Just when I thought I'd seen everything...

One thing I'm fast finding out is that people here in the Rosedale area are a lot tougher than most folks, and the result is that one gets to witness some strange and interesting things!

Two Fridays ago my family and I were doing the "Sacramental Safari", which involves taking Communion to the elderly folks in our congregation who are no longer able to attend services. Because the majority of them are infirm, and also poor, one cannot expect the normal "niceties" of home visits, such as a cup of tea, and it becomes thirsty work doing what amounts to 10 Communion services in one day! I'm thankful to the Phase One college for providing me with a two-page order of service, because in a "normal" service the Communion part alone takes about an hour. Even so, one normally spends about 40 minutes at each home.

So while I was thinking about how one needs to be tough to be a minister, and admittedly feeling a little bit sorry for myself as I left the last home (due to the fact that by this time I had far less energy than the 99 year-old lady whose house we had just left, who - unlike me - had more energy than the Duracell bunny), I came across this rather large bull standing in the middle of the road. As I came gingerly to a halt, wondering how I was going to maneuvre my nearly two ton double-cab bakkie around this beast, a little boy (who couldn't have been more than about 10 years old) skipped up to the bull and gave it a resounding slap on its rump! Even more astounding - the bull took off like a rocket, scampering off into the bushes in abject terror!

Today's funeral was another eye-opener for me. Technically this is supposed to be my weekend off (we get one per quarter), but since the family concerned had tragically lost their eight-year-old son to meningitis, I felt that the least I could do to comfort them was to conduct the service. Now for those readers who are not familiar with the customs in a coloured community, most funerals start on the Monday, with house services every night until Thursday. The family is given a break on Friday, and then Saturday starts with a service in the house, the procession to the church, the funeral service itself, off to the graveside, the burial, then back to the house for final prayers and a meal. I've often wondered about the burden that this places on families, and have also felt uneasy that the mourners sit outside while "the Reverend" is given the prime seat in the house (at the family's insistence). Then this gargantuan plate of food is put in front of me, and once again I feel that while I have probably committed a grave insult by not clearing my plate, there is just no way that I'll get through that quantity of food! I haven't yet come up with a method to (delicately and graciously) either turn down such offers, or request a smaller portion, so I guess I'll just need to keep at it on my bicycle.

But the eye-opening part came just as I was leaving. In this particular area, there is a bend on a section of dirt road that is notorious for accidents - especially when the car in question has no brakes! So when I was informed that a BMW had left the road, gone down the embankment, and overturned, I feared the worst. However, while I was trying to get hold of the emergency services on my cellphone, the occupants of the vehicle - who were all totally unharmed - had climbed out of the windows, and together with half of the community (who had come out for the "show"), managed to get the car back on its wheels.

I can only but imagine the expression on my face when, as I was hearing "Welcome to Vodacom's Emergency Service" in the one ear, one of my Local Preachers was yelling, "Don't worry, Rev, your prayers have been answered" in the other ear, the BMW (now with a somewhat more "streamlined" appearance due to the roll), was being driven away under its own power (the car had, apparently, started first time). Maybe there's some merit in that laid-back, 45-degree-tilt, head-behind-the-B-pillar stance that many young drivers of E30 and E36 BMWs (and Citi Golfs) adopt as their standard driving position...

Dear Mr Youth Pastor, please may I strangle one of your leaders?

After the morning service at John Street this past Sunday, Annie, one of the Sunday School teachers, came up to me with great enthusiasm, wanting to discuss the possibility of having an all-age worship. Given that I was in the throes of greeting the departing congregants at the door, I asked her to make an appointment with me to discuss it in more detail.

An appointment was duly set for 10:00 this morning.

However, something obviously must have come up, for she sent me an SMS on my 'phone, indicating that she would not be able to make it. No problem with that - in fact, that is good stewardship. But at 04:12 this morning? Annie, Annie, Annie - I commend you greatly if you were up praying at that unearthly hour, but some of us believe, as the Apostle Paul said, that we must "put the flesh under" - in this case under the duvet!

