Ireland is a country of fields and farms. While the city of Dublin is one of the great cosmopolitan cities of Europe, outside Dublin there are countless small villages, old churches, and country lanes. The lanes run through fields of wheat and potatoes, and pastures with cows, cattle and sheep. The history of many civilizations revolves around the history of their great cities, but that is not the case with Ireland. Because the country was never conquered by the Romans it never was subjected to its land-planners.


This meant that roads were not widely developed and central administrative cities not established. Divided into four separate and competing kingdoms for centuries, with the church spread throughout in a series of monasteries, the idea of a unified nation and the infrastructure that such would require was not part of early Ireland. Instead the country was made up of farmers who worked their lands and came together for commerce—to sell their goods at the closest market town. Carlow was one of those market towns. It was also one of the seats of power of the kings of Leinster. It was also a cathedral city. This made it a significant gathering spot for people, but for people whose life was lived primarily on farms in the countryside.


All this makes Ireland a wonderful country to explore—at least as long as one’s adventuring spirit is not dampened by rain. Ireland is full of small places to explore, many of which have fascinating histories. There are rivers to walk alongside of (or barge on) and country lanes to mender. There are hills that seem like mountains and there is the seacoast (after all it is an island). There are pubs and tea shops, garden centers and walking routes, churches and monasteries that date back 1500 years, and all is nearby. And then there are the people—people who are truly gracious and who live up to the hype about the gift of gab.

Having said all that there needs to be a bit of caution expressed. Particularly about the driving, which presents certain challenges. The most obvious one, of course, is that the Irish drive on the other side of the road from most of the world. I understand that this is the original way the rest of the world drove—following the pattern established by horsemen who, being primarily right-handed, wanted to pass people with their right hand closest in case a weapon was needed. I also have been told that originally steering wheels were on the curb side of the car—to watch for ditches. But in any case things are done differently here, and it takes a bit of time to adjust. But adjust one does…


Another aspect of driving one has to adjust to is the narrowness of the roads and the omnipresence of large farm machinery which takes up much of the road. It also travels quite slowly. Actually the farm machinery is not that bothersome—you know their presence reflects the nature of the country and the draw of the countryside. You are there partly because they are there—it is their land and their farms that are so attractive. So you tend to enjoy them even as they drop a bit of farmland and farm byproduct in front of you as you slow down to their speed.

The narrowness itself is something else. You have to get used to it but it is nevertheless a real adjustment. Flying down a country lane at 60 (kilometers that is) you are regularly approached by an oncoming vehicle and just pray you can pass. Which you do—even if it is an SUV. Side mirrors quickly bear the marks of bushes bordering the lanes, but that is all that usually happens. I do suspect they do a fair business in driver-side mirrors, and am certain that it is only the difference in the height location of the mirrors of different makes of cars that prevents more clashes. I still vividly recall years ago when I biked past two drivers who, amidst the scattered remnants of two side mirrors, were chatting animatedly with each other in the highlands of Scotland. I am sure the same happens here although I have not seen it.


But perhaps the driving phenomenon that most stands out in my mind is the hedge rows that line most of the lanes in the country. In very many places, driving in Ireland is like driving in a tunnel. You know that there are beautiful fields all around, and see on the map that you are paralleling a meandering stream, but all you can see is the road and the hedges. They say that the hedges are necessary for certain wildlife, and I have been told that there are even laws that limit the seasons hedges can be trimmed (you cannot trim them when birds might be nesting). When there is a rise in the land around the road you can see over the hedges and catch a glimpse of the fields and farms you are traveling on the road to see, but the glimpse is often fleeting. You start slowing down for driveways or gates leading into fields, hoping to see something of what you are passing. When you cross a bridge, assuming it has a bit of lift, you glance at both sides. And sometimes you are surprised and wonder when you see the spire of a church or the top of a castle over the greenery. The hedges are often a covering for rock fences (Ireland wins the world prize for number of rock fences), so you do not want to drive into one. They are also often beautiful in and of themselves. But they do block the view.


So, if you go to Ireland (which I recommend) be prepared. Remember to think left to think narrow and to use your imagination to picture what the land you are driving through looks like on the other side of the never-ending tunnel. Is it stretching it too much to use the last of these as an illustration of faith? Possibly, but let me try and see if the hedge road view is not what what Hebrews was talking about in these words, Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.

As we go through our lives we know that there is more to see than what we see. We know that our path is hemmed in by our human limitations, by the dimensions in which we live, sometimes by the pains and struggles that we face. But by faith we know there is more. And every once in a while we get a glimpse of that more—somehow we see beyond the barriers that confine us. We see it in a moment’s glance, perhaps in a setting sun or a worship service or a special hymn or a special encounter with a special person or a special verse of Scripture. We see a bit of the more which God has created, a bit of the more which he has in store for us. And with that moment’s glance we are reassured that there is more, and that the more is wonderful.

