This poor blog is in a sad state of neglect....
Monday and Tuesday were Catherine days over here. She and I met up in Belfast as already mentioned and spent the two days together. Tuesday afternoon, we went to the beach. Both of us just lay in the sand in the sunshine and dozed before she took me to the McCollums' house.
Thanks to an endless succession of social activities and Emmaline's small Volkswagen, we've been driving all over everywhere: to Lisburn for a funeral on Wednesday, then to Cloughmills for a meeting of synod; to Belfast for a CU small group reunion on Thursday, then to Newtownards on Friday to drop off a wedding present. In between times we chased cows up and down roads, changed fences, and worked on various lessons for our separate mission teams.
Saturday was running errands around Coleraine day, and the Glenmanus RP Go Team arrived Saturday evening. Yesterday, we went for a soaking wet walk on the beach after church, and today we handed out leaflets all morning. This afternoon we had a Bible study and raided the church loft for games equipment.
I said good-bye to almost everyone this evening. If nothing else, it's simply strange not to be here, not to be able to meet up with Emmaline and Catherine and Rachel and Daphne and Amy and everyone. Unnatural. I hate the string of good-byes, leaving people behind one after the other, not knowing when I'll see them again. I already miss them, missing part of my body, and I haven't even left the country yet.
None of this is particularly newsworthy, though. Second verse, same as the first (almost, anyway). I want to be in one place with the people I love. Nothing new or different.
But that desire isn't enough. Trying to satisfy oneself on one's friends is dangerous. For one thing, it imperils the friendship, I think. Expecting too much puts pressure on everyone and diminishes the existence of Christlike grace in the relationship. Even simply wanting to be happy isn't enough. Happiness lasts for five minutes and ends as soon as the conversation or meal or afternoon is over. Despite that, I go to these things for satisfaction. I go to them again and again, like the Samaritan woman in John 4, trying to quench my thirst without ever having rest.
Somehow it sounds proud to say, 'I'll settle for nothing less than God Himself!' As though I'm so high-and-mighty that nothing else is good enough. Yet since our greatest act of pride was to decide that we would be the ones to choose what satisfied us, not God, perhaps it is actually an act of humility to set everything else aside. To lay aside all my attempts to make everything play out perfectly, all my attempts to please everyone. To say that none of that matters, only God and obeying His revealed will.
But that's very hard. My habits refuse to die. I'd much rather be pleased right here, right now, rather than pursuing some far-off, invisible satisfaction.
To that question it would be so easy to give the pat answer, 'Aha! Your satisfaction has been made visible! Christ was incarnate, and now He reigns in Heaven!' It is true, truth of truths, but the fact that my mind spits that answer out so easily reflects a lack of real understanding--of how deep my sin runs, of how much agony results from seeking satisfaction in other places, of how painful it is to pursue Christ, of how much Christ's incarnation cost for Him.
The truth is that I probably won't ever be at peace on this earth. Tiredness, loneliness, and despair will probably be an ingredient of most days here because I am sinful and so are the people around me.
On Saturday night, Emmaline chose James 1:2-5 as the Holiday Bible Club memory verse. God gives generously. And 'He rewards those who seek Him' (Hebrews 11:6). I need to devote myself so much more to learning about Him, to thinking about what He has done and what His will in the Scriptures means. So that when I am thirsty like this and dead tired, I can have real comfort, not just in 'Oh, you'll see them again,' or even 'Oh, you're going to Heaven,' but in the Lord Himself, who is the centre of every friendship and the crown of Heaven's glory.
15 June 2009
10 June 2009
Now Playing: Indelible Grace, 'Pilgrim Days', 'Psalm 73'.
Nicole and I arrived safely in Belfast on May 22, took the bus, and got to Renwick at about one o'clock in the afternoon. We spent the weekend with Rachel and Daphne in their house up the Stranmillis Road. Everyone was revising for exams, so Nicole and I spent most of the time either sleeping or wandering around the city. The spring continental market was on in front of city hall, so we went down there and tried some of the exotic foods one lunchtime. The roses were just beginning to bloom in the gardens. We went to church at Shaftesbury Square on Sabbath day, and Rosemary cooked lunch for a whole bunch of us at her house afterward.
On Tuesday, Nicole and I flew over to Edinburgh, where we met Alyson. She gave us both enormous hugs. We walked the Royal Mile and, purely by accident, chose the most American restaurant on the Mile for lunch. Then took the bus to St. Andrew's, where we spent a couple of nights, helping Alyson pack, eating fish-and-chips, and going to the beach.
On Thursday, the three of us flew from Edinburgh to Pisa. Most of Europe was covered in cloud, but as we left England, I saw the white cliffs of Dover. Later, we saw the Alps, rearing massive and terrifying toward the plane. When we stepped off the plane in Pisa, the air was warm and smelled of jasmine. Blue Appenines in the distance.
