IT WAS THE CALL FOR SACRIFICIAL GIVING. The challenge was for us to “give until it hurts.”
Whether it was on the field of sport, or in the offering plate, we have been called to give sacrificially, that is until it hurts either our body or a pocketbook. It is a great speech for both college locker room and church lectern, but is really how we are to give?
I suppose the impetus for this sacrificial giving is found in the Heavenly Father’s giving of His Son, Jesus to be the complete atoning sacrifice for our sins. And yes, they both did more than “give until it hurts.” But, the motive behind their giving is more than just sacrifice. Their giving was prompted by their love.
The Apostle Paul writes, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:8) It was the love of God for us, His creation, which motivated Him to give. The Apostle John famously reminds us that, “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16) Again, it was God’s love that moved Him to give His only Son. Sure, sacrifice was involved, but love was the gift. What do you expect from the God who is love?
This Christmas what is our impetus for giving? Should it not be to reflect the great love of God? Yes, from time to time we may be called upon to give until it hurts, but let us always give because we love. Perhaps we should rewrite the “challenge” given above. Maybe it should read, “Give until it’s love, and then give some more.”
May God’s love, joy, peace and hope be His great gifts this Christmas!

THE FIRST NOEL, THE ANGELS DID SAY, was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay. Say what?
What is a “noel” and why are the angels saying it? A little online research will tell us that “noel” has a few possible meanings. It could be the title of episode #32 of the television show, “The West Wing,” or the Micmac Indian name for when “ice cakes float freely.” It could have even referred to the medical research term used when the highest dose in a toxicity study results in no-observed-effect level (NOEL), though I sincerely doubt that one.
All kidding aside, “Noel” derives from the Old French as the word for Christmas. It most likely finds it roots in the Latin natalis, meaning birthday, as in natalis dies Domini “birthday of the Lord”. So, there you have it, the angels were declaring a Merry Christmas to the first community of celebrants, the shepherds in the fields of Bethlehem.
This first Christmas greeting was one of “good news of great joy that would be for all people.” The good news that a Savior had been born, the Messiah they had historically hoped for, the One who had been promised through the Prophets, was now here. Yes, this was truly good news of great joy! News that would travel throughout the country-sides of history unto our own day, when we too join with the heavenly host in proclaiming a Joyeux Noël!
May your Noel be filled with His joy!

CHRISTMAS IS FILLED WITH SPECIAL MOMENTS. The “moment” I am referring to is different for each of us. It might be bundling up to go sing Christmas carols or enjoying a special Christmas-time meal with family and friends. It might a night of adrenaline rush shopping at the local mega-mall or a trip to Crest Ranch to select the perfect Christmas tree. Whatever that “moment” is it is just not Christmas without it.
My Christmas moment comes on Christmas Eve, and I guess you could say it is a culmination of moments. It begins with a family meal of soup in bread bowls followed by the final preparations for the Christmas Eve service, the filling of Communion cups and the lighting of scores of candles. It finds its focal point in the re-telling of the Christmas event and the gathering of fellow-worshippers around the Lord’s Table. It is punctuated by a family car ride through the Christmas-lit houses in Scotts Valley and finds its finale in the hanging of Christmas stockings and making sure all are tucked into bed with sugarplum dreams in their heads. But…my most special moment is yet to come.
My true Christmas moment comes late in the evening, when all is quite. The woodstove is radiating its warmth and the lights on the Christmas tree cast a hazy glow throughout the room. All is quite. All is still. All is peaceful. It is the moment I wait for, dare I say that I long for, in each Christmas season. It is the moment between moments. It signifies the end to the pre-Christmas rush, and stands as a quite sentinel awaiting the unpackaged joy of Christmas morning. It is the peace between pieces. It is a moment that reminds of the first Advent night. The moment the Child was born, and the angels declared “Peace.”

WHEN LINDA AND I TAKE LONG ROAD TRIPS TOGETHER we are very comfortable with long periods of silence. No radio, no CD player, just the sound of the road rushing by under the tires. It is a time to let our thoughts run from one point to the other, and then, when the time is right, we express those thoughts to each other. The whole process is something we enjoy, and even look forward to when we travel. Yes, we are comfortable with silence.

