On Friday we said goodbye to Harry and Ellen Bruce, who had come with us from Ireland and spent just under three weeks here in Greensboro. They were great to have around, and real friends for Colette, as well as great customers for the local Subway sandwich shop and all the malls. What a privilege to be part of the family of God and share experiences and opportunities with each other and their children.


Then tonight, Sunday night, there was a gathering of the Ackles-Content clan. JJ couldn't be there because she is in New York, but Steve, Emily, Colette, Steve’s mother and I were all together at our house. The Olympics were just finishing and the closing ceremonies were in the background, but they were not the reason for the gathering. The reason was we were making final preparations for tomorrow's early morning run to the hospital and the birth of our second grandchild, a boy this time. We did last minute things, made exact plans for the morning, talked nervously, and prayed.

The birth of our first grandchild, Colette, was different. We did not know when she would come—it was up to her! This time, because of complications last time, Emily and Steve made the decision to have a c-section. So it is not up to the new one—he is entering the world on someone else’s time table, not his own. He is full term and comfortable, but little does he know what awaits him in the next few hours. Change is hardly a sufficient word to describe what he is about to face—but it is hardly a sufficient word to describe what Emily, Steve and Colette are about to face as well. And probably grandma and grandpa too. There will certainly be more soon on this event in this blog, but for tonight I am reminded of the words of Psalm 139:14 and 15, For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.

And just a short p.s.—for some reason I have been thinking recently about an ad I saw in a paper in Ireland. No connection with the upcoming birth, I am sure, but it struck me as strange and I have not mentioned it before. We may have the same in the US, and I could just be out of step with the way things are done now. In any case I have not noticed it before. The ad was for pre-wedding cosmetic/surgical procedures… The ad did not specify which parts of the body could be treated, I assume that would be optional, but whatever was chosen the claim was that that part would be better looking, at least for a time. The procedures noted were guaranteed to last for at least three months—then there was no guarantee that reality would not strike. Seems a bit bizarre and possible could give new spin to a popular saying, first better then worse…

Nancy and I are back home. At least we have returned to the United States and to our comfortable house in Greensboro, NC. The flight from Dublin was uneventful (which is how I like it), despite the full plane across the Atlantic. It seems that most flights these days are pretty full, which makes sense for the airlines. I read horror stories about some people’s flying experiences but I have not had any significant problems. This time the plane (Boeing, of course…) was comfortable, the food adequate (I do not fly expecting to be served a gourmet meal), and the in-flight entertainment consisted of individual screens (albeit small) with a plethora of options. Our luggage arrived in good shape, except that my bike box had been slit completely open by security, and the bike itself was only kept from falling out by one small piece of duct tape that had evaded the inspector’s knife. Once again duct tape to the rescue!

Harry and Ellen Bruce, two of the four children of our friends David and Zoe Bruce from Northern Ireland, are with us for a two week visit. I think the 95 degree weather that greeted us on arrival has been a bit disorienting to them, but it makes outdoor activities more possible than some of the cloud and rain in Ireland—at least if one can tolerate the mid-day heat. They have also both learned the value of the siesta, Harry shared a birthday with Colette, and they are good fun and help to have with us.

Returning to Greensboro raises once again the question of place. Fifty years ago in his book A Place for You, the Swiss physician-psychiatrist Dr. Paul Tournier mused about that topic. He said that everyone needs a place, that is somewhere that they call home, somewhere that they feel comfortable and safe, relaxed and accepted. He also said that if a person does not have a place then their life will be a journey to find one, and the void will impact all they do, all the relationships they develop and all aspects of their lives. Once finding that place, however, he said that wherever a person went there would be a degree of comfort and security—of self-contentment and tranquility.

This morning I was reading in Genesis about Abraham’s pilgrimage from Ur to Haran to Canaan to Egypt and back to Canaan. I read of God’s promise to him of a place, of a land stretching from the river of Egypt to the Euphrates. And I read of Abraham settling down in the Promised Land—claiming that place by setting up a home, grazing his cattle in the fields, and building an altar. Here was a place for him—a touchstone, a familiar location where he and the land would be one.

But then I mused on the New Testament’s view of place. It is much more transitory, much less stationery, much less settled. In Philippians we are told that our citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20). In Hebrews 13:14 we are told that Here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city which is to come. In James the Christian community is addressed as a community of aliens and strangers, as in I John we are told to not love the things of this world. It seems that in the New Testament there is an intentional distancing from attachment to place and in its place is an attachment to person, to a person, that is Jesus Christ. What this means is that the security, permanence and touchstone for the Christian, what place provided for Abraham has been replaced by the person Jesus Christ.

If this is accurate then there are a couple important consequences. One is that the promise of a land which was made to Abraham, and which has today taken on great political importance in the reemergence of Israel, is not something to be fulfilled in the physical sense. If followers of Christ are truly heirs to all the promises made to Abraham then the promise of a place has been transformed—not abrogated but transformed to something greater. We are co-heirs with Christ not only of a small piece of real estate but of the entire realm of the kingdom of God. And today we experience that inheritance in the power of the Holy Spirit. The other change is that no matter where we live the greatest allegiance, identity and security is to come from our relationship with the person of Christ, not the physical land or house. And that means that when we are secure in Christ we have a security which enables us to be at peace and at home wherever we are.

Now, having said that I still think there is something wise in what Dr. Tournier said as it is applied to a physical place. I still think that it is important to have a home base where we feel safe, accepted and at peace. As Christians the importance of such is not primary anymore, but it is still significant—and it is one of the calls and challenges of the church. My first call out of seminary was to First Presbyterian Church of Fresno. That church adopted as a motto the title of Dr. Tournier’s book, A Place for You. That is a wonderful motto for any church—and a challenging goal as well. To be a place for people from different backgrounds, with different abilities and disabilities, with different perspectives and different needs; to be a place where those varied people feel at home, feel secure, feel needed and valued. Jesus made all sorts of people feel at home with him, and when a church reflects that in its fellowship, worship and witness, then it is truly being the body of Christ.

To have a physical place that is a place for you is important. In fact I tell pastors I have had the privilege to mentor that unless they love not only the people they minister with but also the place they minister in they cannot minister effectively. Physical place is important. But to take our primary identity from any place or to devote time and resources to a home over all else or to put allegiance to a nation over allegiance to the kingdom of God, is a form of idolatry and false worship.

Nancy and I are a bit out of place. We return to a house we thoroughly enjoy, a family that we love, an area with historical and geographical interest, and we are finding a welcoming church family. We are arranging the house and the yard, even looking for a good place for a hammock...That gives us a sense of place.


But our ancestors, particularly Nancy’s, at great cost and sacrifice moved west as pioneers, and we feel a little bit like traitors. And we do miss the particular beauty of the Northwest, family there and the church community that is still such a part of us. But we are in the place God wants us, and we are with the One who is our place. He is the One who was with us where we were before, is with us now, and will be with us in the future—to be our place, wherever we may be. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age… (Matthew 28:20).

Life is lived in chapters. The first chapter opens when we are born. The final chapter closes when we die, at which point through faith a new book begins! Some chapters are longer than others, and some are happier than others. But they add up, year after year, page after page.


Nancy and I are on the cusp of finishing another chapter in our lives. It has been a very happy chapter, thanks to the call of God and the grace of his people. Just over two months ago we landed in Ireland, made our way to Carlow, and began a venture in the unknown at Carlow Presbyterian Church. We had received some information from people in Carlow and knew that we would be welcomed, but we knew little beyond that—the chapter was not yet written.

But as the days went on, and the pages were filled, they were pages of joy and adventures. We met wonderful people, some of whom will remain friends for life. We visited some beautiful parts of the Emerald Isle. We shared in the pain of a church which had faced serious difficulties, but a church with people committed to the ministry, committed to Christ, and with hopes for the future.


I cycled lanes near the manse and Nancy walked them— I up hills and she along the river. We were invited into homes and shared meals with people we had never known. And we renewed friendships in Dublin and Lisburn which we had made before. We were taken places by new friends, shown parts of the area only locals know, and told pieces of history that may not appear in books. And we were fed and fed and fed…Potatoes and sweets and potatoes and lamb and potatoes and desert and potatoes and tea…


The chapter was filled with talking, sharing, praying, renewing, and making new beginnings with farmers and city workers and businessmen and others. A Tuesday morning men’s group, a golf outing, prayer for the persecuted church, a service in a barn, a picnic in a home and many other events made the chapter move quickly.

And the anchor was worship. Sunday mornings at 11:00. Nancy doing a children’s message and I leading the service. I was preaching out of Ephesians and it seemed to speak to us all. And there was the Wednesday evening service as well. There was laughter and tears, singing and praying—all the things that God sends us and we send back to him.


Tomorrow morning a plane leaves around 11:00 a.m. Nancy, I and Harry and Ellen Bruce will be on board, heading from Dublin to Newark to Greensboro. For Nancy and me it will be going back home—to family and a new family member soon to arrive. For Harry and Ellen it will be a visit, new experiences and, hopefully, something they will look back on with happy memories.

For Nancy and me this means this chapter will be closed. Not the relationships, not the memories, not the impact, but the time. We will look back and smile and thank God. And we will look forward to the time when we can renew the relationships and visit again. But in the meantime new chapters will be written and new adventures will be had. Some may be sad, some happy. But this chapter will be in the book of our lives. And it will be a good one—thanks to the people who have shared it with us and the God who brought us together…Praise be to God.

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.

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…

It has been several weeks since I last posted an update on this site. In that time I have changed worlds once again, from a wonderful three months with great friends and challenging ministry in Merida, Mexico to Greensboro, North Carolina. My teaching at El Seminario Presbitariano de San Pablo and in their extension program in the city center came to a conclusion the last week of April and Nancy and my time in Carlow, Ireland, begins June 1. But in between we are in Greensboro—which is a great place to be.

Home in Merida...Home in Greensboro


JJ has left the Pacific Northwest and is with us while she waits for what will come next. Not certain what that will be but certain that God has a plan and it is good. Son-in-law Steve is finishing a very difficult three month firefighters’ school in preparation for his new position with the Greensboro fire department. Emily is doing well, just finished a two night a week job teaching English to people for whom English is not a first language. She also just finished her once a week tutoring time with the church they attend. Meanwhile Colette continues to be a joy to me and to others, growing every day, learning new words, and just fun to be with. A brother is going to join the Content household the end of August, and it will be interesting to see how big sister takes the little intruder…I am confident it will be very good.

Vista in Yucatan...Back Yard in Greensboro


Nancy and I have started to meet people and get involved in Oak Ridge Presbyterian Church. While it is hard to really be involved since we are away from the area so much of the time, it is good to begin finding a new home church. We miss Calvin and the people there (and Clarkston as well), and love to hear from people there, but we have moved and need to find a community to worship and serve in. We attended a Sunday School class last week and I was immediately asked to take the teaching role as long as I am in the area. Felt a little quick and all, but why not! So for the month I am leading the young couple’s class in its study of Luke. We were quite impressed when we learned that the class is spearheading a church-wide thrust to encourage people to consider carefully and prayerfully how they use the money they will be receiving as part of the government’s economic stimulus plan. The thrust is called Stimulus, and one aspect is inviting people to donate all or part of what they receive to a special fund in the church that will be used to help people in need. The dispersal of the funds will be decided upon by the entire church, responding to presentations of needs of any kind from any one. That plus a strong connection with south-east Mexico makes the church feel like a good place for Nancy and me.

Morning greeter Merida...

So, that is my life this month. Merida is a wonderful place and the Legters and others are amazing committed servants of Christ. But for now the heat of Merida has been exchanged for the warmth of Greensboro. The scenery is different and the work is different. Instead of Pauline Epistles, Preaching and Parables days are filled with family, a new church community, projects around our home and Emily and Steve’s as well, and time being a dad and a granddad. Cycling is good here, as it was there, but the terrain has changed. In fact nearly all is different—bit the constant is God’s adventure. That is what life really consists in, and that is the constant for all who trust in him…Where we are is interesting, but whose we are is most important… And if we belong to Christ then wherever we are, as long as we are seeking him and his call, is the right place…

Sometimes I wonder what world I am in…In the past few weeks I have gone from teaching in El Seminario Presbiteriano de San Pablo, in the Yucatan of Mexico, to Seattle, Washington to Greensboro, North Carolina, to the San Francisco Bay Area and back to Mexico. And in the midst of that I have made airline reservations for Nancy and me to get to Ireland where we will spend much of the summer, and back to Greensboro to be present for the birth of our second grandchild. I also made travel arrangements for us to get to Albania in October, and for me to get to France and Portugal to do some cycling with a friend prior to the ministry in Albania…

Some people ask about or assume that once you stop receiving a paycheck you are classified as “retired”. I have always had a problem with that for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that I do not find the word “retired” anywhere in the Bible. What I do find is the call to love and to serve God with all our heart, soul, strength and mind…And that is not time-limited. It is not something we are supposed to do for a season. It is not something we are supposed to do if we hold a position on a church board or a place in the pulpit. It is not something we are to do until we feel it is time for someone else to take over.

It is obviously true that the form of ministry we may have changes over time. And the place of ministry may change as well. Gifts that we have may change, energy levels may ebb and flow, and the needs that God places in front of us may vary from time to time and season in life to season in life. But the call is always there and the need is always there as well. While we may be led to ministry in other countries and with different kinds of people, we may as strongly be led to minister in different ways in the place we have always called home. Traveling is not essential to ministering, it is only one kind of call to some people. I feel blessed to have that call at this time, but it is certainly not a greater call or a more noble call than the call to stay and serve where one has been for years. And I assume that that call will come to Nancy and me some time.

The point is simply that from the moment we claim Christ as Savior and Lord we are enlisted in his service. And the point is that this enlistment is not short-term, it is life-long. Some time ago there was a commercial that said, You never outgrow your need for milk. In the Christian life it could be rephrased, You never outgrow your call to ministry. An alternate twist could be, You never outgrow your opportunity to share in the joy of being part of the greatest and most important movement history has ever known… But that is too long to be as memorable…

Ministry is not a function of place or position. It is a function of attitude. It is a willingness to show up and to be available to God—wherever we are or wherever we are called to be. I have always told people that no one single believer is able to or called to do everything, but I go on to say that each of us is called to do something. That is how God orders his work in and through us. In the busyness of a long work day—at home or at an office—each of us is called to ministry in some shape. In the early years and the later years of life each of us is called to ministry in some shape. And the joy of life is in finding that specific place and using that specific gift for the glory of God. We may be confused about what world we are in, but whatever the world the call is the same—and that call is the gift. As Jesus said, Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. (Matthew 10:39)