If you are not interested in history, you will probably not get much out of what follows. But for those of you who are, I am sharing a bit of history about where Nancy and I currently live. As you read it you might see in it, and between the lines, some of the challenges and opportunities which this church faces. In many ways, obvious and not so obvious, history creates the context for ministry. In the United States that is not always clear and our relatively short existence as a nation may mute it, but it is still true for us. But it is particularly and powerfully true for people with deep roots in history, such as the Irish. As foreigners and short-termers Nancy and I are clearly limited as to what we understand, what we can do and what is appropriate for us to do, but God has given us a chance to minister here, it is a blessing to us, and we want it to be to the people here as well.



County Carlow, one of Ireland’s smallest counties, is bordered by the scenic Blackstairs Mountains to the east, the fertile limestone land of the Barrow Valley and the Killeshin Hills to the west. Carlow town, the most important town in the county, is about 60 miles south of Dublin. It was once a market town, a center where surrounding farmers would come to sell their produce at the central Haymarket or the surrounding Potato Market and Butter Market . During the 1798 Rising (against the British) Carlow was the scene of an infamous massacre of 600 rebels and citizens, an event memorialized in the Liberty Tree sculpture which stands in the center of the town. Also in the center of the town rises Carlow Castle, built between 1207 and 1213, and on the outskirts of the town the significant ancient Browneshill Dolmen,
erected sometime between 4,000 and 3,000 BC. While not an exceptionally beautiful town nor one on the regular tourist circle, it is a center for visiting gardens and villages in the county, has summer festivals around the river which flows through its middle, and is a nice place for Nancy and me to spend June and July.





An Independent Protestant congregation existed in Carlow as early as 1655, and in time it formally joined the Presbyterian Church in Ireland, but ceased to exist around 1750. Sometime between 1813 and 1816 Thomas Cox, from Hampshire in England, came to Carlow and, in the words of one historian, “Soon after coming to Carlow, finding the service in the Episcopal Church not to his taste, and the need of gospel preaching much felt in town, he with some associates, made application to various Societies to have this want remedied. His application to the Presbyterian body was successful.” In the beginning the congregation worshipped in the Methodist church, but decided in 1818 to erect a church of their own. Land was rented for £15 per year, approximately £100 was given, and on September, 12, 1819, the church held its first service.


While the name of the church properly is Carlow Presbyterian Church, over the entry door large concrete words (which I assume date back to 1819) read Scots’ Church, and, while over the past several years it has periodically been covered over by welcoming banners, it is by that name that it is known in the town and labeled in tourist information. This name comes from the Scottish roots of Presbyterianism in Ireland and from the Scottish garrison which was housed in Carlow and controlled the surrounding area during much of the period of British domination. In fact the church for many years was primarily made up of garrison Scots and their families, which meant that when independence was achieved in Ireland and the garrison left, the church declined until it was nearly non-existent, with services only once a month in a rented facility. On the verge of being closed, a minister and church worker were assigned to the church, and it is now a viable congregation with some wonderfully committed people in it and with good prospects for the future. As I noted last time, the people have welcomed us warmly and we feel privileged to be here and share in their ministry, to be, in the words of Paul to the Philippians, Partners in the gospel....

Nancy and I are now in Carlow, Ireland, and will be for the next two months. We are living in the manse, the pastor’s home which nearly every church in the country has. It is a very comfortable house in a quiet residential cul-de-sac, situated between a hurling field and a Gaelic Athletic Association sports field. On weekends, as we work our way past the traffic and cars parked all along the road, we can hear the crowds cheer for their teams and just catch a glimpse of the players. One of these days we will take in one of the games and find out exactly what hurling or Gaelic football is all about.
I have now preached at the Carlow Presbyterian Church (the historic Scots Church) for two Sundays. The service is quite informal and the people are very appreciative and responsive. The first time I preached I also gave the children’s message but when I asked the children to, in unison, shout out their name, the silence was deafening. The second time I tried it the reaction was the same, and the third time as well. Last week Nancy give the children’s message and the response was better…Oh, well.


Our routine here is fairly simple. On Sundays I preach at 11 a.m. and on Wednesdays lead a Bible Study at the church at 8 p.m. In between Nancy and I are free to visit with people, explore the area or whatever. There is also a home Bible Study on Friday nights that we have attended but not led, and I am beginning a men’s morning study on Tuesday mornings. Nancy had the ladies of the church in for tea this past Tuesday and will keep that going every other week as long as we are here.
The weather has been off and on—some wonderful sunny days and a bit of rain, with most days having a bit of both. Last summer when we were in Dublin it rained every single day, over 60 days in a row, but this summer has already been different. The rain in Dublin was not constant, and it was no bother, but the longer sunny spells here have been a delight. Nancy has enjoyed walking into town several times and I have taken advantage of the sunshine to make it onto the roads on my bicycle. At first I was concerned about traffic, but subsequently have discovered innumerable delightful small roads and lanes that take off from near the manse. There are small hills all around and the view from them and of them is spectacular—fields and valleys and hills alike.



