In T minus not so many hours, a small herd of us fly to Rwanda, kicking off an 8 week outreach. We'll be in Kigali for 3 weeks and then journeying through Burundi for 5 weeks working with a plethora of people and organizations including but not limited to leading conferences on reconciliation, prison , mercy, HIV/AIDS, and orphan ministries. Pretty nutty. I suspect while dressed in long Christian skirts, baking under the African sun we will experience the Lord in unfathomable ways, and long drop toilets too. So pray for us. We'll be out of the loop for two months so if you want an update, and I think you do, click this thing down below and sign up, and somehow you will happily receive a witty review of our exploits by yours truly. Until then, love, adventures and many thanks for all your support.
http://mail.ywamni.com/mailman/listinfo/team-rnb-updates_ywamni.com
Sunday, 23 March 2008
Sunday, 9 March 2008
Pretentious Musings
Daylight hangs in the air on a sagging cloth, heavy and light, Sunday draws to a close. Behind me, four months set in history, dense and colorful, surreal and tangibly good. Before me, two short weeks in this strange house with this motley crew and then another journey. This nomadic life is rich, zesty, passionate, and forever painful. Thrusting oneself into another territory, offering one’s heart to a new cast, settling in such transcendent circumstances yields abundance and ache; separation is inevitable. I always feel the stakes being pulled up from under me, but God it is beautiful.
Our man Bill Shakespeare wrote: “These churling chiding winds remind me that I am alive.” I recite this often as I trudge up the Shankill, flailing in shrapnel gales. It’s all rather uncomfortable, quite imperfect, and at the same time impeccably alive. This is a life better than I could have imagined or manufactured for myself. Exposure is key. The world, poverty, ideas, love, people, exposure charges my gates and makes a bridge out of my defenses. If you unfold crossed arms, open up a tense chest, extend a downward gaze, you can move, breathe, and see more. The senses are invigorated. Goo, it leaves you vulnerable to icy breezes, awkward people will give you awkward hugs- or perhaps no hugs at all, bits of debris shooting in the air can lodge in your eyeballs. However according to my calculations exchanges made in this posture are invaluable. So off I go, to a new place, open for embrace, sure to cry and sure to live.
Wednesday, 16 January 2008
Home or Something Like It
A week that looked like a traffic light reflecting off a rainy street at night. There were simple celebrations through subtle integration into the city. It’s hard to be reminded you’re a foreigner every day. The novelty of a new scene began to wear and leave me antsy for branches into Belfast that would breathe life and wholeness. Much to society’s dismay, I am quite poor at living casually, skimming on the top. Instead I arrive with the need to dig my feet in and what some might spot as an uncharted or even awkward enthusiasm for new people. I will go ahead and dismiss accusations of social ineptitude and attribute it to my desire to make a new home for myself. As much as I’d like to be a vagabond, there seems to be an internal push to arrive, unpack, and wave to Alan down the street or something. I want to be impressed upon by Belfast, to leave unscathed would be to miss the whole point. Hopefully in some way it will bear just one of my small fingerprints, too. In little strands, God delivered refreshment and connectivity.
When I was in Milwaukee, Morning Star made the city a home for me; in London it was Hillsong. I suppose it’s no surprise that my church here is doing the same, constructing a wee tent for me to live under. It’s always about people. After shuffling from YWAM function to YWAM function for five weeks, I stepped foot into warm, decorated, clean and unaffiliated flats filled- though not over capacity- with lovely City Church goers. Hooray, hazaa there’s life outside the organization! What’s that, there’s a chair for just me to sit on, delightful. Rejoicing in small victories is the name of the game. With personal space temporarily reinstated, I got to meander in conversation and hear stories. Gorgeous. The glory of the week only heightens from there. I saw a film with friends… in a movie theater! The film was a disaster, but for some strange reason it gave me the strongest sensation of normalcy that I needed. I got to sit with friends for hours at a time and hash out lives and be quiet when answers were not there. It’s a gorgeous thing to have time and space and people to sit with. These were blazing moments. And now, let me make public confession. It seems that whence removed from one’s home environment, true colors are made apparent and it was made apparent how shallow and desperate I really am. I went to Starbucks. And it elated my soul. Christmas music and peppermint hot chocolate and red holiday cups, oh Starbucks you’re such a siren. These moments are indicative of a niche being formed. Whatever, I like it here. Please don’t judge me.
