God takes us by surprise

When Ash Barker was here a couple of weeks ago, we had an amazing experience after visiting a church one Sunday night. Ash had an amazing encounter with a person he knew from 15 years ago. Out of this encounter sprung a conversation between Ash and I about the impact you often don’t realize you have in ministry because you often plant many sends, tend to them, and help them grow, but hardly ever see the fruits that result from your labor. Here Ash tells an amazing story of this encounter…

A few weeks ago I experienced an unexpected joy. It was my last night in Oz as I faced my fifty-first meeting, in my third city, in fourteen days. My tongue felt six inches thick, my throat was cracked red and my head was dizzy longing to hit the pillow on my sixth bed for the trip. This wouldn’t have been so bad, but a couple of hundred smart dressed 15 to 20 year olds started to arrive through the church doors ready to hear me speak. I was so spent that I wasn’t even sure I could put an intelligible sentence together never mind persuade any-body of God’s heart-beat for the poor.

That’s when it happened. A huge Islander walked across the room and shook me by the hand.
“Remember me?” My mind was tanked, but I did know this guy. His eyes smiled.
“Huh. Its me Anthony, well Anton now. I used to live with you fellas.”
My knees buckled, nearly toppling over as I realized who this was. This was not the fuming, angry, skinny fifteen year-old Anthony, I’d last seen fifteen years ago. Here was a weather beaten, but peaceful man, now known as Anton. He was the last person I’d expected to see at this church, not least because last time I’d heard he was doing a very long jail stretch.
Anton spoke fast, letting me know how he found Jesus in solitary confinement. He had remembered how I had bought him fishing rod for his birthday and how we caught plenty of fish that day of a hired boat. I’d said, “one day you’ll be a fisher of men.” Alone in jail Anton said to God, “If you get me out of this jail I will speak your truth for the rest of my days.” Anton did get out of jail, tried to find me and for the last four years as well as holding down a steady job he has been sharing Jesus with all who will listen in a kind of gutsy, street-level way. Anton saw this new life as a kind of fulfillment in those words I vaguely remember saying years ago.
A kind of joy instantly sprung up, lifting my spirits. As I got up to speak in front of so many fresh faces, a torrent of stories and insights splashed out of me. Some I hope will find their mark and make some difference. Few there that night would need to be transformed the way a fifteen year old Anthony had after all.

After the service I went back to a mutual friend’s house for dinner and Anton told me his whole story. I met too some of his friends and neighbours who band together to love and serve Jesus in their inner-city Adelaide neighbourhood. They kept prompting Anton to tell this story or that. “Aye, you’re the fishing guy then, are you? Heard that one a few times!” one said. Like, Anton, none had easy lives, but like Anton all were seeking to find a fresh way forward with Jesus and desperate for other to know this transforming power too.

Within 24 hours of that dinner I was dragging my luggage through our slum neighbourhood’s narrow lane ways toward my home. I often feel flat and empty after such crazy trips, questioning their worth. When I rest up I do see their value, but this time even this long, dark walk carried a deep sense of joy. Sure speaking, writing, lecturing and scheming for the kingdom has its place, but nothing beats hearing how God uses our small deeds done with a lot of love to bear fruit in ways you least expect it. Viva the revolution of the small Jesus-deeds!

Ash Barker UNOH Director – Bangkok Chapter

Check out more of UNOH's Wild Ones stories on the Wild Ones blog

Shalom Mark

UNOH's Wild Ones hit Adelaide

From the 9th-11th of March (sitting on the bench from left)Ash Barker (Director UNOH Bangkok), Shobie Owen (UNOH Melbourne), and Dan (FORGE Melbourne), came to Adelaide to unleash a message, the call to radical discipleship with Jesus. Last year the UNOH tour of the churches was called 'Wild Ones'. The quote on our T-shirts (in the pic), from Erwin McManus says, 'There is within each one of us, a raw and untamed faith waiting to be unleashed.' These guys have no problem unleashing theirs in action and word, hence I had no problem hosting them in Adelaide last weekend while they interacted with various communities from the hills to the north of Adelaide.

What a quality weekend, beginning with a small group of gathered people at our place on Friday night for a meal. What a quality group of people it was, here we were, about a dozen key leaders from Churches of Christ in SA passionate about standing in solidarity with the poor and marginalized. Margaret Mead said, 'never doubt that a small group of committed people can change the world - indeed it is the only thing that ever has.' I felt a strong sense of that in the room that night, the possibility that this conversation could be the beginning of an exciting venture.