I thought of responding to you there and then, but any response that I would have tried to SMS at 04:15 with only one eye partly open would have stood a good chance of being an inappropriate one. So I'll look at rescheduling our appointment later on today, when (hopefully) I've dislodged the woolly, fuzzy sensation from my brain.

Trial service

This past Sunday I did my trial service in kwaNobuhle, a township just outside Uitenhage. Each probationer minister is required to do one such service as part of the academic requirements to be submitted to Synod.

My message was based on Psalm 133: 1, "Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity", which was quite apt coming, as it did, three days before South Africa's fourth democratic general election.

I reflected on some of the acts of unity that we as a Methodist Church have demonstrated over the years. For instance, it was as far back as 1958 that the Conference of the Methodist Church of Southern Africa took a landmark decision, in the face of draconian pressure from the apartheid government to segregate its structures, that “… it is the will of God that the Methodist Church remain one and undivided”.

This pledge of unity was reaffirmed at a gathering of Methodists in 1981. In what became known as the Message of Obedience ’81, the delegates stated that “… every Methodist must witness against this disease [referring to apartheid] which infects our people, our church and our country. We have experienced how hard it is to abandon long-held prejudice and long-felt bitterness, but we have seen God work this miracle. It happened because we continued to search for each other even at our times of deepest division. We now declare to all South Africans that there is a third way, where people, who have discovered their love for each other, translate it into justice for all.”

Looking ahead to the upcoming elections, I also reflected on that historic first election just 15 years ago, when the world witnessed the birth of the miracle that is the New South Africa, as for the first time ever in this country’s history, black, white, and every colour in between stood together in line on an equal basis to elect their leaders. I’ll never forget the unbelievable goodwill that was shown, as we stood patiently in line to cast our vote. On that particular day there were no domestic servants or doctors. No women or men. We were not European or African, Xhosa or Afrikaans, ANC or NP. Young or old, it didn’t matter. On that day, the 27th of April 1994, we were all, simply, South Africans.

There were other examples of unity demonstrated over the years - in particular, the outpouring of generosity in response to the brutal attacks on foreigners last year. When Bishop Paul Verryn put out the call to Methodist Churches to provide assistance, little did we realise that we would be working with organisations as diverse as the Red Cross, Doctors Without Frontiers, and the Human Rights Commission, not to mention Christians from every church imaginable from Anglican to Zionist. At one stage I even received a call from the Johannesburg Muslim Charitable Association. Don’t ask me how they got my number, but someone told them that there’s “a guy from the Methodist Church with a bakkie”, and they contacted me to let me know that they could give me as much tinned food as I could carry. A Hindu family filled me up with baby food, disposable nappies, and toilet rolls. Bedfordview Methodist Church had their entire hall piled from floor to ceiling with donated items – clothes, food, you name it – for three weeks solid. Just as fast as we were distributing items to those in need, so more kept coming in.

Sadly, there are just as many instances where we display our complete lack of unity - even today. Some of my fellow Phase Ones have experienced the most humiating experiences, perpetrated within our very own church! One colleague is stationed in a very remote area - the Superintendent of his Circuit is based about 100km away. The church at which he is stationed is attended by farm workers, the majority of whom happen to be black. Four hundred metres away is another church, attended by the farm owners, all of whom are white. This church does not have a minister, only a lay pastoral assistant. However, my colleague cannot serve the Lord’s Supper in the “white” church, because the congregants refuse to receive Communion from a black minister.

Another colleague - a lady minister - also has a problem when it comes to serving communion. As probationers we are taught the words of institution, where the apostle Paul says that “for I have received from the Lord that which I have given to you”, and it is therefore normal for us to serve by taking the bread or the wafer from the plate and placing it in your outstretched hands. In this poor lady’s case, it’s considered “improper” for a man to receive Communion from a woman, so she is subjected to the humiliation of having to hold out the plate so that Mr. Macho Man can take his own Communion! I wonder to what extent he examined himself, as directed by the Apostle Paul, before presenting himself at the Lord's Table?