One of the things that make these periods of silence bearable is knowing that we can enter into conversation whenever we like. We can interrupt the silence and that’s OK.

But what if we couldn’t? What if the silence was unbreakable? Then the peace would become a prison. It’s a prison that Israel found itself in the period of time that came to be known as the “intertestamental period.” That period of time between the ending of the Old Testament record and the beginning of the New. It wasn’t just a period of silence while driving between King City and Paso Robles, it was a span of time covering four hundred years. Now that’s silence.

During those four hundred years no prophet spoke, no epiphany was given, no bush ignited or donkey spoke. It was God incommunicado. Lots of prayers going up, but no answer in return. Some went after other gods, some remained faithful, but even after four hundred years and scores of generations, even the faithful began to wonder, “will the silence last forever?”

But in the fullness of time God spoke.

The Word became flesh.

“A RUT IS NOTHING MORE THAN A GRAVE with the ends knocked out,” a wise old wag once told me. Ever since,I have desired never to get myself into a rut, but sadly I have found myself there more times than I care to acknowledge.
Why do we often find ourselves in those ruts? One reason, I suppose, is because there is safety in a rut. Dig one deep enough and you can stand up and nobody can even see you. Lay down and they’ll take you for dead. There’s a certain comfort in that. If they can’t see me, or if they think I’m “gone,” then they will not bother me. I can keep to myself, do my own thing, be my own boss, live within the box that I have created. (A box? In a rut? Not a pretty picture given the description above!)
Forty-five years of “doing church” in the San Lorenzo Valley, not a bad track record. What will it be for the next forty-five? A rut? A grave? Business as usual? I pray not! Ten years of ministry for my family and me here at Felton Bible Church, what will the future hold? A rut? A box? Business as usual? I pray not!
This morning we hold one of our regular Annual Congregational Meetings, a time to look forward as we approve our 2008 budget and elect new Ministry Team members. It’s a time to take seriously the business of the church. It is a time to remember: Whose we are, why we are, where we are, and to pray about where we are going. Will it be a rut? A box? Business as usual?
I pray not!

I’VE BEEN TO PRISON. Well, just as a visitor, but I have been there. In fact, I have been to one of the highest security level prisons there are; Pelican Bay State Prison, located in northern hinterlands of California. There is that old saying, “It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t not want to live there.” Well, it’s not even a nice place to visit.
Pelican Bay State Prison is filled with some of the worst of the worst when it comes to criminals, and yet in the midst of that very dark place God is at work, and lives are being changed. They are changed because someone cares enough to bring God’s light into the midst of the darkness. Sometimes the light is brought through the preaching of the Word of God by a visiting volunteer chaplain, like myself. Sometimes it is brought by someone linking with an inmate through a ministry like Prison Fellowship, and sometimes the light is lived through the life of a correctional officer who is a follower of Jesus.
This Sunday we join with thousands as we remember the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church. It is a time when we focus on the reality that throughout our world it is not only criminals who find themselves imprisoned, but there are thousands who suffer many forms of imprisonment simply because the bear the name of Christian. To us here in America these brothers and sisters are nameless and faceless to us, but they are no less our family. We may not be afforded the blessing of visiting them in prison, as we could an inmate in our county jail, but through the power of prayer we can still have an impact in their lives.
Let us therefore heed the Word of the God, from Hebrews 13, “Keep on loving each other as brothers. Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it. Remember those in prison as if you were their fellow prisoners, and those who are mistreated as if you yourselves were suffering.”
Not only today…but everyday.

