Missionary Gas

Last week was spent sorting out a forward plan for my history course: 48 one hour classes at midday. Augustine, Luther, Calvin and co. were neatly allotted their times; exams and projects were programmed. The afternoon before I started, I was told my class had changed; I would start next morning at 7 am with an hour and a half classes. An adaptation of Henry Ford's famous saying came to mind, "History planning is bunk" I was fortunate, worse had happened to Fiona the previous day. Years ago Donnie Smith advised me about coping with pastoral work in Peru: "Don´t have fixed plans. You go, see who turns up, and then start organizing". "All things work together for good" has to be super-glued into the mind of the missionary. Today almost twice as many turned up for the first class than was expected . Photo: Church History students in class

One of the pluses of living in a different culture is that people are keen to show you their best. On Saturday as we returned from the Zero Stress outing we were held up by a parade. It was of buses honouring the Virgin of Carmen, the patron saint of drivers. I felt for the poor soul. She was covered in cheapo balloons, and followed by horn-blowing buses. Nothing too reverent or special in a horn-blowing country. That is until I pulled out my video camera. Then, like tipsy Irishmen, the buses started zigzagging across the road. A bit of an insult to Herself: that worshippers only do something special if they're on film.. But maybe She doesn't mind, or doesn't know, or doesn't care. A bit like it says in the Bible, "their idols ... have ... eyes but they cannot see; ears .... but cannot hear". Classes start next Tuesday: I've got Church History and the New Testament History of Israel, with plenty more idols to talk about, and the livi

Before anything happened, I guessed I would have been writing about Zero Stress' celebrations upstaging the John Calvin conference. Zero Stress now has double the space and since Sunday there have been events to mark the occasion. The users are mainly women from outside the Seminary. Olwen calls them rough diamonds, I'd agree, apart from the diamond bit. Her concern was that they'd misbehave: you could imagine some getting into the spirit of the occasion and knocking down more walls. In fairness, for such women to support a Seminary activity isn't easy. Lower strata Latinos have a strong herd instinct. The barrio offers you protection, but you have to conform: stray and the cost can be high. Last night's opening Calvin event didn't go as planned. It was anticipated 50 would attend to hear of his life, but 200 turned up: it's difficult to upstage Calvin. Yet the two events are connected. Zero Stress' celebr

It was refreshing to get back to the Andes after two weeks on the Pacific Coast. Mind you Lima was a relaxing break, and the food fantastic in variety and quality. Not to be outdone, Colombian friends had left us a culinary treat: a packet of large, fried ants. I haven´t quite got the appetite yet, but Olwen can't resist any kind of food. Also waiting was a request for help from an Hispanic radio station in Texas. Working at maintaining their name, Radio Impacto, they asked me, "Where would Christians be in the after-life: on the new earth or in the new heaven?" I told them, "Yes". One thing that's impressive here is the way people give up their seats for Olwen on the crowded Metro. Today she got sitting beside a man with a tube down his throat. He made one of those pleasing comments that leave you nervous: how brave she was coming to Colombia. Next Tuesday a conference on Calvin starts: now there was a brav

"The day never works out as you plan", commented Olwen as we walked the third mile home in the dark. It was our last free day of the holidays and we had set out in the morning for a country park on the Central Highway outside Lima. But there were no buses about, in fact any buses that dared to venture out risked having their windows smashed. You could not even travel down the Central Highway because of stoning. There was a bus strike. So we walked to the Pacific Coast which was covered in mist like a Harry Potter scene. On a cliff top restaurant we ate salads and then decided to continue along the Costa Verde to visit a family. The father had been a Peruvian pastor for years and now was almost completely paralysed with Parkinson's disease. The one audible word he spoke that afternoon was "Amen" after we prayed. Sometimes you get an idea why days don't work out as you planned. Photo: View along Lima's Costa Verde w