Isn't it funny how we can read the passage in Luke 10: 25-27, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind’; and ‘Love your neighbour as you love yourself’.”, yet ignore the true meaning thereof? We don’t have a problem with loving the Lord our God – or at least, we don’t think that we have a problem loving God. But we expose our lack of love for God by the way in which we show a lack of love for one another.

We say the words of the Lord’s Prayer – “forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”. Yet we don’t forgive. We hold grudges against each other for years – decades, even. And then we have the audacity to expect God’s forgiveness. But we’ve just asked God to forgive us with the same measure that we are prepared to forgive others. Our lack of fellowship with one another is cutting us off from fellowship with God – ironically, exactly in line with what we have prayed! Perhaps we will think a little bit more about what we are saying, next time we pray the Lord’s Prayer?

We need to realise that there’s a hurting world out there that is crying out for love. People need a place where they can belong, and feel loved and accepted. Where they won’t be discriminated against or looked down upon because they are poor, or a different colour, or old, or young, or speak a different language, or are gay, or divorced, or are HIV-positive. Where whatever need they have can never surpass the love of Christ, as shown through His people. Where they can feel “how good, and how pleasant it is, for brethren to dwell together in unity”.

The question is, is that place in our churches?

Presenting Jesus in a different way

On Easter Sunday we had a sunrise service in Uitenhage, held at the Cannon Hill Memorial. It was a wonderful, if somewhat sparsely attended service - funny how the duvet seems to cling to most people a bit harder than for some!

It was a service that no-one could really ignore, what with the Salvation Army worship team leading. The "wakey-wakey" fanfare blasted out on the trumpet as the sun was rising was a reminder to the world that we need to be awakened to the fact that Jesus has risen - He is risen indeed!

A sad part for me was the condition of the memorial itself. Like many such structures nowadays, it has been vandalised somewhat, with a few columns missing from the balustrade surrounding the observation deck. Still, it provided a wonderful view of Uitenhage at dawn.

It also provided another interesting view, as pictured above. It seems that the observation deck is also a place where some of the locals go for a drink or two (three, six?). This is probably quite hazardous, but then again, the stairs are fairly narrow so I suppose that a drunk person would fall down the stairs in a reasonably "controlled" manner. And with this in mind, some intrepid evangelist placed this picture of Jesus strategically under the empty beer cans.

Given that many of the most spectacular conversions to Jesus that I have seen have been among drunk people - most of whom have never touched booze again once they've been filled with a different kind of Spirit - this is probably a most effective way to spread the Gospel. Please pray that those who venture up to the observation deck will see this picture, and be touched by the love of Christ.

My family is here!

It's been some time since I've been able to sit down at the old PC and tap away some of my random thoughts, because the "two sleeps" became zero as my family arrived from Johannesburg last Wednesday.

The Phase One college routine dictated that I had to collect them from the station in the morning as the train arrived, and dump them at a mall in PE for the day while I attended classes. Then after a brief hour together, I was off to a Learning Partnership meeting. Time stands still for nobody...

Still, it's great to have them here - I've missed them SO much!

(The picture above is one of my son James, who somehow managed to shoehorn himself into a shopping trolley. The scary part of this is that he turns 11 in a few days, so when he is uncurled, he's a lot bigger than he looks!)

Only 2 sleeps left!

I've been a bit slow on the blogging front these past few days - Holy Week has been a blessed time, but also rather hectic! I'm hoping to catch up this week.

In the meantime, the really GREAT news is that I only have 2 "sleeps" left until I see my family again for about 2 1/2 weeks. I've missed them SO much! No. 1 on my prayer list right now is that wherever the Church decides to send me next year, we will be reunited as a family - I'm not sure I'll be able to handle a second year of separation.

Grrr! Thieves!

Please spare a thought and a prayer for my Phase One colleague Jenny, who has just reported on her blog that her laptop and cellphone have both just been stolen. Pray particularly that she had backups, because all her TEEC assignments, as well as her entire Masters thesis would have been on there.