We have found the people very warm and welcoming. The church is quite small (I will talk more about the church in time), but there is a core of concerned and committed people, and they are most gracious. We have been in several homes for tea and a meal, and have spent hours chatting after the various services. One of the impressions I immediately received on arriving in Ireland was that to the Irish time is not a huge concern. I have never been told before, in response to my query How long should I plan the Bible Study to last? that it really did not matter. The study on Wednesday that I lead begins at 8 and I was told that it would be fine to end by 10, but not necessary. The Friday study began at 8 and finished at 10:30, after which there was an hour or so of tea, biscuits (cookies) and chat. People are open about many things, interesting to converse with, and in no hurry. After church chat goes on for an hour or more, and an after church lunch invitation will last until 7 pm or later, while tea that starts at 8 will go on until near midnight. People enjoy chatting and I do too—it is always interesting, topics vary and people are involved. In short Nancy and I are off to a very wonderful beginning and looking forward to many more days and evenings of sharing, laughing, chatting and studying. This is a great place to be--a place where the body of Christ is alive but struggling to become more of what it is meant to be. Isn't that what every fellowship ought to do?
As Peter wrote, 2 Peter 3:18 But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Thursday I arrived at the Dublin airport, loaded my rental car with bicycle and baggage, and, with a short stop to visit a friend at Adelaide Road, made my way to Carlow. I was greeted graciously by one of the church members and ushered into my home for the next two months, the manse (pastor’s house). Tomorrow (Tuesday) I will pick Nancy up at the airport in Dublin, return here and we will be together for the adventure of the summer. In the next days/weeks/months I will fill this blog with the doings, joys and challenges of ministry and life in this Irish town, but first a P.S. to the month I spent in Greensboro between Mexico and here.

I have already written about the church Nancy and I have started attending, and the wonderful spirit and attitude which we have found there—in the whole church and in particular in the young adults’ class. I had the privilege of leading the class for a month, and I thoroughly enjoyed the experience. I have mentioned their Stimulus Movement initiative, challenging people to use the money received from the government in the form of an economic stimulus check for needs beyond their own family. In regards to that a potluck was held and about a dozen people and organizations presented their rationale for receiving some of the funds donated—it was quite an evening of committed people and valuable organizations. The congregation is now voting on which of these needs to support, and the money collected will be distributed accordingly. What a great idea!

Another blessing to Nancy and me was to be called forward my last Sunday and prayed for. New members were being welcomed into the church, and we were asked the same questions that they were asked, and then commissioned to go and serve. A very high percentage of the people at Oak Ridge Presbyterian Church have gone on mission trips, mostly to Chiapas, Mexico, and to each is given a bandana as a symbol of the sending church and the mission they are doing. Nancy and I received bandanas along with prayer, and I wore the bandana this past Sunday here in Carlow, and told them of the prayers for us and for them from Oak Ridge, North Carolina. A tangible expression of the universality and connectionalism of the body of Christ!

One more note. Nancy often walks from our house in Greensboro to the local supermarket in order to buy a few small things. The journey to the market and back usually takes her about 20 minutes. Last week I took our granddaughter Colette on the same walk—it took 2 ½ hours. Along the way we looked at bugs and leaves and goose droppings and rocks and dogs and airplanes and construction equipment and much more. To her every sound and every sight was a wonder, something worth stopping for and examining. The journey was slow but not boring…And it made me think once again about life and time. It made me wonder whether or not in the rush to get from one place to another and to do just one more thing in the seconds we can eke out of a day, we do not miss the wonder along the way—the wonder of people and places and things. The wonder of little things and big things. The wonder of life itself. Life in Carlow will probably be much slower than life in Shoreline or Clarkston or even in Greensboro. And that can either be frustrating if we measure our worth by what we do and how much we accomplish. Or it can be a blessing, a time to listen and watch and learn—from the little things and the slow things.

Years ago Nancy and I were visiting the National Art Gallery in Washington, DC. I have been in some of the great art galleries and museums in the western world, and this is one of them. But usually I have gone from hall to hall, with a guide or a book, and looked for a few seconds at some great masterpiece. This time I did something different. I chose one painting, a Monet, and sat in front of it for nearly the whole time in the museum. Because I did this I can not say that I saw certain paintings that educated people long to see, but I can say that I saw one great one. And I more than glanced at it, I saw details and nuances in it, I absorbed it. And this experience mirrors a walk with a child.
Psalm 46:10 says, Be still, and know that I am God. The journey of a small child is not still, it is filled with motion, but it is a reminder of how we are to live—perhaps not all the time but at least some of the time. It is a reminder of the importance of slowing down and looking, listening and feeling the world in which we live but so often do not notice. It is a reminder of the importance of being in a place, not just passing through it. It is a reminder of our connection with a place, a reality check on our desire to control and shape. And if we take the time it may just change how we feel about and value the times of rushing and running and achieving…