Missionary Gas

It was a terrible shock to hear of the death of two of the Peruvian young people visiting Scotland. You'll have seen their photograph in my recent blog entry. They died in a car accident near Inverness and the driver was also killed. news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/highlands_and_islands/5230666.stm We do feel for their familes, friends and teachers. May the Lord grant grace as only he can.

The Times' commentator Matthew Paris once said that sometimes a small detail reveals a bigger picture. He went on to say that the moment he saw Margaret Thatcher arranging her dress like the Queen, he knew she was finished. In a similar way during my visit to the Free Church of Scotland Offices a certain small detail struck me. I had worked there almost 30 years ago when the Church first hit a major financial crisis and decided to introduce cost cutting measures; and, in a move I don't think they ever repeated, employed us students to do paintwork. As Milton was photocopying, I sat in the new staff room and examined the paintwork. Then my eye caught the electric fire. It was one I remembered from childhood, with big metal switches on the side that made a clonking sound, three bars that would sizzle into a red glow and an unrealistic, pretend-coal cover. It was dull grey and had an old brown flex. The last time I had seem one of these was at a her

We arrived back in Scotland, I'm not sure when. Adjusting my internal clock by 6 hours gives me a couple of weeks of disorientation. However, Milton Acosta's arrival from Colombia brought a sense of normality back. He's the Seminary's Academic Dean and effectively my line manager. Milton is in the UK as part of John Stott's wider ministry programme to encourage overseas Christians. This focuses mainly on books and leadership. Milton's getting help in writing on humour in the Old Testament. This, he is careful to assure us, is not of the "Who was the fattest man in the Bible?" type. We haven't the heart to try him with Rab C. nor Rev. I.A.M.Jolly but he's been most impressed with our sheep, St Andrews University library, the Burrell Collection, sandstone walls and unaccompanied Psalmody. He's passed commentless on Tetley tea, wheaten bread and Scots/Irish accents. Last Friday the Board's Executive agreed to reco

In Donald Macleod's Footnotes in The West Highland Free Press he once commented that a particular wayward Catholic priest would end up being sent to Bogotá. True, the city doesn't feature in the Times ' "Holiday Destinations" page, but I love it. Colombia's capital nestles in an Andes valley and is surrounded by green hills. The historic centre and culture haven't been forced to accommodate the US dollar nor the Japanese yen. The place is simply for the Bogotanos and it does its own thing. So the nearest airport hotels are halfway to the city centre and they have cocaine-sniffer dogs to greet you. The one we stayed in recently was quite upmarket and optimistically sought to cater for the potential tourist by using bilingual signs. These gave us much to think about; for instance, the fire warning instructing us to "ban your door with wet towels". This was as intriguing as the restaurant menu offering us the speciali