Our week in Florence was lovely. We stayed in a convent in the city centre for four nights and then in a hostel on the edge of the city for three nights. The people in the convent were very kind, and the people in the hostel were entertaining (thirty French girls in the bathroom all getting ready at six o'clock one morning; a drunk Spanish guy shouting at Alyson and me one evening; a Chinese girl describing her Spanish lessons to a German girl in English at breakfast).
The city itself was very beautiful. Rich colors, warm terra cotta, gold, brown, umber, green, red. The churches and the gardens were my favorite parts, although the Accademia and Uffizi art galleries were spectacular in their own way. Santa Croce, San Maria Novella, and Orsanmichele, the three churches we saw properly, were all so beautiful. Full of frescoes by famous Renaissance and medieval painters, forests of arched columns, tombs of famous thinkers and artists. We went to mass in the Duomo on Sabbath day, which was quite an experience. At the moment when the priest elevated the host, not only was the organ playing, but suddenly the bells began to ring in the campanile far overhead, and the noise filled the enormous space, magnificent echoes rippling through the massive domes.
The food was also good. Our best meals were actually the ones we scraped together in grocery stores: bread, strange cheese, and whatever meat looked good. Nicole usually chose the cheese, and it was always something none of us had seen before (except the first day, when we ate gorgonzola). The fresh peaches, strawberries, and grapes were absolutely delicious.
We spent all of one day walking around gardens on one of the hilltops. Of course that was the one day it rained, but still, the gardens were quite lovely. Not much was blooming, but it was refreshing to wander down long aisles of trees after spending several days trying to navigate on the city streets.
On Thursday, we flew from Pisa to Edinburgh, and the three of us spent the night in a hostel just off the Mile. Alyson left early in the morning to return to the States. Strange to have our trip over and our threesome split up. Nicole and I flew to Belfast that day, and the Wilsons met us at the airport. We spent the weekend with them and went to Trinity on Sabbath day. Everyone welcomed us back. The Flemings and Officers each have a beautiful new baby girl. The Flemings' girl shares my middle name, and the Officers' girl just couldn't stop smiling at Nicole.
Sabbath evening, Mr. and Mrs. W took us back to Rachel and Daphne's house in Belfast, where we spent the night. At a quarter past four Monday morning, Nicole and I walked down to the Europa station, where she got the bus to the airport. Strange and sad to say good-bye, to have all our planning and sightseeing and fellowship over for the moment.
I spent Monday and Tuesday with Catherine mostly. We went up to Ballymoney on Tuesday, and from there we drove to Portstewart Strand Tuesday afternoon. The day was beautiful, light rippling over the small green hills as over water, vibrant, living colors. The sea was rich cobalt, very calm, sailboats on the water. Clouds were coming up over the cliffs of Donegal to the south, but Catherine and I spent a couple of restful hours lying on the sand dunes in the sunshine.
Then she left me at the McCollums' house in time for tea. It was as though I'd never been away. This morning Mr. M had Emmaline and me both up to chase cows into the fields after they'd been milked, and then Emmaline and I drove to Lisburn. I'm spending the afternoon in her uncle's house while she and their family go to a funeral, and then we're going to a meeting of the Northern Irish Reformed Presbyterian synod this evening.
Nicole and I arrived safely in Belfast on May 22, took the bus, and got to Renwick at about one o'clock in the afternoon. We spent the weekend with Rachel and Daphne in their house up the Stranmillis Road. Everyone was revising for exams, so Nicole and I spent most of the time either sleeping or wandering around the city. The spring continental market was on in front of city hall, so we went down there and tried some of the exotic foods one lunchtime. The roses were just beginning to bloom in the gardens. We went to church at Shaftesbury Square on Sabbath day, and Rosemary cooked lunch for a whole bunch of us at her house afterward.
On Tuesday, Nicole and I flew over to Edinburgh, where we met Alyson. She gave us both enormous hugs. We walked the Royal Mile and, purely by accident, chose the most American restaurant on the Mile for lunch. Then took the bus to St. Andrew's, where we spent a couple of nights, helping Alyson pack, eating fish-and-chips, and going to the beach.
On Thursday, the three of us flew from Edinburgh to Pisa. Most of Europe was covered in cloud, but as we left England, I saw the white cliffs of Dover. Later, we saw the Alps, rearing massive and terrifying toward the plane. When we stepped off the plane in Pisa, the air was warm and smelled of jasmine. Blue Appenines in the distance.
Our week in Florence was lovely. We stayed in a convent in the city centre for four nights and then in a hostel on the edge of the city for three nights. The people in the convent were very kind, and the people in the hostel were entertaining (thirty French girls in the bathroom all getting ready at six o'clock one morning; a drunk Spanish guy shouting at Alyson and me one evening; a Chinese girl describing her Spanish lessons to a German girl in English at breakfast).
The city itself was very beautiful. Rich colors, warm terra cotta, gold, brown, umber, green, red. The churches and the gardens were my favorite parts, although the Accademia and Uffizi art galleries were spectacular in their own way. Santa Croce, San Maria Novella, and Orsanmichele, the three churches we saw properly, were all so beautiful. Full of frescoes by famous Renaissance and medieval painters, forests of arched columns, tombs of famous thinkers and artists. We went to mass in the Duomo on Sabbath day, which was quite an experience. At the moment when the priest elevated the host, not only was the organ playing, but suddenly the bells began to ring in the campanile far overhead, and the noise filled the enormous space, magnificent echoes rippling through the massive domes.