When I was in Milwaukee, Morning Star made the city a home for me; in London it was Hillsong. I suppose it’s no surprise that my church here is doing the same, constructing a wee tent for me to live under. It’s always about people. After shuffling from YWAM function to YWAM function for five weeks, I stepped foot into warm, decorated, clean and unaffiliated flats filled- though not over capacity- with lovely City Church goers. Hooray, hazaa there’s life outside the organization! What’s that, there’s a chair for just me to sit on, delightful. Rejoicing in small victories is the name of the game. With personal space temporarily reinstated, I got to meander in conversation and hear stories. Gorgeous. The glory of the week only heightens from there. I saw a film with friends… in a movie theater! The film was a disaster, but for some strange reason it gave me the strongest sensation of normalcy that I needed. I got to sit with friends for hours at a time and hash out lives and be quiet when answers were not there. It’s a gorgeous thing to have time and space and people to sit with. These were blazing moments. And now, let me make public confession. It seems that whence removed from one’s home environment, true colors are made apparent and it was made apparent how shallow and desperate I really am. I went to Starbucks. And it elated my soul. Christmas music and peppermint hot chocolate and red holiday cups, oh Starbucks you’re such a siren. These moments are indicative of a niche being formed. Whatever, I like it here. Please don’t judge me.
Forgiveness Week
Many moons ago, 25 years or 9125 moons to be specific, a Dr. Bob Enwright began research on the concept of forgiveness and its effect within conflict areas. With Belfast as his subject, he found that those on the “forgiveness journey” had greater psychological health and were better able to re-integrate into society compared to a control group. YWAM Belfast’s Forgiveness Team took Dr. Enwright’s dissertation and created a curriculum that they present to local schools all over the country, other nations of conflict, and one fateful week, to our DTS. In attempts to share the magic that was, I will now plagiarize the masterful ideas of others.
It was a week laced in great compassion for the human story, validating each individual wound, and embracing each situation’s complexity. We didn’t proceed an inch without laying a foundation of humanity; every person- regardless of station, belief, or action- is indeed human and entitled to dignity and love. Forgiveness is essential to these elements. Forgiveness is learning how to remember the past from a different lens, where hurt and anger do not dictate. Journey is key, it is a process of no particular time frame. No graph exists measuring time versus intensity of wound inflicted. The forgiveness journey actually engages a person where he or she lies and allows them to stand still or slowly walks forward. It’s all a bit abstract, but at the same time, everyone had tasted these ideas in real life.
And now from my mind to yours, the famed steps: Step One) Acknowledge anger. Two) Decide not to take revenge but decide to forgive. Three) Look at the bigger picture, examine the sides, and accept a shared humanity. Four) Change feelings and digest empathy. Five) Live from your best self.
Healthy anger and acknowledgement of injustice are essential to dealing with hurt. Here is the origin of healing. People need to tell their story of hurt many times over and need to be heard many times over. Revenge- regardless of how intense, how passive, or how active- cinches a person’s humanity and the instigator becomes the personification of the act he or she committed. Even more, bitterness begins to chip away at a wounded person’s soul, and their hurt can steer thoughts and actions. Revenge is enslavement for all parties involved. Forgiveness is freedom. Most of us have issues never tapped, never expressed that knowingly or not drive us to some degree. This is not to say that forgiveness is- gasp- the obvious or easy option. Most likely, forgiveness is the least satisfactory avenue possible, but again, it’s a process with which one chooses to engage. After time and storytelling, questions and dialogue, an imperfect but wider view of a situation emerges and allows a person to let go. Conclusions of culpability are not revised, but instead you gather every memory, every tear, every degree of hurt, hold it with the other side of the story, and let go. From there, a healing person is allowed to retake their life, to live in abundance and out of who they were meant to be. Except everything is messier, longer, and harder. But you get the idea.
