A Mighty Fortress

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

I learned a lot during our team’s visit to Gibraltar on Sunday. We attended a Methodist church that several of the staff here attends. On the way over to Gibraltar from where we are staying you actually have to cross a border and technically leave Spain and enter the British Commonwealth. Gibraltar is a territory with its own governor and management but it is a part of the United Kingdom. All the signs are in English and you can find uniquely British products like Marmite and baked beans—or so I’m told. I am fairly sure this is the first time I had to have my passport out to attend church. The sermon was from Ezekiel 37 where the valley of dry bones come to life and also included the story of the raising of Lazarus in the New Testament. The pastor talked about both the centrality of Jesus and how God speaks life into our dry places. The worship was especially sweet for me. I think I must like guitar players that have dreadlocks; perhaps they are antennae for the Holy Spirit.

After church we popped over to a small plaza for lunch at an outdoor restaurant. I got the chance to play with 18 month old Caleb. We chased pigeons, found every dirty piece of anything lying on the ground, hollered loudly in a small pedestrian tunnel to hear the resonance, pretended we were in jail using the metal handrails and spent some time chatting on the pay phone—all before our food arrived.

Afterwards we hired a taxi tour to take the team up the rock of Gibraltar to see the sites. I had enough geography to know that Gibraltar was a high point at the narrow point separating the Mediterranean Sea from the Atlantic Ocean but until I saw the thing in person I didn’t realize how dominant of a feature this rock is. Climbing right out of the salt water the white face shoots strait to the sky. The road up to the top does the same.

Along the way, as well as spectacular views, you visit a large cave that was set up as a unique theater and opera house for special events. At times it was also used as a hospital and other operations that needed a safe place to operate during hostile military conflicts.

The next stop was the apes. Apes are like monkeys without tails and were introduced to Gibraltar presumably by the Moors at some point in history. However, the legend goes that the British will hold control of Gibraltar as long as there are still apes living there. Now they are a tourist attraction and are fed regularly and kept healthy for the tourists.

It is definitely worth the price of admission. Since then, I’ve been humming the old hymn “A mighty fortress is our God.”Because of the rock’s strategic location, the history is basically one of trying to forcibly take control of that relatively small piece of real estate. At some point the Brits had the great idea of chiseling tunnels into the rock to protect and defend against the various sieges.

They chiseled holes for cannons that allowed them to defend their positions from within the rock itself. Incredible to think of spending months inside a cave with hostile forces surrounding your position inside a rock tunnel.

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; our helper he amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;his craft and power are great, and armed with cruel hate, on earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing, were not the right man on our side, the man of God's own choosing.

Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is he; Lord Sabaoth, his name, from age to age the same, and he must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us, we will not fear, for God hath willed his truth to triumph through us.

The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him; his rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure; one little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth; the Spirit and the gifts are ours, thru him who with us sideth.

Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also; the body they may kill; God's truth abideth still; his kingdom is forever.

As I read the words of the last stanza that speaks about losing goods and family and even your very life while keeping the gifts of the Spirit and the Christian life I can’t help but reflect on the persecution of our Christian brothers and sisters in the Arab world. This morning I heard the story of a Christian who did not meet a fellow Christian for three years after his conversion. And even then all involved approached the initial encounter with trepidation, not knowing if it might be a plan to uncover hidden Christians. These are the ones who can sing “Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also; the body they may kill’ God’s truth abideth still: His kingdom is forever.”

Yes, what a mighty fortress. Dig in.

Thousand Word Stories

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Guest Blogger: Roger Reimer

What an amazing blend of cross cultural experiences . . . enjoying a couscous meal at a restaurant imbedded within a Tanger neighborhood, finding our way through a maze of narrow walkways leading to homes and neighborhood businesses offering every imaginable need.

Exploring the history of this amazing piece of real estate commonly known as the Rock of Gilbratar . . . interesting how so many different ethnic groups have struggled to gain possession of this major rock that protrudes out of the sea a little less than 1,000 meters. From its strategic military location, this has been the home of a hospital, military strategy planning place and now an adventure to explore for those who have an ounce of curiosity.

And let me tell you about the weather . . . we’ve enjoyed Mediterranean sea breezes and bright sunny days and very comfortable cool nights for the weary guest.

Familiarity with the Spanish language goes a long way in communicating with those we have crossed paths with as we spent this time in this corner of the grand olive orchard.

