Visitors

For the first time in my years of living overseas I am starting to get visitors who come to hang out with me and see where I live. It has been really wonderful to hear from so many of you who are willing to make the trek to see this beautiful continent and lovely city.

I cannot tell you how much it lifts my spirits to see good friends and be encouraged. Even though I am not fully settled, it is nice to know that people want to come take a look at how I getting along out here. The conversations and hugs have made my summer. Thanks you so much for coming! I hope more of you can make it here too! Looking forward to see those who are coming in the fall.



The Parks family came from Grass Valley, CA after spending time in Morocco.














Hilde flew from South Africa to London where we met and spent lovely days taking pictures.














Jean-Marie (from Santa Rosa, CA) and Susan (from Afghanistan) were in the country for trainings and came to spend the day in Amsterdam.

The Guru

Tonight I attended a bhajan mandalis aka “bhajan” (a gathering to sing bhajans/devotionals) at the family home of a friend’s in Surrey County London. It was a celebration and gathering spurred by the attendance of a family guru or spiritual leader. Apparently this guru’s ancestors were responsible for reintroducing Hinduism to India and my friend’s family has been a disciples of guru’s lineage ever since. From I understand this guru’s family lineage is known for being very gifted and highly revered. Although my main motivation was to go and support my friend and her family who I have come to love, I was also interested in the new experience.

We arrived late to the house and rushed through an obstacle course of shoes (one removes them when entering an Indian home), relatives who were hosting the Bhajan and disapproving looks due to our tardiness. After quickly changing into something more appropriate, we descended the stairs and entered into overflowing rooms filled with about 200 family members who were anxiously waiting to hear from their Baba. We arrived just in time for the initial introductions and blessings of the hosting family (phew) then we sat and made ourselves ready for the coming message by joining in song.

Although I could not understand the words being sung, I could participate in the melody and inflections of the music and singing. The energy and rhythms were infectious and we all clapped hands or tapped along to the music. The people were beautiful, especially the older women. The petite yet powerful grandmothers had faces, which seemed to glow with pride as they surveyed the burgeoning room filled with their descendents. They were honored and respected by everyone in the room; everyone fought to attend to their every desire, need and movement. With their hair simply pulled back into tightly woven buns and understated saris, they stood out in the crowd and drew everyone’s attention – they had presence and grace that just drew you in. Their longevity acted as pillars of great wisdom for the future generations to glean support.

We sat for over three hours joined in song interspersed with messages from the guru. Although I could understand very little of what was said (due to language barrier), one thing really stuck out to me. Baba spoke about the gap between the generations regarding the significance of their faith. Most youth struggle to reconcile religious traditions and spirituality. Somewhere the meanings behind the rituals became lost on the youth, making many Hindu customs seem irrelevant. No matter where I go in the world this seems to be a growing concern of spiritual leaders across many faiths (finally) and a common thread they all share and struggle with daily. I found it interesting Christians and Hindus are experiencing the same tensions and challenges brought on by the wanting to preserve what is significant without holding onto ritualistic behavior that may appear hollow to younger believers. Today most people search for something real and significant; they reach beyond religion and tend to side step anything that cannot fill that void. This is very true also of the Hollanders I meet.

It made me think about how my walk of faith might be perceived by others. Is it something dynamic, comprehensible and inviting to others or does it seem like the mutterings of a woman who is trapped in her habitual rendition of faith? I hope that the people I meet see the former rather than the latter and feel encouraged by and not separated from what and how I believe. That question is one that I will ask myself often as I continue my journey as a Christ follower. Even though we never spoke nor did I engage in the Guru’s teachings, I walked away from that evening a question that will help me evaluate how I am living out what is most important to me.

South Africa to Amsterdam

If you did not get a chance to see this or you were wondering what I have been up to here you go!

London Garden

One of my housemates, Ian, is a landscape designer and caretaker for a private park in Chelsea – He invited Kelley and myself to visit him at his work for lunch so we could have a peak into the life of luxury of British High Society.

We could not pass up the opportunity, so we left mid-morning for the 2-hour journey into the heart of London. It was well worth the trip! The park was Montpelier Square just a brief 3 minutes walk from Harrods, nestled between beautiful homes and smart restaurants where you could spend your days sipping Perrier. The sun was out and the sky was clear blue as we made our way to the south gate to meet our friend. Old lamps that are named after English kings surround the park - I imagine were oil-filled when originally installed. The gates around the garden were black wrought iron with a lovely ivy pattern, secured by tall gates which allowed you to peak into the sacred place.

We were met by a warm smile as Ian and his colleague, Stewart, showed off their handiwork, which won them a bronze medal in last years competition.

We were met by a sea of green, with dashes of brilliant colours. It was very lovely. A few thieving magpies were our only companions as the four of us dinned on our packed lunches in the cool shade on rustic wooden benches. We laughed and exchanged the stories you do when you are getting to know people and sharing in something special.

I really enjoyed this delicious treat in the heart of the city's opulence.

In Pursuit of Weightlessness

Last weeK at the National Portrait Gallery I had the pleasure of listening to Ivan Putrov, a principle dancer from the Royal Ballet, who recently returned from a knee injury that kept him from dancing for 11 months. He quoted from one of Waldemar Janusczak’s critiques were he describes the plight of a ballet dancer, “Spotlit on a stage, isolated from the quotidian demands of the heartbeat, out of reach of the basic rhythms of life, the ballet dancer dreams of the divine state of weightlessness. But — and here we get to the nub of their tragedy — the only time humans ever really achieve that state is when they are dead. Thus, ballet, with its insatiable appetite for zero gravity, is the most tragic of all the arts.”


I really related to this quote because in a way I feel that Christianity his similar in that way. One of the things that we try to achieve is to usher in God’s kingdom here on earth but like weightlessness, we can only achieve such a feat when we are quite literally dead. I mean when we allow ourselves to die to our own agenda, since of entitlement, and greed to name a few, we position ourselves so that we are willing to give more and be more in and to the world we live in. In fleeting moments that humanity achieves such a thing it is beautiful and awe inspiring, much like seeing the ballet dancer who is able to leap with extraordinary ease into the heavens with legs and arms fully extended, gracefully released from the pull of the earth. It takes your breathe away.

It is my dream that Christians would desire to take the worlds breathe away as we lay our lives down and pursue the “weightlessness” of bringing God’s dreams and desires into fruition on this earth. So few people achieve the status of Prima Ballerina, maybe that is why few Christians set out for the task and even less continually strive to remain there. Both ballet and Christianity require countless hours of painful sacrifice and daily practice (which no one sees) to achieve something momentary, and when the moment has passed one goes back to the basics until the next moment presents itself.


In order to effect change in the world by ushering in God’s perspective cannot be done, in my opinion, with picket signs and boycotts. Nor will it be achieved by prayer and fasting alone. It requires action - signing up for a suicide mission. I also believe we (Christians, humanity, etc) need to ditch the idea that true fulfilment comes when we train ourselves to resist our desires. I see things differently - when you die, your deepest desires fulfilled, this is when you become weightless as Janusczak put it so aptly. When you pursue the One who created you and knows you best the crap just falls away, making room for that which is pure, lasting and most satisfying. Crazy yes, but I think it is crazy enough to work.

The Dream Team Assembled

Kelley arrived! Our dream team is officially here. It seems like this day would never come…the three of us (Kelley, Lourens and I) actually say down in the same country to pray and work together.

There is much to do and the momentum is mounting. It seems like we need an extra 10 hours a day to get things done. Lourens left for Brussels and Amsterdam on Saturday, while Kelley and I am working arduously on the charity registration. There is a great chance that we could have all the paperwork done by next week. After that, we tackle our visas!

I love my team!

Blank

Today I visited a big church in London, (that shall remain nameless to protect the innocent) and I walked away feeling slimed. The worship was amazing and the people seemed genuine and friendly. The head of the children's ministry shared about giving in a way that was challenging and inspiring. I started question my whole scepticism of mega-church thing. I could really see myself becoming part of a place; making it my spiritual home and creating lasting friendships...

Then the pastor spoke and my dream was shattered. He was the type of guy that spends all his time telling you how cool and different he is because he does not buy into "church stuff" or "religion" and then does what everyone else does. Yuck! I mean come on! Are you kidding me? In a country where vicars are wearing robes and pastors have on suits, putting on Diesel jeans and leather jacket to be trendy does not make you a trendsetter.

Maybe it is me, maybe I am looking for something that does not exist outside my memory or California. I beg the question…where have all the freaks gone - the people who are marching to God's rhythm and creating ripples in society that create waves of change. I know they are out there; I just need to keep looking.

Angry God?

I found this article online and sent this article out to my regular supporters, but I wanted to share it with my friends as well....

Was Jesus Mean? By Dr. Ray Pritchard

I confess to never having thought about the question until a friend raised it in an email recently.

Was Jesus mean? The answer, obviously, is no. I think the question is meant to highlight a deeper issue. Why are some of the followers of Jesus so mean if he wasn't? I don't know that I can adequately answer that question without going back to the question of Jesus himself.

Jesus was not mean, but he could be very, very tough. He sometimes used very strong language when speaking to people he regarded as hypocrites. In a withering excoriation of religious hypocrisy in Matthew 23, he compared the scribes and Pharisees to whitewashed tombs, which is a worse insult than it sounds because the religious leaders prided themselves on their outward righteousness. He could be tough on his own followers also. In Mark 8:14-21 he tells his disciples that they are spiritual blind and have hard hearts. When he appeared to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, he calls them "foolish ones" and "slow of heart to believe" (Luke 24:25). He told certain Jewish leaders in John 8:44, "You are of your father the devil." The notion that our Lord was always "gentle Jesus, meek and mild," as if he spent his days saying nice things to make people feel better is only possible if you never read the gospels.

He was gentle and meek and mild and kind. But that's not the whole story.

He also demanded that his followers commit themselves to him wholeheartedly.

He had no patience for hypocrites who took advantage of others while ignoring their own sin.

Say what you want about Jesus, but don't forget that he took a whip and overturned the tables of the moneychangers, driving them out of temple precincts because they had made a house of prayer into a den of robbers.

Jesus could be very, very tough.

But was he mean? The answer may rest in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps some of the Pharisees and those moneychangers whose tables he overturned thought he was mean. After all, it was precisely because of his righteousness that they plotted to put him to death. His zeal for God aroused envy that turned to murderous hatred.

But was he mean? A quick check of the dictionary gives us these definitions and synonyms: offensive . . . selfish . . . nasty . . . malicious . . . small-minded . . . contemptible . . . petty . . . cruel . . . vindictive.

None of those words applies to Jesus. Isaiah 42 speaks of God's servant who will come to establish justice in the land. It is a prophecy of the coming of Christ to the earth. The prophet says of the Servant of the Lord that "He will not shout or raise his voice in public"(v. 2 NLT). That seems like a good standard for evaluating our actions. Mean people use threats to get their way. They shout because they are angry and fearful of losing control. They raise their voice when they would be better served by remaining calm. Mean people use ridicule and biting sarcasm to put others down. They are contentious and unkind and they mistreat others and don't think anyone of it.

Was Jesus mean? No, but he could be very, very tough. I admit there is a fine line here, but I also say that Jesus never came close to crossing that line. He was tough when he needed to be tough and tender when he needed to be tender. He knew how to treat each person exactly as they deserved to be treated. That includes blind beggars, sincere questioners, little children and proud Pharisees. Everyone got what they needed from Jesus. Some of them, like the rich young ruler, went away sorrowful, others marveled, the common people loved him, and many of the rulers hated him for his honesty.

So why are some of Jesus' followers so mean? I can't answer that question, but I know I need to look into the mirror and think about my own life. A mean Christian is not just a contradiction in terms; it is a terrible slander on our Lord. When Christians are mean, when we raise our voices in anger, when we use cruel words to hurt and not to heal, we give outsiders yet one more reason to disregard what we believe.

…It makes you think. Alycia

Bureaucracy is everywhere

Remember my TIA entry? Well maybe this one should be titled TIB, this is Britain! All the jokes about queuing and having a department for everything under the sun seemed to crash into my reality.

I am in the throws of importing my personal items to the UK from South Africa. I hired a forwarding agent in SA to complete all the forms for Britain and read the new legislation (changed 26 March) to make sure all was in order. Every person I spoke to in the HM Revenue and Taxes assured me that all was well and I only had to pick up items with my passport at arrivals.

Day One:

My second day here, I called the number for freight at Gatwick. The phone rang for no less than 3 minutes then I was cut off. I made subsequent attempts but no one ever picked up.

Day Two:

I checked the calendar to make sure there were no holidays I was forgetting and tried again. No luck. I called their branch at Heathrow to confirm the number, spoke with several supervisors who all told me that the number I had was correct. One gentleman told me he spoke with the Gatwick offices earlier that day so I was assured to keep calling. It was even suggested that I check the phone line.

Day Three:

Called Heathrow again to check the status of the shipment that was flying today. I was told that I was mistaken and the freight would not leave SA until the next day and I would need to hire a UK agent because civilians can not self clear packages as it was strictly ruled out by HM Customs as of 26 March. A supervisor went so far to take the number of my South African agent to give them an earful. As he read through the documents to me over the phone (the same one I had been using), his voiced trailed off as his mouth pronounced the words I so carefully quoted to him 3 hours previously. To this he offered apologies and passed me on to yet another person.

This person proceeded to tell me my items actually arrive the previous day and that I was going to be charged stowage unless I could process customs in the remaining 15 minutes before they closed. Which meant, I would have to hire an agent who miraculously could process my documents 24 hours a day. So I rushed the documents to the forwarding agent, only to be told the items were only leaving Jo'burg that evening for arrival at Heathrow in the morning, then transport to Gatwick by early afternoon.

Day Four:

My items arrived at Heathrow and I am now prepared with documents in hand to complete the transactions myself sans the agent. I have doted my "i's" and crossed all my "t's" – I was ready for anything they would dish out. Until I was told that the items would not go to Gatwick until this evening …Friday evening (as the day crew was in training), meaning customs would be closed until Tuesday (May Day on Monday so they are closed). All this translated to three days of stowage charges or hiring an agent all at about £200 more than I was intending to spend. The cherry on top, was the agent telling me I would have filed the previous day after-hours for processing in the morning.

I love bureaucracy!

A Lively Bunch of Vicars!

Tonight I witnessed the induction and licensing of a new vicar and wife into the Romford parishes St. John's and St. James' of the Anglican Church. I was invited by my host Lyn Hunt to meet the new couple as 13^thFLOOR may work with them.

One of my friends leaned over and joked about it being a party for old men in dresses, as per tradition, the vicars, bishops and archbishops donned their finest for such and occasion – that is the traditional long black robes with the white frilly shirts beneath complete with black armbands to hold the frilled sleeves together (as worn before the invention of cufflinks). I was expecting the evening to hold little spunk but I was pleasantly surprised.

The sermon by the Archbishop of Barking was about our mission as the church to dig deep into the neighbourhoods God plant us in and effect change from within, rather than looking down on people as charity cases we are to take pity on. He also challenged the new parish couple to lead in this by example as well as in instruction. It was quite inspiring.

The traditional licensing, replete with giving of keys, promenades and numerous prayers and congregational responses, was uncharacteristically littered with humour and thoughtful asides. All in all it was a pleasant evening and these particular vicars were far from stuffy.

Driving in Kent

Believe it or not I drove for my first time in the UK. I have driven in many other European cities but London has been one I have avoided vehemently. Every time I saw the aggressive way the drivers attacked the road and often each other, it really put me off. Why drive when you can catch the tube, take a bus or walk anywhere you want to go – often faster and cheaper than in a car.

My friend Suzanne is entering her 36^th week of pregnancy and she let her licence lapse, so I have become her chauffer of sorts to help her out. She live in Chiselhurst, which is in Kent, where the roads are narrow and the scenery is lush and green this time of year. We needed to fetch her husband from the station last night because he had too many things to carry or so he would have us believe.

And of course they have a SAAB sedan in impeccable shape, which was parked in a lot that could only be described as an obstacle course – each neighbour parks their Jag, Range Rovers and Mercedes as they please in parking area that is common to the surrounding three homes. No pressure! Everything was different, the console looked like that of a jet while the gearbox consisted of some ancient Chinese secret to lend it self to reverse.

I took a deep breathe and eased the car pack. I was frightened when the parking assistant started to ring, letting me know there was a multi-thousand pound vehicle at my rear. Eventually I found my footing and eased through the narrow gate that leads into traffic. I was to go left, so I reached for what I thought was the turn indicator only to turn on the windshield wipers. Passing motorist looked as perplexed as I felt in that moment. Eventually I found the indicator on the opposite side of my familiarity and turned off the offending wipers. I had embarrassed my self, so it was time to try again. I made it to the station and back with out further events. Andrew, Suzanne's husband complimented me on my driving and enjoyed being driven around for a change.

Today Suzanne and I ran errands in the neighbouring towns. I had the discomfort of driving down streets svelter than a super-model's waist with cars parked on either side with oncoming traffic. It was like driving on a tight rope! Then I came to the mystical London circle where everyone knows the rules but abandons them in favour of personal convenience. I took a deep breathe and entered the large circle that had about 5 exits, 2 of which were ones that I could not enter. We made it through without incident.

When we made it home and I turned off the ignition and exclaimed, "I've been baptised!"

The Climb

I have to say my time in London was a whirlwind to say the least. So much was accomplished but at the same time, I spied the mountain ahead we must climb. As I stood in its shadow I thought, only God can make this happen, then happily breathed a sigh of relief.

I met with many people for various reasons. A ministry called the Core that feeds homeless people through out the city; Scripture Union's Richard Shaw, who will help us work with UK schools and churches; artist who are interested in working with our ministry; barristers, consultants, schoolteachers and students whose input was invaluable; and friends both those I have longed to see and new ones I cannot wait to know better.

As of today we are officially registered as 13^thFLOOR as a company! Now we can apply for our charity status, open a bank account and tackle a mountain of paperwork. This was a very important step towards establishing ourselves in the UK. It moves us closer to becoming a recognized service organization that others seek for partnership. Several companies I met with are anxious for the completion of our accreditation so they can work with us.

I believe this trip encouraged me to dream big and trust deeply in all that God is doing and moving for this team to move to the UK. A few months back the story of Gideon was linked to our team, we will be a small but mighty army of ragtag individuals who follow God's lead into a victory. That is my prayer for us that we will always be in a position where God can lead us towards victory in the UK for the people we will encounter and hopefully transform.
It is time to start climbing!

Tears for Africa

So I thought it would be easy to walk away from South Africa - to move on to London and start a new life. Last night that hasty assumption was shattered in the most unlikely of circumstances.

Some of you may remember Adam Morris from my days at CAI; he is the son of one of the staff members who I befriended while we lead the first youth conference for missionary kids. Well Adam lives in Nottingham and came to the city last night so we could catch up. He bought tickets for us to see The Lion King musical and we had the most amazing seats. We are both theatre nuts so we expected to be in for an amazing time. The moment the curtains opened and the singers started to sing in Zulu, I broke out in tears!

I could not believe it! As the music and voices grew, I was reduced to a sobbing mess. At that moment, I started to realise how much I will miss Africa. It just snuck up on me. Suddenly, I was flooded with thousands of images, scenes and experiences that I will genuinely grieve as I move from the place of their origin.

It truly became Mama Africa, to me, because of the hearts of the many people who accepted me into their family. Africa, particularly South Africa, is a place and a country that is in metamorphosis and I too became caught up in her flux. I will miss crawling into to the warmth of her bosom, where one is nurtured and strengthened. Africa has made me stronger and I will carry her strength with me, but I also pray for the strength to leave her when the time comes.

London Baby

I am leaving for London tonight and I am filled with such anticipation. I have not been in Europe since 2003, but I have fond memories of my last visits. I will spend most of my time working on 13thFloor's charity status paperwork, finalizing documents for our office and living quarters. There is so much to get done. I am exhausted just thinking about all there is to do but to quote a familiar line from Friends, "I'm going to London baby!"