We went into St. Louise’s College, a Catholic high school on the Falls Road, to present the idea of forgiveness journey to classes of 16 and 17 year old girls. It was nothing but riveting, posing thoughts and questions that some of them had never thought about. Does every human deserve love? What about murderers? What about terrorists? They discussed division and how to deal with people who have hurt them. A few moments just blew me away. One blonde haired girl piped up to explain how people aren’t bad or good because their Catholic or Protestant but because of their actions. She went on to share that her uncle was betrayed and killed by a Protestant friend, but she can’t rule out every Protestant just because of that. Incredible.
Theory became personal as we used our own hurts to understand the journey. Art, expression, dialogue, and prayer unearthed the sediment of latent feelings and took it out by the roots. Their gentle words of truth touched wiry wounds and I went home crawling each day. But I needed it then, my heart exists in a lighter state now. It’s a lesson I put in my pocket ready for the inevitable; whether to hand out in hope of my own absolution or to recall when the next abrasion arrives.
It was a week laced in great compassion for the human story, validating each individual wound, and embracing each situation’s complexity. We didn’t proceed an inch without laying a foundation of humanity; every person- regardless of station, belief, or action- is indeed human and entitled to dignity and love. Forgiveness is essential to these elements. Forgiveness is learning how to remember the past from a different lens, where hurt and anger do not dictate. Journey is key, it is a process of no particular time frame. No graph exists measuring time versus intensity of wound inflicted. The forgiveness journey actually engages a person where he or she lies and allows them to stand still or slowly walks forward. It’s all a bit abstract, but at the same time, everyone had tasted these ideas in real life.
And now from my mind to yours, the famed steps: Step One) Acknowledge anger. Two) Decide not to take revenge but decide to forgive. Three) Look at the bigger picture, examine the sides, and accept a shared humanity. Four) Change feelings and digest empathy. Five) Live from your best self.
Healthy anger and acknowledgement of injustice are essential to dealing with hurt. Here is the origin of healing. People need to tell their story of hurt many times over and need to be heard many times over. Revenge- regardless of how intense, how passive, or how active- cinches a person’s humanity and the instigator becomes the personification of the act he or she committed. Even more, bitterness begins to chip away at a wounded person’s soul, and their hurt can steer thoughts and actions. Revenge is enslavement for all parties involved. Forgiveness is freedom. Most of us have issues never tapped, never expressed that knowingly or not drive us to some degree. This is not to say that forgiveness is- gasp- the obvious or easy option. Most likely, forgiveness is the least satisfactory avenue possible, but again, it’s a process with which one chooses to engage. After time and storytelling, questions and dialogue, an imperfect but wider view of a situation emerges and allows a person to let go. Conclusions of culpability are not revised, but instead you gather every memory, every tear, every degree of hurt, hold it with the other side of the story, and let go. From there, a healing person is allowed to retake their life, to live in abundance and out of who they were meant to be. Except everything is messier, longer, and harder. But you get the idea.
We went into St. Louise’s College, a Catholic high school on the Falls Road, to present the idea of forgiveness journey to classes of 16 and 17 year old girls. It was nothing but riveting, posing thoughts and questions that some of them had never thought about. Does every human deserve love? What about murderers? What about terrorists? They discussed division and how to deal with people who have hurt them. A few moments just blew me away. One blonde haired girl piped up to explain how people aren’t bad or good because their Catholic or Protestant but because of their actions. She went on to share that her uncle was betrayed and killed by a Protestant friend, but she can’t rule out every Protestant just because of that. Incredible.