And finally the similarities that we have noticed from our years living in Ecuador reflect the common Hispanic ethnic origins. The pictures in the memories of our minds will always feed the stories of more than a thousand words.

Thorny Situations

Friday, April 08, 2011

The big task for the day involved the ongoing removal of a large tree filled with sharp 3-4 inch thorns. Debbie and Roger had removed enough branches to allow clear access for me to get in with the chainsaw. One has to be very careful as you wade into the mass of sprawling branches. Once I finally got the trunk cut down it was a ton more work to cut off the small branches and feed them through the mulcher. Using chainsaw, handsaws, pruning shears, axes, hatchets and hands we broke the tree down piece by patient piece. We won’t be completely finished mulching it all until next week sometime.

What a miserable tree to work with. It really tried my patience when I took a turn feeding the thorny branches into the mulcher. I continually had to fight the urge to hurry and grab without looking and just shove the branches around. If you hurry you pay for it with painful pokes. I even got jabbed through my work gloves, another time deep into my thigh. Debbie cut a branch that swung into her head, drawing blood.

I see our work on this thorn tree as yet another metaphor for how they are sharing the Gospel in this region. Patience, persistence, methodical progress mixed with painful jabs and the occasional misstep. I can sense the zeal the folks here have and can tell they’d love to jump in with a full throttle approach, but I know that prudence rules. And yet it is so awesome to hear the innovative radio programs they are producing here. Amazing to see the strategic ways they dodge branches and duck through thorny patches, cutting here, trimming there, making the big cut when possible. What a great group of people that W has working with him.

Across the Waves

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Before we even finished breakfast, a backhoe showed up to help remove the dead palm tree stump that Dennis and Roger removed the branches from on Monday. The inside is so rotten it smells like sewer and we were actually worried that the backhoe had damaged a sewer line or a septic tank when he was digging. But the smell was just from the decomposing palm. Apparently there is some type of worm that was accidentally imported from India that has wreaked havoc on the palm trees here in Spain, killing a lot of this palm species here. It is really too bad since they are gorgeous trees when alive. The backhoe operator made quick work of the job and even dislodged a few rocks that we were going to need to remove later on, saving us some labor.

Devotions this morning by me from 2 Corinthians 5: 16 talking about being a new creation in Christ. It is a good thing Christ is still alive in us because our bodies are dead tired today. I’ve been fighting a cold, Dennis and Roger neither one are feeling too well. Debbie seems to be the only one with much energy. Nonetheless, we cut down two more trees today and did some more mulching of the branches. We now have a huge tree that is full of thorns to run through the mulcher. It’s not going to be much fun, if you get the point.

Dennis prepped the top of the cargo container that acts as the tool shed so we can apply tar and some reflective roofing to it later on in order to seal some leaks. There is no shortage of work but our bodies don’t want to cooperate. So when Stuart asked if we would like to drive into town and grab a cup of coffee and see a few sites rather than work more after lunch there wasn’t much argument. In fact Dennis was content to simply snooze and relax rather than even go on the jaunt.

At a wonderful outdoor café on a pedestrian street near the center of town, I had a small “Spain Spanish” lesson when I ordered a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. “Juice” here is called “zumo” not “jugo” like in Latin America. After the spectacular OJ, coffee and a wonderfully warm croissant, I was pleased that Ingvar drove us home via the Mediterranean oceanfront.

The surf was higher than I’d expected and the waves crashed hard against a steep beach. I was told that they actually spend a lot of time and money pumping new sand onto the beaches every year because it gets washed away. Lots of people doing some casual fishing from the shore, but I couldn’t spot examples of their catch. We stopped on the beachfront near the ruins of an old guard tower and I was able to dip my toes in the salt water, if only just briefly. Water temperature was cool but not frigid. Maybe I’ll have to go for a swim, just to say I did. I’m not sure it will be warm enough to be pleasant.

I could just watch the waves for hours and found myself looking across the great expanse towards the lands where the name of Jesus is rarely heard except on the radio.

While sitting in the compound tonight, I wonder what harvest is being gathered across the waves from here. And smile at the pun.