The food was also good. Our best meals were actually the ones we scraped together in grocery stores: bread, strange cheese, and whatever meat looked good. Nicole usually chose the cheese, and it was always something none of us had seen before (except the first day, when we ate gorgonzola). The fresh peaches, strawberries, and grapes were absolutely delicious.
We spent all of one day walking around gardens on one of the hilltops. Of course that was the one day it rained, but still, the gardens were quite lovely. Not much was blooming, but it was refreshing to wander down long aisles of trees after spending several days trying to navigate on the city streets.
On Thursday, we flew from Pisa to Edinburgh, and the three of us spent the night in a hostel just off the Mile. Alyson left early in the morning to return to the States. Strange to have our trip over and our threesome split up. Nicole and I flew to Belfast that day, and the Wilsons met us at the airport. We spent the weekend with them and went to Trinity on Sabbath day. Everyone welcomed us back. The Flemings and Officers each have a beautiful new baby girl. The Flemings' girl shares my middle name, and the Officers' girl just couldn't stop smiling at Nicole.
Sabbath evening, Mr. and Mrs. W took us back to Rachel and Daphne's house in Belfast, where we spent the night. At a quarter past four Monday morning, Nicole and I walked down to the Europa station, where she got the bus to the airport. Strange and sad to say good-bye, to have all our planning and sightseeing and fellowship over for the moment.
I spent Monday and Tuesday with Catherine mostly. We went up to Ballymoney on Tuesday, and from there we drove to Portstewart Strand Tuesday afternoon. The day was beautiful, light rippling over the small green hills as over water, vibrant, living colors. The sea was rich cobalt, very calm, sailboats on the water. Clouds were coming up over the cliffs of Donegal to the south, but Catherine and I spent a couple of restful hours lying on the sand dunes in the sunshine.
Then she left me at the McCollums' house in time for tea. It was as though I'd never been away. This morning Mr. M had Emmaline and me both up to chase cows into the fields after they'd been milked, and then Emmaline and I drove to Lisburn. I'm spending the afternoon in her uncle's house while she and their family go to a funeral, and then we're going to a meeting of the Northern Irish Reformed Presbyterian synod this evening.
On Monday I met Catherine at Queen's gates at half nine. Or rather, was supposed to. She came running across the road at ten o'clock, breathless, and told me the following tale.
She woke up at a quarter past six Monday morning to get the bus from Ballymoney to the train in Ballymena to Belfast. But when she got on the bus to get the train, the driver asked her for eight pounds for the ticket. She only had four.
So she got off the bus, went home, and drove down to get the train from Antrim to Belfast. Having arrived in Belfast, she walked to the house on the Donegal Road where she and Amy will live next year. As soon as she opened the door, the alarm went off. For five minutes at least she was standing in the front hallway, with the door open and the alarm blasting, shouting, 'I can't hear you!' to Amy down the phone while Amy tried to tell her the code for the alarm, and a group of interested people lounged outside and watched.
When the alarm finally turned off, she dragged her suitcase up the three or four flights of steep stairs to Amy's room, dumped it down on Amy's bed, glanced down at her jeans, and realized that there was dirt all over her jeans. That happened to be the only pair of jeans she owns. As she took them off to put them in the wash, she realized that the dirt was also all over Amy's duvet cover and blanket, and then all the way up the stairs and across the kitchen floor. So she put things into the wash, mopped the floor, and at long last ran to meet me outside Queen's.
On our way down to city centre, we stopped so that she could take money out. When she opened her wallet, there was a twenty pound note tucked into one of the creases.
She woke up at a quarter past six Monday morning to get the bus from Ballymoney to the train in Ballymena to Belfast. But when she got on the bus to get the train, the driver asked her for eight pounds for the ticket. She only had four.
So she got off the bus, went home, and drove down to get the train from Antrim to Belfast. Having arrived in Belfast, she walked to the house on the Donegal Road where she and Amy will live next year. As soon as she opened the door, the alarm went off. For five minutes at least she was standing in the front hallway, with the door open and the alarm blasting, shouting, 'I can't hear you!' to Amy down the phone while Amy tried to tell her the code for the alarm, and a group of interested people lounged outside and watched.
When the alarm finally turned off, she dragged her suitcase up the three or four flights of steep stairs to Amy's room, dumped it down on Amy's bed, glanced down at her jeans, and realized that there was dirt all over her jeans. That happened to be the only pair of jeans she owns. As she took them off to put them in the wash, she realized that the dirt was also all over Amy's duvet cover and blanket, and then all the way up the stairs and across the kitchen floor. So she put things into the wash, mopped the floor, and at long last ran to meet me outside Queen's.
On our way down to city centre, we stopped so that she could take money out. When she opened her wallet, there was a twenty pound note tucked into one of the creases.
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