Theory became personal as we used our own hurts to understand the journey. Art, expression, dialogue, and prayer unearthed the sediment of latent feelings and took it out by the roots. Their gentle words of truth touched wiry wounds and I went home crawling each day. But I needed it then, my heart exists in a lighter state now. It’s a lesson I put in my pocket ready for the inevitable; whether to hand out in hope of my own absolution or to recall when the next abrasion arrives.
Thursday, 13 December 2007
Harpenden
We took the circus on the road two weeks ago and pitched our tent in Harpenden, England. Let me tell you, in terms of YWAM bases, it was upgrading from the Bates Motel to The Ritz. There was space, there was grass, there were tables and chairs, oh my. And I got to pop into London to refresh my soul in one of my favorite places on the planet. It was as if returning to Narnia, a bit of a dream, though our purpose there was no fluffy affair.
For a week we sat before Carl Stauffer, as he lead us through a bit of training and discussion on reconciliation. An animated fellow, Carl worked in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa and mediates civil conflicts throughout Africa. Peace building, trauma healing, restorative justice, Mr. Stauffer walked us through the practical and gritty work that lies in the reconciliation field. The big R word happens in little ways, in a long process that is founded in recognizing everyone’s humanity and value, that everyone has a story and motives and forces that drives action. The Lord needs people to walk alongside others in this process, to sit in puddles of despair with them, to create a safe space to dialogue in, to rise together past anger.
He spoke at the frequency of my heart. I left this graphic week tired and wondering could this be for me…
For a week we sat before Carl Stauffer, as he lead us through a bit of training and discussion on reconciliation. An animated fellow, Carl worked in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa and mediates civil conflicts throughout Africa. Peace building, trauma healing, restorative justice, Mr. Stauffer walked us through the practical and gritty work that lies in the reconciliation field. The big R word happens in little ways, in a long process that is founded in recognizing everyone’s humanity and value, that everyone has a story and motives and forces that drives action. The Lord needs people to walk alongside others in this process, to sit in puddles of despair with them, to create a safe space to dialogue in, to rise together past anger.
He spoke at the frequency of my heart. I left this graphic week tired and wondering could this be for me…
Saturday, 8 December 2007
Translations
Trousers = Pants
Pants = Underwear
Jumper = Sweater
Biscuits = cookies
Tea = dinner
Supper = after dinner snack
Toilet/loo/Jack = bathroom
Hole in the wall = ATM/cash machine
Pudding = dessert
Builder's Bum = Plumber's CrackCulchie = Country folk
Bog = Toilet
Birds = Girls
Blokes/Lads = Boys
Wick =Bad
Cuppa = Cup of tea
Janey Mac = something shocking
Gutties = boots
Trainers/runners = sneakers
Phone box = phone booth
Plasters = band aids
A&E = ER
Settee = couch/sofa
Chips = French fries
Chippy = fast food joints
Screw = Police officer
Lorry = truck
Left on the shelf = older single woman
Trolley = shopping cart
Camp = effeminate
Jotters = notebooks
Brolly = umbrella
Ginger = red head
Jog On= Scew You
Taking a Piss= Making fun
There's nothing like a little pants mix up to light up a crowd.
Pants = Underwear
Jumper = Sweater
Biscuits = cookies
Tea = dinner
Supper = after dinner snack
Toilet/loo/Jack = bathroom
Hole in the wall = ATM/cash machine
Pudding = dessert
Builder's Bum = Plumber's CrackCulchie = Country folk
Bog = Toilet
Birds = Girls
Blokes/Lads = Boys
Wick =Bad
Cuppa = Cup of tea
Janey Mac = something shocking
Gutties = boots
Trainers/runners = sneakers
Phone box = phone booth
Plasters = band aids
A&E = ER
Settee = couch/sofa
Chips = French fries
Chippy = fast food joints
Screw = Police officer
Lorry = truck
Left on the shelf = older single woman
Trolley = shopping cart
Camp = effeminate
Jotters = notebooks
Brolly = umbrella
Ginger = red head
Jog On= Scew You
Taking a Piss= Making fun
There's nothing like a little pants mix up to light up a crowd.