Saturday began early in the morning with the first public gig for these guys a breakfast at Blackwood Church of Christ. It was a great turn out and the Blackwood church put on an awesome breakfast. Verity Skye (my beautiful wife) shared some of the challenging songs she had written. Shobie played and sang songs from her new CD 'Digging through the roof', accompanied by Dan on percussion. You've gotta hear these songs, each tell a real story from the heart of journeying with the poor, songs that will tug at your heart strings and challenge you to act not just listen. Get a copy of her CD here. Ash spoke to the theme of his book title, 'Make Poverty Personal'. Again another quality must have resource, get Ash's book here.

Our afternoon was spent in and around the far northern suburbs of Adelaide (Elizabeth), enjoying the hospitality of Les and Helen Colston. I've never been out to this area of Adelaide before, it's a different world. It almost looks rural with red sand and wide open spaces. Ash & Shobie mused over the possibilities of a UNOH presence here. Saturday night we were at Hewitt Church of Christ for a Thai dinner. The church's aim was to raise awareness about UNOH and particularly the Bangkok chapter. The drive home late that night was the most entertaining I've ever had. I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life with Ash, Shobie and Dan, over tierd travellers, in the car.

Sunday morning didn't start so early. Wild Ones were back at Blackwood Church of Christ where Ash shared a deeply moving message and Shobie, Dan and verity inspired us with their message through music. UNOH received such a warm and encouraging welcome from the Blackwood church.

Later that evening the guys made it to their last gig, Hope Valley Uniting. I was so impressed that after 3 weeks on the road these 3 were still able to stand on 2 feet and deliver their message of God's heart-beat for the poor, with integrity and enthusiasm. Ash had an amazing encounter with the past (I'll talk about that on the next post) and as a result of that Ash and I ended up in the city tucked away in a lettle place in the south west corner near Westcare having a meal with strangers who soon became friends.

What an amazing weekend, i have a feeling we have only seen the beginning of the adventures of Wild Ones here in Adelaide. Already we are planning Jon & Lisa Owen to hit some churches in April, Jon Smith in May and wait for it...Mick Duncan with Vox Congo in June. That's right people we're working on Vox Congo coming to Adelaide with the Wild Ones tour, how exciting.

Watch this blog for more stories and updates of UNOH Wild Ones in Adelaide as well as my occassional lenten reflection.

Shalom

Mark

One fragile life

It was a very dark and eerie morning on day 21 of lent. The fog was think and I received a deep sense of the changing of the season from Summer to Autumn. The days were getting shorter as we head towards the end of daylight saving. Although the fog was as think as pea soup there was a strange warmth and humidity in the air from the day before.
Last night was a night that some will never forget. There was a car accident on the other side of the ridge less than a kilometre away from where we live. I decided to ride my bike in that direction again this morning to reflect upon the the incident that occurred only 11 hours ago in my neighbourhood. As day began to break the fog continued to swirl around me. I cut a single rose to take with me on the trip.
At about 8pm last night my dad (still a member of the local CFS) was paged and the siren from the station began to blear out across the hills and valleys. As dad left for the station he said it was a car accident they were being called out to. The firetruck came roaring past our place with the siren sounding, up the hill and to the other side where we heard it stop. A couple of hours later dad called home and said he was going to be a while as they were waiting for the coroner and the tow truck to arrive. That didn't sound good.
At around 10:30pm I drove up to see how dad was holding out. On the way up the hill i bumped into a couple of old CFS mates who were blocking the road and re-directing traffic. They let me through to the CFS truck about another 100 metres up on the top of the hill. Dad was sitting up in the drivers seat of the truck manning the radio. I climbed up to the passenger seat to engage the conversation with dad about what was going on and how they were all holding up. A lot of memories came flooding back as I climbed into that truck about the amount of fires and accidents I've been out to as part of that CFS team.
As the story goes, the 18 year old driver of the car (his dad's BMW) had just broken up with his girlfriend and in his grief had run his car at a high speed into a tree at the bottom of the other side of the hill. He died instantly. It took a rescue crew about 3 hours to cut him out of the car which had been compacted to about half it's original length.
The CFS crew had been out there for a while so when food came I helped distribute the ice coffee and raisin bread to dad and the 3 other guys redirecting traffic. These volunteers do it tough sometimes, and the nature of the incident meant they needed to talk, that is, talk about anything that would take their mind off that night.
As I rode my bike up over the ridge this morning and headed down the hill towards the scene of the accident I felt a deep sense of sorrow for all who were involved. A young man, his family, his friends, the CFS crew, the rescue crew, the police, the ambulance officers, the old man in the house next to the tree that stopped the car in it's tracks...so many had been deeply affected. This neighbourhood is like a little country town and an incident like this is not easily forgotten.
How do you begin to imagine the deep sense of pain that would lead someone to take their own life like this? So many in this young man's life will be feeling so helpless right now. Is there something that could have been done to prevent this tragedy? Did they have a chance to tell him how much they really loved him? The questions keep rolling on. Yet in that moment last night sat a young man, alone in his car blinded to anything outside of his immediate reality, the reality of the pain he felt in that moment. Herein lies one of the greatest depths of poverty that exists in our society. Yet what can be done about it? There are no easy answers yet there is plenty to explore as we begin to address the issues of the poverty of helplessness, hopelessness and loneliness in our society.
I don't know the young man who chose to end the pain in this way however, I took the rose I had cut and placed it in the trunk of the tree that was hit to acknowledge this one fragile life.

Shalom
Mark

Finding Rhythm

Reflecting back on day 9 of lent I remember the sense of achievement I felt in completing the ride from my parents house in the valley of Ironbank, to the top of Mt. Lofty. I certainly had my doubts at the beginning of the journey however as riding a bike up some of these hills can be quite unforgiving on the body, particularly now that I’m 15 years older than when I used to do this.

I followed the roads that round up through Stirling and Crafers to get there. Along the way I began to notice a different in my attitude compared to when I was younger. For me everything used to be a competition, not only was the goal to get to the top of the mountain, but I had to do it in record time. I would almost kill myself doing it too. My body would yell and scream at me with all it had to tell me to slow down, take it easy, I was pushing beyond my limits.

This time was different, there was more of a sense of adventure about it, sure it was hard, but it didn’t seem to be so much a competition anymore, I had nothing to prove to myself. As I climbed that steep long stretch from Crafers to Mt. Lofty I found that I had found my rhythm in the ride, I was pacing myself in such a way that it didn’t seem so hard anymore. Sure there were times when I had to stop so I did. The fact that I was in pain ranked higher than pride on my priority list now.

Reaching the top was breath taking. Even though I worked at the restaurant there for 2 years day in and day out, I still had an appreciation for this early morning view that stretched out over Adelaide, across the sea and to the Peninsula on the other side.

How often is it that we want to rush through life to the next goal in sight? I realized that I can have a habit of doing this all too often. Not often enough to I stop in the journey to appreciate my surroundings, or pause for long enough to enjoy the view. Yet finding a particular rhythm in life allows us not only to appreciate what’s around us but also to find ourselves.

It’s times like this I reflect back on my days in village life in Vanuatu and I remember the phrase we coined and integrated into our life, ‘stap nomo’. Or in the English translation, ‘just be, nothing more’. Part of a Psalm I dwelt with the first time I went to Vanuatu was from Psalm 46, “Be still, and know that I am God”. May you find the rhythm in your life that helps you be still for long enough to know God.

Shalom
Mark

Barbed wire fences

Early on day 8 of lent I decided to ride my bike up to the top of the big Ironbank Rd hill (it’s legendary in Ironbank…trust me). Each day of lent I’ve taken a different path on my bike. Much to my lament I soon worked out that there is nowhere I can ride from my parent’s place that doesn’t first require a grueling uphill ride. My parents live in a valley and there are hills all around in every direction.

I reached the top of the hill and paused for a while to appreciate the view. It’s amazing how my attention was immediately taken by the vast expanse of the big picture before me. The thick tree tops followed the shape of the rolling hills all the way to Mt.Lofty. As a glanced down to my left through a valley I could see the ocean. What a view! I could see from the highest peak of the Adelaide hills to the lowest valley to the ocean.

After I had appreciated the view I began to notice the little things like the properties that were laid out before me in the foreground. These were quite picturesque and full of character. Grazing land for sheep and cattle, fruit tree orchards and rusty old sheds near big old farm houses. I also noticed that everything was surrounded by barbed wire fences.

It’s nasty looking stuff. I’ve had an accident or two with this barbed wire as a kid. I wonder where the idea of barbed wire fences came from? Was it a need for protection, security, prevention? Actually I noticed that most things were protected in some way, like the fruit trees covered with nets to protect the fruit from the birds. And the hay bails in the barns to protect them from the weather. But what is it about barbed wire fences? Are they to keep things in or keep things out?

There’s a story about fences that goes a little like this; An American tourist visits an outback cattle station and is over awed at the size of the property which stretched from one horizon to the next. The American wasn’t used to this, they have states in America smaller than the size of this property. He was used to masses of people confined to small spaces. However he noticed something that puzzled him, there were no fences to keep the cattle from straying. “How do you keep your cattle from straying when you have no fences?” the American asked the farmer. “We don’t need fences, we have wells. Our cattle know which direction to go to stay alive.” replied the farmer.

To take the metaphor of the fences further I’ve noticed people put up ‘barbed wire fences’ (boundaries) to warn people to stay away or keep their distance. Churches tend to want to construct fences to keep people in, make sure they don’t stray too far.

I find it interesting that Jesus used the world around him to teach people about the nature of God, the kingdom of God and the community of God’s people. John chooses to tell a story of Jesus sitting by a well talking to a stranger, an outsider about the life giving water available to all. We don’t get any sense from the Gospels that Jesus was intent on fencing people in to an exclusive club he founded. Instead we find Jesus in the places where he knows people gather for that which is life giving.

After focusing on the little things for a while I cast my eyes back over the landscape one last time before I took the fast downhill ride home. Mt. Lofty, the furtherest peak in the distance, the highest peak in the Adelaide hills, caught my attention. 'Tomorrow', I thought to myself, 'I will take on Mt. Lofty.'

Shalom
Mark

Vox Congo urgent news

I interupt my lenten reflections with an important Vox Congo update.

Check it out on Vox Congo's blog

For anyone new to my blog, these guys are Congolese asylum seekers Verity and I have journeyed with for the last 4 years. They play unbelieveable music. They have become close friends of ours. I used to manage their band but gave that away when I moved interstate. I keep people posted on their immigration status on their blog. Check it out.

Mark

Companions on the journey

I emerged from another ride in the scrub on day 6 of lent and arrived back at the roadside about 500 metres from my parents property. I thought to myself, instead of going home I'll go for one last little ride up to the end of the road and back. As I headed up to the colder sack at the top of the hill I came across a familiar face. It was my dad and he had our two dogs with him.
I said g'day and stopped. I guess my early morning rides have inspired someone to take the dogs for early morning walks. Instead of going on my way I stayed with dad and the dogs chatting with dad on the way home. Dad's a good mate.
It wasn't always this way with dad. In my late teenage years I was a right little punk. I gave my parents absolute hell. I remember having some run ins with dad that I thought our relationship as father and son would never recover from. Sometimes I can't imagine what I put my parents through with some of the choices I made and the arrogance by which I lived my life. I could tell story after story about things I did that strained my relationship with my parents almost to the point of disrepair. There was a time there where I thought, either they were going to kick me out of the house or I would leave.
Yet through all of this my parents loved me, they provided for me and they prayed that through some divine intervention I would wake up to myself. There were times in my life back then when I felt very alone yet my parents were the unfailing companions all the way.
When I saw dad on the road with the dogs it reminded me of that sense of companionship. Being Labrador and Border collie, they are the most loyal dogs, they'll stick by you through anything. We need companionship like that through the journey of life and discipleship. May we all be blessed with loyal companions.

Shalom
Mark

Death and new life

Day 5 of lent and I've headed back out into the wilderness down the fire track I've been exploring. I remember, when I was younger there was another track that came off the main track only a few hundred metres from the gate. I used to walk this track all the time but now it seems to have disappeared. I had a careful look for it today and found it. Ever since the fire new growth had been springing up on that track and it was grown over, but you could still make out a path.
I decided to give it a go and see just how far I could ride along this track. I made it about a few hundred metres along the track before it started to feel like I was in the middle of nowhere with no place to go. Instead of getting worried about the track and how I was going to find my way, I took some time to notice and appreciate my surroundings since I was now deeper into the scrub away from the main track.
The scrub here isn't as dense as it used to be. I remember trees and bushes so think the sun could hardly break through. Now 12 years on (from the fire) and in the middle of a drought, the bushlands here have not recovered as well as they could have. This time instead of noticing the new life I noticed more of the trees and bushes that were left as skeletons and hadn't recovered. There was so much evidence here of death that interestingly I did not recognize when I first pedaled in on day 1. It's interesting how we look past the death to see the new life right away because we don't 'do' death very well, we'd rather go straight to resurrection moments and forget that which led to it.
I began reflecting on this some more in the context of what some of mine and Verity's friends are going through at the moment. A few of our closest friends are suffering this tension of holding the reality of a death in the family along with the expectation of a new birth. One couple lost their uncle to cancer just last week, they are also expecting their first child in a few weeks. Other couple are dealing with the loss of a parent. His mum died of cancer last week. His dad died just a few years ago. They are expecting their first baby in a few months.
How do you journey with such tragedy in the context of expectation of new life? How do you find the appropriate spaces for grief and for celebration in their own right? It's interesting, death and new life, it's part of everone's reality and some time or another. It's also Christocentrically at the core of our theology. Having said that, it also seems to be that part of the Christian faith we deny the most. Why don't we do the suffering, grieving, death stuff very well? We generally don't journey with it or acknowledge it well at all, it's too painful. Yet it is there and the scares are always left as a reminder even in the presence of new life.
I eventually emerged from the track I struggled to follow through the fire and drought burdened scrub. It actually brought me out of the track that leads to the grapevines. Now I was back on the main track and I new my way home. My vision was clearer now. My legs were a bit sore so I look down and noticed my legs were covered in scratches and black ash. A reminder of the journey through new life still emerging from a once dead and desolate wilderness.

Shalom
Mark