Flexibility

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Guest Blogger: Mary Lou Auckland

Devotions this morning were about wearing the yoke with Jesus. Thanks, Jesus, for being the stronger one in the yoke. Then I can see where to go and follow along the right path. It's fascinating listening to the different languages used in our prayers this morning - Arabic, Swedish, German, Irish-English and American-English. =)

We had sunshine today to work more on cleaning up the debris we had left from felling trees and trimming bushes. There are so many birds just chirping and singing away even though we took away some of their habitats. But they don't worry because God provides for the birds of the air.
Debbie is our master painter and is painting the outside staircase. She looks like the Michelin man in her white coveralls only she isn't big enough even to fit into them. But they sure protect her from the black paint. I think tomorrow we will see these two jobs done. But we have been assured that there are plenty more jobs waiting for us.

The word for the day is FLEXIBILITY!

Big Trees, Small Spaces

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

I know I’m a bit twisted, but I often see metaphors between the work a team is doing and the greater vision for the region we are working in. Told you I was weird. If you still doubt it, you can scroll back in the archives and read “High Heels and Motorcycles.” But today is a great example.

This morning our task loomed large—several evergreens, one a tall 40-footer (It looks similar to a juniper but much taller than the Colorado version) were growing near the back wall of the walled property. It overhangs a neighboring property filled with cane that is overgrown and neglected. Awhile back the team here watched helplessly from the roof with no available water pressure as the field burned and threatened to catch the evergreens on fire and thus threaten the buildings. No doubt the trees needed to come out. The small one wasn’t much challenge since it was leaning the direction we wanted to fell it. But the big guy was leaning the wrong way, or so we thought. The original plan was to take off all the limbs as high as I could go with the ladder and then tie on a rope to pull the trunk back in the direction toward open space. However, as the day progressed and I reached the upper limits of what I dared to cut off the ladder, clearing as we went, we still doubted our small team’s ability to pull the tree against its natural lean and in the direction we wanted.

Knowing the limit to our abilities, we eventually began considering the small opening between the wall and the satellite dish the radio station here uses to download some of its programming. It made me really nervous because if I missed the narrow opening when dropping the tree it would A) damage the wall and the newly installed flood lights, B) smash the satellite dish, pushing it off target and disrupting the plan for radio programming until someone could re-aim the dish, or C) if the tree was tall enough it could push a second pine tree into one of the previously noted obstacles. It definitely didn’t seem ideal, but it also seemed like the only way.

The work in this region seems to mirror this situation. Many times those who work here are forced to change their plans to adapt to the leanings in the creative access places they are working. From what I can tell they are often hemmed in with obstacles blocking the obvious direction they would like to go. If they make a wrong move the tree they are working with may smash against any number of obstacles, both spiritual and political. People could get hurt; lives are literally on the line. But as they toil away, taking down branch after branch, reaching as much of the tree as they can, working toward the task of bringing light to some very dark places, a small space is revealed—a place to drop the tree—a place to go. A narrow way, but a way nonetheless.

So with the rope tied on as high as I could reach, Dennis, Roger and Ingvar, got ready to pull. Chainsaw rattling, I made the wedge cut at the base, aiming carefully toward where the tree must fall. The back cut comes next, allowing the tree to hinge to the ground. As the wood begins to crack I retreat toward safety as I see the trunk accelerate with the rope’s hard tug. Someone yells “Timber!” and the tree crashes raucously to the ground right in the perfect position.

Just like He planned all along.

1 Corinthians 1:25: For the foolishness of God is wiser than human wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than human strength.

The Main Thing in Spain

Day one working at the HCJB Global offices in Spain.

*note: some names have been omitted for security reasons.

After almost 30 hours of travel by plane, train and automobile to get to our home for two weeks in Spain, the team was wiped out. What a joy to be met at the train station by W’s vivacious German accent.

The day started with devotions and introductions and a few verses from Hebrews. After a quick cup of coffee, we got the tour of the previous team’s work to put a roof over the inner courtyard and add some new office space. There is still plenty of work needed to complete that project, but priorities for us began with a few unfinished details and in the yard outside where a veritable jungle has emerged during the rainy part of the year here. Roger and Dennis quickly jumped into pulling apart a dead palm tree, Debbie and Mary Lou grabbed their paint brushes. Lois went with U to stock up the food cabinets for our time here and I pulled the cord to start up the weed wacker. As the sweat began to drip in my sunglasses I realized we were already making some progress improving the state of the lawn and garden.

The temperature warmed up with a beautiful sunny day, but the overall temperature never got uncomfortably hot. Jet lag was asking me to stay firmly seated on the bench for a while longer after our sandwich lunch. In the end the weed wacker’s call won out. Our muscles will probably feel it tomorrow with the effort of yard work tasks that winter in Colorado has not required.