The apostle John had the amazing experience of seeing the more first hand. He recorded it in the book of Revelation. Taken by the Spirit of God, either in a vision or in body, it was as if he were brought to a gate in the hedge row, a gate that opened out into a field, and invited to gaze through. He was only there for a short while, but what he saw assured him of the glory of what was to come. He saw a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it, and a Lamb, looking as if it had been slain, standing in the center of the throne…and he heard a song, Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise…

Soon John was back on the isle of Patmos, back where his sight was limited to what was at hand. But what he saw in those moments changed his life, and ours as well. His vision can be our vision, what he saw and heard we can see and hear through his recounting. Life is limited, and that can be frustrating. But faith sees beyond the limits to the beauty beyond—and marvels at what it sees…

Just a quick note to let you know that I have changed the format of this blog, and hope you like the new.

Also, I have added a link on this blog to a new blog I am experimenting with called Bible Studies. On that site I plan on posting studies I am preparing in relationship to the messages I am giving while preaching in Carlow. If this seems to be helpful, I am planning on doing the same with lessons on the Parables which I will be giving in Albania, on Pauline Letters and other topics in Mexico, and perhaps material I have previously worked on. To access, just click on the link to the right. To get to this page from that one, there is a similar link on the Bible Studies page. The direct address to the Ephesians study is www.acklesbiblestudies.blogspot.com. Other addresses will be added for other studies.

Ireland may be a small country but within its shores lies a land of great natural variety, wide social diversity and fascinating history. And this past week Nancy and I have been experiencing some of that diversity. Our ministry here in Carlow includes one weekend when I am not preaching there, and we took that time off to spend this past Sunday with friends at Adelaide Road Presbyterian Church in Dublin (where we were last summer) and then to go to the far west country. It was great for us to renew relationships with the Dublin people, to see how their new pastor has begun to work with that wonderful and challenging situation, then for us to move on.

From Dublin we went to the western coast, to County Mayo. While the Celtic Tiger has changed the face of all of Ireland, this western part is far from the urban hustle and bustle of cosmopolitan Dublin. Mayo was the center of much of the suffering of the 1850’s great potato famine, and still has not regained the population it had before that tragedy. A fair part of the county is called a gaeltacht area, that is an area in which Gaelic is a primary language. Most places in Ireland will have informational signs in both English and Gaelic, and Gaelic is part of the curriculum of Irish schools, but in this area Gaelic is a primary language and it is not uncommon to see signs that language only.


Our first stop was in a wide spot in the road called Pontoon. There, nestled against a hill and facing a beautiful lake, we stopped for the night in an inn. The inn was not particularly old by Irish standards, it was constructed in the 1800’s, but it is delightfully kept and wonderfully comfortable. The 17 mile bike ride around the lake that evening was picture-perfect.

After a comfortable night in Pontoon we moved on to the port city of Westport then continued on to Achill Island—a place of dramatic hill and coastal scenery, white beaches and points of relative isolation. From Achill we went to Belmullet, where we spent the night in an inn above a pub in what I am sure was one of the older buildings in the town. Our dinner of excellent fish and chips in another pub was shared with a group of cyclists who had come from the north. They had battled rain all day, and I am not sure that my report of the dry that we had experienced just a few miles farther south was encouraging.

The next day we found the rains the cyclists had told us about, as we traveled through the wind-swept barren bog lands of Mayo. No crops can grow in these bogs, but they are a primary source for the fuel used in many homes in the area and beyond—peat. In a relatively flat rainy area, when there are no trees to drink up the water, rainfall dissolves certain minerals and percolates downwards until the minerals form an impermeable hard pan layer. The rain then continues but water does not go beyond that layer, so the land becomes permanently water-logged and soggy. Under these conditions certain microorganisms that decompose dead organic matter cannot grow, so dead grass and other plants pile up year after year, layer after layer. This accumulation is called peat, and is harvested by digging trenches then slicing off pieces the shape of bricks which are then left in the field to dry and then to be burned. How they can dry when the area has rain 235 days a year is a bit of a question for me, but they say it can…



We took single track side roads, passing a graveyard for unbaptized infants, visiting several very small fishing ports, and went through mile after mile of land that was broken only by mounds of drying peat. At one point during the day we were a bit lost so we stopped at a tractor which was parked in the middle of the road. The tractor driver-farmer rolled down his window and asked us where we were headed and we told him. And he told us how to get there, and also he told us about his family, his sister in America, the prevalence of cancer in the area (a result of Chernobyl, he was sure), some concerns about the politics of his country and ours, how one had to know someone important to get a good job, and much more. Then he led us to the turn we had to make to get where we were going. Much different from the hurry of Dublin, and very enjoyable.


Our destination that day was the Ceide Fields. Built on slopes rising from the sea, archaeologists have found the largest Neolithic settlement in all of Europe. The settlement was built approximately 5,000 years ago and inhabited for around 500 years. No one knows where the people came from, but it seems to have been a thriving and peaceful community of up to 1,000 inhabitants. 5,000 years ago the climate of this area was different—several degrees warmer and wooded, with deer and other wildlife in the dense forests. But these new people came and replaced the tiny population of nomads with a settled life style. The newcomers cleared fields, cut trees, kept cattle and piled over half a million tons of stone into walls and fences for homes, fences, and tombs. On the walking tour, which was cut short by driving rain, we learned that the settlement was as well preserved as it was because as the bog gradually grew it both covered and protected the ruins. We also learned that the people’s work in clearing the forests to make their fields probably contributed to the conditions bogs need to develop—and that the growth of the infertile bogs in turn may have contributed to the collapse of their culture. Perhaps we have something to learn from the success that possibly turned tragic 5,000 years ago—something about God’s intention that we should work and take care of…the land. (Genesis 2:15)

From traffic jams in Dublin to a leisurely conversation on a one lane track in Mayo; from English to Gaelic; from busy port of Dublin to small withering ports in the northwest; from fertile fields around Carlow to bogs in Mayo; from modern condos to 5,000 year old homes; from sunshine one minute to rain the next; from secular Ireland to the monasteries of the sixth century and the cathedrals of later years—Ireland is a land of contrasts. And what a privilege to be able to experience it, learn from it, and to try to encourage the believers for whom it is home, and field of mission—in all its parts and all its diversity.

What is life like for us in Carlow, Ireland? Well, each day is different. There is the Sunday morning worship service, starting at 11 and ending, after tea and biscuits and chatting, at around 1:00 or 1:30. Then we have had the opportunity to go to lunch with several different church people, mostly to their homes. That lasts until early evening. On Tuesday mornings I lead a Men’s Bible Study in a local restaurant on the Sermon on the Mount. There is a Wednesday evening Bible Study on the Parables of Jesus which I lead, beginning at 8 and ending at 10 or 11. Finally, there is a home Bible Study that Nancy and I attend on Friday evenings. The study is lay led and we are looking at Nehemiah—a surprising book to study but one which, with the help of a Scripture Union guide, has been surprisingly relevant and engaging. Those are the regular commitments. Besides them there have been occasional events we have attended—a youth rally in a barn and a picnic (with children doing Irish folk dancing) and meeting focusing on prayer for the persecuted church.


In between these anchors Nancy and I have toured the area, had lunch with different people and become familiar with Carlow, its people and its sites, including the Brownshill Dolmen (a 5,000 year old granite portal dolmen--the largest in Europe). I spend time preparing for the services and studies, and have visited in the hospital as well. We (particularly Nancy) walk into town almost daily, which means a 20 minute stroll. We go to the local supermarket (TESCO or Dunnes), the barber shop, and various other stores. I try to get out on my bicycle every day, or at least every other day, and am pretty successful at it. The manse is at the north edge of the developed part of town and a right turn takes me under the grand stone arches which used to mark the beginning of the grounds of a large landowner’s property. From there on the back roads pass through farm lands, climb nearby hills (including Mt. Leinster), and pass through little villages.

Carlow County is one of the smallest counties in the country, but is known for its gardens, so we have visited several of those which are on a tourist loop. The gardens vary from grand estate grounds to garden shops with some displays, and often have a delightful tea room for a lunch or tea. There are castles to visit, small villages to stop in, and picnic spots tucked in here and there. We have been to Kilkenny (major tourist town—kil means church, kenny is a form of the name of the founder of the town), Cashel (major tourist center for its church and buildings on a rocky platform), Wexford (south east port city—destroyed by Cromwell), Tintern Abbey, the high cross at Moon, and many more places.
And we have gone to a hurling match—fast moving and interesting Irish sport! This weekend we will be in Dublin visiting the church we were in last summer, then be taking several days to get to know the north and west coasts.

Last night, the 2nd of July, we hosted a 4th of July pancake feed at the manse. We couldn’t do it on the 4th because of the Bible Study we attend, but at the same time couldn’t abandon a 30 year old tradition, so we made do. It was a joyful gathering with lots of pancakes, chat and all, with the background of American patriotic songs and a waving flag—compliments of a Microsoft Screen Saver and iTunes downloads. Since the Irish wrested their independence from the British as we did, we felt a bit of camaraderie.


All in all we are grateful to God for the opportunity to be here in Carlow. We genuinely sense that the people appreciate what we are doing, and also that our short ministry is needed just now. And we are genuinely grateful to the people for their warm welcome and ongoing hospitality. Ireland is a remarkably mixed land just now. Last Sunday, for example, among the 50 adults attending the service, there were people from Germany, Northern Ireland (UK), South Africa, Zimbabwe, Cameroon, and, of course, the United States. In such a blend of people we feel like we fit in and are becoming a part of the community of faith. And that is what the church is all about, isn’t it? It is one body, the body of Christ, unified by the Lord of that body—and called to worship and serve in his name. That is Carlow Presbyterian Church—and it is every church everywhere.