Friday, 30 November 2007
Beginnings
Many tall, thick days have passed since arriving November 3rd. Already, I am more and less of myself than ever before. Situated behind bars, barbed wire windows, and a thirty foot peace wall I am free, free to explore and become who I am meant to be. This place is perfect for me. There is a spark to this group, an aroma of honesty and unabated life. From Sri Lanka, Palestine, USA, Canada, Ireland, Northern Ireland, South Africa, and Holland, these strangers have become my patchwork family. On the surface one could say we hardly know each other, yet something is at work within us, the joining of roots under the surface.
We have messy little routines each day: start the shower rota at 630 am, catch the toilet seat before it slaps you on the back (permanently broken), enjoy your 15 minutes of shower solitude, shuffle around the 3 people in your room to dress, 20 minutes of hustling down the Shankill over rubbish strew streets, wave to the mural of the Queen Mum looking like a Muppet, arrive at St. Michaels Church for lectures. Proceed to huddle around the two functioning heaters, hold tea mugs for warmth, laugh hysterically and think provocatively about faith and violence and hope until 2. Then scatter for respective chores, errands, and meanderings gathering back at our house by 6. For 6 is dinner and only the quick get to sit on couches, the rest on the floor. Continue to laugh until it's your time to wash the dishes. Then you feel overwhelmed by the amassing dishes in our pantry sized kitchen, proceed to laugh, wash, rejoin the group, and account the tales of the day. Also it is a necessity to find time during the week to eat potatoes 4 times and get rained on 6 times, absolutely.
Yes there is indeed something at work in our leaning houses. Perhaps if you looked at it from above you'd think we throw pixie dust against the walls, as there is a glow amidst a general gloom in the neighborhood. Which is exactly the point. West Belfast is a blighted community; forgotten by the momentum of development and prosperity, left as a functioning though severed limb. And we are there in our imperfect, small way to say no, you will not be forgotten, it does not have to be like this. It is a post war community, stunted by generations of trauma and disenfranchisement, living in a period of tolerance for the "other side." But YWAM Belfast has the vision to move beyond just tolerance to interdependence and reconciliation. And a vision to do this with respect not condescension, dignity not pity, and listening not imposition. For that I am so proud to be here.
We have messy little routines each day: start the shower rota at 630 am, catch the toilet seat before it slaps you on the back (permanently broken), enjoy your 15 minutes of shower solitude, shuffle around the 3 people in your room to dress, 20 minutes of hustling down the Shankill over rubbish strew streets, wave to the mural of the Queen Mum looking like a Muppet, arrive at St. Michaels Church for lectures. Proceed to huddle around the two functioning heaters, hold tea mugs for warmth, laugh hysterically and think provocatively about faith and violence and hope until 2. Then scatter for respective chores, errands, and meanderings gathering back at our house by 6. For 6 is dinner and only the quick get to sit on couches, the rest on the floor. Continue to laugh until it's your time to wash the dishes. Then you feel overwhelmed by the amassing dishes in our pantry sized kitchen, proceed to laugh, wash, rejoin the group, and account the tales of the day. Also it is a necessity to find time during the week to eat potatoes 4 times and get rained on 6 times, absolutely.
Yes there is indeed something at work in our leaning houses. Perhaps if you looked at it from above you'd think we throw pixie dust against the walls, as there is a glow amidst a general gloom in the neighborhood. Which is exactly the point. West Belfast is a blighted community; forgotten by the momentum of development and prosperity, left as a functioning though severed limb. And we are there in our imperfect, small way to say no, you will not be forgotten, it does not have to be like this. It is a post war community, stunted by generations of trauma and disenfranchisement, living in a period of tolerance for the "other side." But YWAM Belfast has the vision to move beyond just tolerance to interdependence and reconciliation. And a vision to do this with respect not condescension, dignity not pity, and listening not imposition. For that I am so proud to be here.
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