At the end of the day I was glad to have Mary Lou telling me to shut the motor off and quit. There is plenty of work to keep us busy and we are eager to help.

During devotions this morning we heard the story of a young girl who wrote in to the radio station. She had become a Jesus follower after listening and was asking if they knew of a church in her area. She lives in a closed country where believers are not welcome and no Christians are meeting near her location. Radio is her only tie to Christian fellowship in a place where following Jesus is most likely a crime. Thank you Jesus for the work being done here, both in the physical world and especially in the spiritual.

Good News from the Arab World--for a change.

I couldn't help but pass along this good news from a part of the world we've only heard bad news about lately. Please pray for our fellow believers in North Africa and the Middle East.

Algeria: Where Revival Refuses to Cease

Aidan Clay (February 28, 2011)

"During that year we went to villages where there were no Christians, we prayed for the village, and after a few months we would hear that there were Believers there. People had dreams, visions; some of them discovered Christian radio programs. We didn't share the Gospel directly with many people, but God in His way, preached the Gospel. It was like an explosion in all the Kabylie area and it's continuing now." -Pastor Raba.

(Tizi Ouzou, Algeria)—As reported in Assist News, last year, an angry mob damaged the Tafat Church in Tizi Ouzou. International Christian Concern (ICC), a Washington DC-based human rights organization, visited Algeria, including Tizi Ouzou, just months after the attack on Tafat Church. The purpose for the visit was to encourage Algeria's Christians and assist their unmet needs, but as happens more often than not when meeting with persecuted brethren, it was ICC who came away more encouraged.

Meeting with house church pastors in remote villages in the beautiful Kabylie Mountains, they shared stories of God's work amongst their people and reminisced about Algeria's great—and enduring—20 year revival.

It is no exaggeration to say that the greatest modern Christian rebirth in the Middle East or North Africa can be attributed to the reawakening of the Church in Algeria's Kabylie region. The Kabylie revival was neither inspired by missionaries nor introduced as a foreign movement, but was ignited by a small group of faithful Believers in an obscure village. It was a rebirth indigenous to the national church where God is using dreams and visions to turn Muslims to Christ. In a country that many consider "closed" to the Gospel and where proselytism is illegal under Algerian law, the steadfast devotion of Algeria's Spirit-led Church has overcome the government's resolve to control the growth of its Christian minority.

It all began in 1981 with a 21-year-old boy from a poor family and a game of football (soccer). On the field, the young man befriended Arab visitors from a church in Algiers. It was the first time he experienced what he later recognized to be a "Christ-like" example, and the first time he heard the Gospel. It was not long before this young man, now known as Pastor Raba, would entrust his life to God and carry the weight of a great calling—reaching the Kabylie region for Christ.

Pastor Raba and three friends formed a group and began meeting weekly.

"We faced many things alone, Pastor Raba explained. "Like new Believers we faced many problems with our families, with the police, and with the authority of the village. We tried to commit together, us four, but we didn't know the Bible and we didn't know how to pray."

The group began attending a church service in Algiers—a three day's journey from their home village—as often as they could, but soon the government forced the church to close its doors. "We then decided to have meetings together even though we didn't know anything, so in prayer we said 'God, we don't know anything, but we are ready if you want to use us.'"

The group allotted the year between 1989 and 1990 for fasting and prayer. A year later, revival broke free.

"During that year we went to villages where there were no Christians, we prayed for the village, and after a few months we would hear that there were Believers there," explained Pastor Raba. "People had dreams, visions, some of them discovered Christian radio programs. We didn't share the Gospel directly with many people, but God in His way, preached the Gospel. It was like an explosion in all the Kabylie area and it's continuing now."

It is estimated that some 80,000 former Muslims in Kabylie have turned to Christ since the beginning of Algeria's great revival. Some churches are seeing incredible growth, including a Tizi Ouzou congregation that began with twelve members in 1996 and now has 900 Believers attending services. In fact, so many are coming to Christ in remote areas that it is becoming difficult to provide them with trained pastors and leadership.

The Church's growth has been most prevalent among the Berbers—not Arabs—whose rich Christian ancestry includes the 4th century theologian Augustine of Hippo.

Source: ASSIST News

God's Very Word

How many times do I take for granted the Bible? I have a whole host of versions and volumes around the house. This video is a great perspective and shows the excitement of a tribe in Indonesia receiving the Bible for the first time in their own heart language. Check it out: