sites marking battles in the Revolutionary and Civil Wars and important events in the Civil Rights movement. But it is also history of individuals and families, history that is not in texts but is in lives.


Today I stopped to photograph an old abandoned building. It must have been a farmhouse many years ago, and undoubtedly has a story to tell. Then a few hundred yards farther along the road I stopped to photograph a newly built home. It too has a story to tell, but a very different one I am sure. Neither place is framed by a snow-capped peak nor can one linger on either back porch and admire the beauty of Puget Sound, but in their history each has its interest.


The Hebrew people are a geographical people, a people of the land—a land. They received a specific promise regarding a specific location, and it was fulfilled by God. They are also a people of history. Their existence is rooted in a story that is neither myth nor imagination, but hard and fast facts. Those facts are recited regularly by Jews down to today, and in that recitation an identity is established and passed on. As believers in Christ we are today’s recipients of those promises, and of that history. We are a people for whom place is important—particularly the commonwealth that we are to receive, that culmination of the reality of our citizenship that is in heaven (Philippians 3:20). And we are a people of history. Our identity is defined by history, a history of crucifixion and resurrection, an event that we remember each year at Lent and each time we celebrate the Lord’s Supper. It is also defined by an historical event that we are about to celebrate once again, the incarnation—that is Christmas.

So, as we pass through Thanksgiving into the Advent season, let us remember who we are. Let us remember that we are a people for whom both geography and history are important. We have a place and we have a past—and our future is a fulfillment, a consummation, a destination toward which both point.

Today has been one of those days that are hard to improve on. It began as a cold, crisp and clear fall morning. The sky was cloudless and its rich blue made the colors of the autumn leaves stand out with particular clarity and brilliance. I looked for a corner of our little house that would be a good place to start the day


in quiet reading and prayer, and found it outside, looking at the trees reflecting in the still water of our small pond. It was cold, but sitting on a chair on our new slate covered porch, admiring the wonderful plantings that our landscaper had put in just the week before, seeing that the geese have returned for the winter, and watching the squirrels do their squirrely thing, was just right.
BEFORE AND AFTER LANDSCAPING




Then there was a good church service in one of the several Presbyterian churches that Nancy and I are considering becoming a part of, and after that lunch with daughter and granddaughter. After lunch we all realized that the temperature had risen to just below 70, so a stroll with granddaughter, a visit with a neighbor, then a bike ride through the suburbs, forests and farmlands of this part of the world.

Later today there will be a few small household tasks, dinner and who knows what. But the point is that life is good here in North Carolina. Our recent visit to Shoreline was full of joy for Nancy and me, as we were able to see and visit with many of our good friends there. We miss them and we miss the church there and we miss the beauty of the mountains and the sea. When we left that area we wondered if we would ever live in such a spectacular setting again.

But especially in this season of colors Greensboro is hard to beat. Years ago Nancy and I were in Princeton while I attended Princeton Theological Seminary. I had field work on weekends in a church in Flemington, NJ, a town not far from Princeton. I well remember driving out to the town on fall mornings, watching the red, gold and orange colored leaves billow behind us as we went down the road. That is what it is like here and now. Where we live is quiet, except for airplanes coming in to land in the local airport and leaf blowers moving leaves from lawn to street, (where the city will sweep them up). It is also beautiful—particularly in this season. And as we walk, cycle or just sit at home, that beauty is all around us.



And this beauty reminds me of the nature of God’s creation. God could have made the world simple and practical, but he chose to make it complex and beautiful. He gave us land to till and flowers and trees on that land to enjoy. He gave us food to eat and tastes and aromas that make those foods delicious. He made us one people but male and female with different colors and languages and customs. Moving from the west to the south-east has highlighted some of the differences for Nancy and me. At the same time it has heightened our appreciation for each place. There truly is beauty wherever we are. That is one of the many gifts of God. And we are blessed and we are grateful for that beauty—Praise be to God!

Nancy and I are currently enjoying several days back in Seattle, visiting friends and family. Today we enjoyed a wonderful worship service at Calvin, the church I served for almost twenty years. It was a great time to re-connect with friends, share hugs, and show pictures of our granddaughter and our Greensboro home, as well as to learn about the ways God is working in the lives of people here. While it has been over a year since we left Shoreline, the community that came to mean so much to us has not lost any of its significance to us. Friends with whom we have shared life and ministry for so long and so wonderfully are friends forever, and we are thankful to God for them. Our paths may be different and though we are far apart, as we continue to pray for each other we continue to minister as one!

Since I began posting this blog I have been gratified and affirmed by the feedback which it has elicited. While I have focused on where and what the Ackles are doing, I have tried to make it more than just a "what we did last summer" kind of blog, and comments I have received seem to say that this is appreciated. A component that I have not included, however, is any of the material which I have prepared or am preparing for the various classes which I am teaching. I do not know if this would be of interest to anyone or not, but I am praying about starting to include some of the lessons on the Parables of Jesus, the Letters of Paul, or whatever I am working on. If any reader has feedback on the advisability of this, please use the comment feature on the blog to let me know.

Two days ago Nancy and I took a drive into the Appalachian Mountains, along the Blue Ridge Parkway. This year has been a drought year for North Carolina, but the splendor of God’s creation was still evident. The colors were glorious, the sky brilliant blue and places like Blowing Rock and Boone (as in Daniel Boone) not that crowded. While a brief one-way discussion with a State Trooper over the speed laws in North Carolina did take a bit of the edge off the glory of the day, it was still wonderful. And that negative surprise was counter-balanced by the positive surprise of finding that a specialty of our Carolina BBQ lunch stop was home-made pecan ice cream that is regularly fast-shipped to President Bush’s ranch in Texas. Expensive but truly worth it!



On a completely different note, just for fun the other day I tried a Google search on my name, and I am not so sure it was a good idea. While what I came up with was not as long a listing as many names would produce, everything Google displayed, with one exception, was about one thing. And the few words about that one thing were misleading in their brevity. My search showed that the only thing I am known for, at least in the Google world (and that world is very large), is for court proceedings in which my name, the church, the Presbytery Executive, and Presbytery are associated with sexual harassment.

Now this is not a pleasant association to be appear whenever one searches for my name on the internet, in fact it is downright degrading. And it highlights one of the downsides of internet searching, which is the difficulty of communicating accurately in two lines. After all, after seeing my name associated with such headlines who would bother to explore further? Who would take time to find out the whole truth? Who would leave the search with other than a question or a conclusion based on two lines on a computer screen?

So, I have pondered about what could be done about this. And I have two conclusions. The first is to become so famous that this theme is buried in an avalanche of other, and more interesting information. Perhaps I could do something that would change the world, solve the problem of global warming, or bring peace to the Middle East. That surely would at least add to the mass of articles that the Google algorithm would sift through, and some hits would be flattering. But that probably is not forthcoming—my fault…

The other way is for someone to put the truth into the public arena in such a way that it would draw the search engine to display another set of facts. I would love to see someone publish something like this, “After an exhaustive months-long investigation into allegations made by a colleague, a specially constituted and trained church panel of six men and women, made up of both clergy and laity, unanimously reached the conclusion that the evidence presented with the allegations did not support any charge against Will Ackles.” In the Presbyterian Church anyone can make any allegations against anyone else, but those allegations are then tested by an investigating committee to determine if there is any credibility to them. If there is, then charges are filed. If not, then no charges are filed. The conclusion of the committee investigating Rev. Ackles was that no charges of any kind were in order, and on appeal this was upheld by the next higher court of the church. The second way to counter the impression that Google searching presents would be for those who know these facts to place them in the public arena, but evidently that is not going to happen—not my fault…

So, what is the point of this musing? Simply to underscore the importance of the truth. Simply to encourage all to speak the truth and to counter false or misleading information when it appears--and to do it in ways that are effective in the world in which we now live. I believe that as old as the ninth commandment is it still holds true, and especially true for that thing which is most precious of all to every man and woman—his or her name… The Westminster Shorter Catechism articulated it clearly when it said, The ninth commandment requires the maintaining and promoting of truth between man and man, and of our own and our neighbor's good name, especially in witness-bearing. That may not be the norm in the world, but it ought to be the norm between believers, and in the church.

It was almost four months ago that Nancy and I flew out of Greensboro, North Carolina, to Dublin, Ireland. In those months I have been wonderfully blessed, challenged and engaged by some most interesting people in some most interesting places.
Our first stop lasted just about two months. Living in The Attic, a cozy apartment on the top floor of Adelaide Road Presbyterian Church, we were just two blocks off St. Stephen’s Green (the central park of Dublin--site of many enjoyable walks and noontime concerts) and had a wonderful vantage point from which to observe and participate in the life of that great European city. The congregation of Adelaide Road had just lost its pastor of many years, and was beginning a search for his successor. The church presents a serious challenge for the congregation and new pastor, located where it is in the center of the City, but that challenge is matched by the opportunities it has to live out the gospel and present Christ to the students, expatriate workers and immigrants, as well as native Dubliners, who scurry past the front door every week day. Every Sunday over half of the congregation is international, and on Sunday afternoon one of the largest Korean churches in Europe meets in its sanctuary. And the leaders of the church are deeply committed to finding ways to minister that heterogeneous population plus all the others. In a traditionally Catholic country, but one which has become alienated from that church by events of the past decade, the future of the gospel is shared with all believers, and God is at work.

After preaching in Dublin for two months, with regular forays into other parts of the Irish countryside, Nancy flew home (with family who had come to visit) while I headed south to Barcelona, Spain, for a month-long cycling adventure. Tour de France
climbs over several Pyrenean passes marked the beginning of Brian and my trek, then for weeks we headed north through the farm land of western France. The weather was perfect, the roads were calm, and the scenery picturesque.
The ending point for me was Gatwick (London), where, after a wind-aided rapid cycle through southern England, I boarded a plane to the US and a surprise short week touching base with our home. Then off again to N. Ireland and Albania, where for two weeks I taught in
Udhekryq Bible School, located in Erseke, a village in southern Albania. For the first several days in Albania, Nancy stayed in Tirana, the capital, where she renewed friendships with people from last year and offered several English Language

Methodology seminars in the local University. She then joined me in Erseke for rest of the time. While at the school we were privileged to live in an apartment with Fred and Margie Strock, 50 year veteran missionaries in Pakistan. We also got to know the leaders of the school, and their church and mountain camping facility. We walked through the camp area they used for 1,000 youth this past summer, and also walked through the larger area they hope to purchase for an expanded ministry. These are people with quite a challenge and even greater commitment and vision!

Our final stop in Albania was at the church we had shared in while there for five months under Nancy’s Fulbright assignment. In just a couple hours there, we were blessed by the pastor, Barry, and the congregation, many of whom recognized us and greeted us warmly. We were also gifted with a trip with our hosts to the north of Albania, driving literally to the end of the road to the point where Montenegro begins. That area is rugged Balkan territory, but our lunch was just outside the city of Shkodra, on the shores of the largest lake in the Balkans, in as beautiful a setting as you could imagine.

I am writing this sitting just outside our bedroom, at the back of our new little house. I am looking out over out pond, which is glistening in the morning light, and into the trees of the forest behind us. Our youngest daughter, JJ, greeted us when we returned from Albania, and is here for just a couple days en route back to Tacoma from Washington, DC. Our other daughter, Emily, and her husband and their daughter, Colette, have been here every day since we returned. The peaceful morning, following three days of record-setting rain (needed because of a months-long drought) and the prospect of all of us being together is a wonderful thought. From Greensboro to Ireland to N. Ireland to Spain to France to England has been a grand adventure. We have new friends for eternity plus, by the grace of God, have been able to make a bit of difference in some lives along the way. We have been challenged and we have had a great time. We are thankful to God for all and in all. Truly his hand has guided and is guiding—and that hand is the hand of a loving Father who continues to bless, who continues to be the One the Psalmist sang about in Psalm 31:19, How great is your goodness.

Spanish Pyrenees/Pass between Spain and France




He was probably in his mid twenties and he was traveling fast. He had a big smile on his face and his hair was streaming behind him in the wind that his downhill run was creating. As he passed me he turned and shouted Allez! Allez!, which, pronounced Allay! Allay!, is the classic cyclists’ word of encouragement and camaraderie. I managed to grunt out a half-hearted responsive Allez to him, but just barely—and only one. You see I was on my bicycle on the cusp of the hardest part of the uphill climb to the col (summit) from which he was descending, the col de Peyresourde, one of the famous cols traversed often by the Tour de France. Brian and I had chosen our route from Barcelona to Brittany with one purpose being to cross one or more of these famous cols and that is what we were doing.

Looking back from the top of the Col de Peyresourde

As the young smiling rider passed me I once again faced the profound question—Why am I doing this? The day was warm, the climb had already been long and grueling and I had far to go to reach the top. I had chosen this route, paid money to fly to Barcelona, and was taking time I could spend in other ways, and all to face what was one of several torturous days in the Pyrenees. My encourager was in his twenties, I am facing 64 years old at my next birthday. He was free of any gear besides his bike, and I was carrying all the gear I would need for three weeks cycling. He was fit and trim and I was only hoping to get somewhere close to that as the days would proceed. I was hurting and he was smiling. Why am I doing this?

French Countryside
Fast forward now to two weeks later. It is a perfect autumn day and Brian and I are cycling along the south bank of the Loire River. The river itself is not visible most of the time, but farms and fields and forests are all around us, and the colors of autumn are beginning to show. There is a slight breeze at my back and the skies are brilliant blue and the air crisp but not cold. There is no pain and no torturous path awaiting me, all day will be like this. And with this day my earlier question is answered. With this day the earlier climb makes sense, and with this day the whole comes into focus.

And that focus is not simply that the idyllic days make up for the painful ones, or that it is worth enduring the hardship as a necessary adjunct to the pleasant, but rather it is that the different parts that make the whole so rich. At the end of the trip some of the suffering will fade and the reality of having made it to the top—and on for weeks longer—will be as rewarding a memory as the recollections of the tranquil days nearly effortlessly cycling through the fields of France. The views from the top of high passes to the valleys below will be as memorable as the vast fields of sunflowers and corn drying in the fading sunlight. The easy and the hard, the beautiful and the not so beautiful, the verdant and the dry, the suffering and the pleasure, it is all part of the journey, and all together it makes the trip so much richer.

Brian Enjoys a French Snack

And that is like life, and particularly the life of the believer. It is the whole which, when seen as part of the journey of faith, makes it so rich. It is the hard and the easy, the painful and the pleasurable, all together, when seen as part of God’s call and God’s path, that form a collage of beauty and worth. It is the cross and the crown that come as a package, that together make up the stuff of the abundant life that Jesus said he came to bring. And it is the recognition of this that causes us to keep on in our journey of faith—and even pray for the strength for more, even to plan another trip over new mountains and through new meadows…

French B & B

I have just returned to Greensboro for a week before heading off to Albania next thursday. Difficulties in accessing computers in France prevented reports from the road on the cycle trip referred to here, but here is a bit of what happened on the road from Barcelona to London.....

Fields, Forests and Farms of South-West France


French Castle Turned B&B

The past week has been taken up with family time—and it has been great! Emily, Steve and Colette arrived last Tuesday, and since then we have visited and revisited sites around both Dublin and Northern Ireland. Traveling with a one year old is an experience I have not had for many years, and while it does have its difficult moments, I love it. They brought a stroller with them, and it is used some times, but most of the time Colette is with grandpa—either walking along holding a finger or being carried. Tough life!

Our visit to the North was highlighted by a time with the Bruces, the family that served at Calvin while I was in Lisburn four years ago. They are all well, and said to be sure to say hello to all the Calvin folk. David has taken a new position, moving from Scripture Union to the headquarters of the Presbyterian Church of Ireland. He is in charge of Home Missions, which means he has some pretty significant responsibilities related to the whole of the work of the church. Let’s remember him in prayer…
During our visit in Lisburn Nancy and I were hosted by Brian and Andrea. Brian is my co-cyclist with whom I will begin pedaling in just a few days. We will fly to Barcelona then cycle north to the north coast of France, working our way up and over and through the Pyrenees—following some of the routes the Tour de France regularly uses. We are hoping for good weather and trusting that we will be able to make it up the hills that the pros climb, although our speed will probably be just a little less than theirs.
At Lisburn we also attended the Sunday evening service, got to see friends there, and then headed north to the cottage of another Lisburn friend, the Clerk of Session while Nancy and I were there, John Millar. Nancy and I had been there before, and I knew that it would be a perfect place for the visitors from the US to have a bit of rest and enjoy the best of Irish scenery. That is what happened. We walked the beach, crossed the famous Carrick-a-Rede rope bridge, clambered on the basalt columns of the Giants Causeway, and introduced Colette to cows and blackberries. The cottage is situated on a rise above White Park Bay, with a view of the beach and a panorama to the north, east and west. What a treat it was to be there!



Now the rest of the family is in London for a couple days while I have returned to Dublin for the final “duties” of teaching and preaching. Our time in Dublin has been wonderful, and as it draws to a close we look back with thanksgiving to God for the opportunity to be here, serve, learn and get to know more people with whom we will have contacts for years to come.

One of the interesting aspects in moving from Seattle to Greensboro is the perspective on history which we have moved in to. While the history around Seattle is interesting, particularly that of the interaction between Native Americans and early settlers, from the perspective of North Carolina all that is modern history.

Now we live (when we are at home) only a mile from the site of one of the turning points in the Revolutionary War—our home is just off Old Battleground Way and near New Garden Road, a strip of asphalt that covers the marching line of the British soldiers as they headed north to encounter the Continental Army. Downtown Greensboro has a plaque noting where the government of the Confederacy met on several occasions, and the Woolworth on Elm Street (Main Street) is the site of the first sit-in during the Civil Rights movement. The roots in the south are deep.


But after a little time in Ireland, this history migrates into the folder entitled Recent Events. As I have noted before, we have visited burial sites dating back between four and five thousand years, walked past St. Patrick’s well, visited the landing place of the Vikings, and strolled in the central courtyard of an English castle built in the twelfth century. Around the corner from us is the Bleeding Horse Pub which bears a plaque honoring its foundation in 1649, just up the street is a public library founded in 1701 (Marsh’s Library, containing some of Jonathan Swift’s collection), and a church that is only 500 years old is not worth a footnote in the historical record of the area. The roots here are much deeper.

But being surrounded by the past does not mean being limited to the past, and the fascination of this place in this time is at least to a large part in the dynamics of today. Entry into the EU changed the face of Ireland, and moved it from the sideline to the center. The infrastructure was developed, high-tech and low-tech industries grew and prices skyrocketed. People from all over the world have flocked to Ireland, many of them students or professional people, in fact so many that a recent mapping of Dublin was striking in the amount of red—red meaning over half of the current residents were not born in Ireland. All of this is behind the description of Ireland as the Celtic Tiger.


Yet even this more recent history is giving way to news that this part of the world continues to change. Three signs of this have appeared in the headlines recently. One is the dramatic change in the public behavior of Dr. Ian Paisley, the most vocal proponent of maintaining the union of Northern Ireland and Great Britain, and Gerry Adams, the leader of Sinn Fein, the party most committed to a united Ireland. In the past month they have sat together, laughed together and worked together as they both bear positions of leadership in a newly constituted Northern Ireland Assembly.
People in the north and south are amazed at this turn of events, and believers attribute it to a work of God in answer to prayers for peace on the island.

The second is an announcement last week that Aer Lingus, a global symbol and national pride of the Republic of Ireland, is going to abandon its Shannon, Ireland, routes and open new ones in Belfast, Northern Ireland. The people and politicians of Ireland are incensed at this move, the Irish clergy have issued a letter decrying the prioritization of profits over people, but it is a sign of the changing times.

Finally, Nancy and I spent an hour one recent afternoon greeting a Viking ship, the Sea Stallion, as it sailed and rowed into Dublin Harbor. This ship was built in the Viking Ship Museum in Denmark and built to show how Viking vessels would have appeared over a thousand years ago. The interest in this ship stemmed from the 1962 discovery in Denmark of five Viking ships, with the subsequent determination that one of them had been constructed in the Dublin area. This discovery spurred an interest in Viking sailing by historians, the ship was built using ancient techniques, and the crew of 60 sailed it from Denmark to Dublin. As a social experiment (60 people in an open boat with no privacy) the project was of interest to many, but as an historical statement it was to others. The dock this afternoon was lined with thousands of people, dignitaries from several countries, television and other media—all there to greet a ship reminiscent of ones that 1,211 years ago arrived at the same site to raid, pillage and rob…


What do I make of all this? Well, one thing is that the gospel faces an accelerating challenge—speaking to people in a world that is rapidly changing. The second thing is that the gospel is relevant to the world at every stage, every step, and every point in history. The message of the love of God showed so clearly to humanity in the person and work of Jesus Christ is a timeless message. It has had a formative shaping power in the history of Ireland—and it can today. The gospel is not stamped with a time-date: Best if Used By …. It is time-less… And it is the believer’s job to show that to the world. So the author of Hebrews reminds us, Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.

Emily, Steve and Colette arrive in a few days. Then two more weeks and our time in Dublin will be over. It has been good.

Since returning to Dublin following a week away, we have been spending time visiting local sites and learning about the city and the nation. And it has been fascinating.

First we went to an ancient site called Newgrange. Located in the valley of the river Boyne, about 45 minutes north of Dublin, it is one of the oldest signs of human habitation in Ireland. The site includes three large stone mounds, each with an inside passageway that opens onto a burial chamber. We took the official tour of the site and learned that scientists have been able to discover almost nothing about the people who built the mounds, who was buried in them, or why they were built in the shape they have. There is writing in the passageway but no one knows what it means. The mounds are dated about 3000 BC, but beyond that nothing much is certain. Fascinating.

We then went to Dublinia, the Viking center of Dublin, and learned about the Vikings and the city. It seems that at the city of Dublin first became a city with the arrival of the Vikings at the end of the eighth century, and for several centuries it remained as such—separated from the rest of the country, which was made up of feuding clans of Irish with loyalty to one of the several kings. Gradually the Vikings blended with the surrounding population, but they maintained their important merchant and trading positions. On Good Friday, 1014, internal struggles between the several Irish provincial rulers boiled over into a battle at a place called Clontarf, a battle in which the Vikings joined with the soldiers of the area around Dublin (Leinstermen). Romanticists identify this battle as the end of the Viking era in Irish history, but many would say that it was more an internecine battle with the Vikings playing a part, and in fact the Vikings remained as a significant force in Dublin itself for many more years.


The next era we looked at was represented by the Dublin castle. This era began with what is called the Norman Invasion of 1169, an event which some would prefer to label as the Norman Invitation as it technically began with the English responding to a request of an Irish leader for help in his political ambitions. In any case the English arrived, settled into Dublin, built the castle on the site of an earlier primitive fortification, and began a centuries-long gradual expansion into the whole of the island.


Through all of this history, with its various forces and factors, a common thread of Christianity is woven. St. Patrick’s Cathedral, the largest church in Ireland, was built in the thirteenth century, replacing a small wooden church that had stood on the site of a well that the famous saint is said to have used to baptize new believers in the middle of the fifth century. Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin was probably founded around 1030 , and in a rare arrangement shared the status of cathedral with St. Patrick’s. Following the disestablishment of the Catholic church in Ireland both have retained the status of cathedral in the Church of Ireland, while Rome maintains St. Mary’s church as a Pro-Cathedral in recognition of their claim on Christ Church as the rightful seat of the Catholic Archbishop.
At Clonmacnoise, a monastery to the east of Dublin founded by St. Cirian, we walked on paths and entered ruins of a holy site built in the middle of the sixth century. Throughout the Republic reminders of the place of religion in the history of the island, such as shrines, monastic sites, cathedrals and The Book of Kells, abound. And it has been both a task and an interesting journey to see and walk in some of those places.


The more I learn the more I see there is to learn. When we leave Ireland we will know more than when we came, but we will also be aware of new puzzles and big gaps in our understanding that we never knew we had before. I guess that is the way it is supposed to be. It is like our growth in Christ—the more we know about him the more we know we do not know. In The Chronicles of Narnia one of the children made this profound observation about Aslan, the great lion and ruler of Narnia, The closer I get (to him) the bigger he grows. I find that to be true—do you?