ON THE WALL ABOVE MY DESK are a few reminders of those for which I am thankful. There is a picture of my wife, a picture of my family, and a pen and ink drawing of Jesus upon the cross, and a watercolor of pelicans skimming the waves. Each of these pictures move my heart to thankfulness to the Lord.
I am thankful for the love of God exhibited in Jesus Christ. I am thankful for the love of a wife, exhibited in Linda. I am thankful for the love of family, exhibited in Trinity, Krista, Lizzie and Jordan. I am thankful for the God’s amazing creation, exhibited in the wingtip-to-water flights of the Brown Pelican.
Because I am thankful for each of these I am constrained to give forth, with an open hand. Because of God’s first gift of love I am able to love in return. Because of God’s gift of my gracious wife, I am moved to meet her deepest desires. Because of God’s gift of my family, I am moved to fulfill their needs, and hopes. Because of God’s gift of creation, I am moved to be a good steward of it.
I have been blessed beyond belief and thus, my heart is filled with gratefulness, and my hands are moved to extend the gift that has been given. Yes, a grateful heart is attached to giving hands.
I encourage you to take a look around you today. Gather in through sight, sound, smell, taste and touch, the blessings that God has lavished upon you. Let your heart be glad, and with a glad heart give a blessing in return.
Let thanks-giving flow!

SOME INSECTS ARE MEAN-SPIRITED. Yellow-jackets are one such insect. About a week ago I was involved in a 5k race to benefit San Lorenzo Valley Elementary School. The course took us on an out-and-back trip through Fall Creek State Park. As I started to head up one of the steeper grades one of the course volunteers alerted us to the presence of yellow-jackets. Needless to say, I didn’t stick around long to discover what kind of mood they were in. But, by the time I was on the return leg of the race the race officials had changed the course and were taking us down “let’s-break-an-ankle-hill.” Ah, such are the choices in trail running; yellow-jackets or broken ankles.
At the finish line the bites (stings?) were counted, and ice-packs were applied and the stories were told, some with tears, of the yellow-jacket encounters. What was interesting to me is that some got stung (bit?) and some didn’t. Often one runner was attacked, while next was not. What made the difference? Could it be the speed of the runner? (That wouldn’t be a fact in my case.) Could it be the color of clothing? (That didn’t seem to matter.) Could it be that the little nemesis had the ability to smell fear? (Then I should have been attacked, I’m always afraid when I race.) None of these things seem to make a difference. It all came down to: some got stung and others didn’t. No rhyme, no reason, just life.
As I contemplate the tragic fires sweeping over Southern California this week, I ask myself the question raised above. Why are some “stung” and others not? The fire destroys one home and leaps over the next. Some neighborhoods leveled, while others stand. Why? The choice of God? The results of living in a broke world? I don’t have the answer for that.
So, what are we to do?
Me? I weep for those who have lost everything. I celebrate with those who “made it through.” And, I pray for God’s mercy to fall on all of us…for we all need it…stung or not.

I CAN STILL RECALL THE SMOG ALERTS of my childhood. It seemed as though there were at least 3-4 days each fall when a smog alert would be issued and thus school activities curtailed. I remember having our football practices cancelled, and our games postponed because the air was that toxic. UGH! I can even remember driving through Los Angeles in the middle of the afternoon with the car headlights on because the smog was hampering visibility. Double UGH! Breath in and your chest hurt. Fortunately, believe it or not, things are better. Not perfect, but better.
I can remember driving up to Big Bear Lake and breathing in that clean, crisp mountain air. I think we actually breathed double time, trying to get as much in us as possible and hoping to maybe clean out all the pollution that had filled the lining of lungs. Driving back down Rim-of-the-World highway was like dropping into a vat of gray soup. We would try to hold in that clean air, but you can only hold your breath for so long, and back in would rush that lethal concoction of particulate matter. UGH, again.
We all breathe, all the time. The alternative is not very good for you. But not only do we breathe in the air around us, but we also breathe the air of our culture. Our culture produces its own smog. I call it Selfish Materialistic Obsessive Greed. And like the smog of Southern California, it cannot be counteracted by a couple hours of “breathing clean.” To clean out the 168 hours of “breathing” we do in a week, it is going to take more than just an hour of clean breathing to undue the damage. It’s going to take the supernatural work of the Holy Spirit, the reading of God’s Word, prayer, and His empowering in our lives. It’s putting on our spiritual oxygen mask and breathing deep and long. Holding your breath in this world just won’t cut it, you’ve got to breathe the Spirit.
So, take a deep breath and let the cleansing begin.

HEAR THE WORDS “MID-LIFE” and it is usually attached to the word “crisis.” But if we take a close look at the word we see anything but crisis. Rather, it is the combination of two words, “mid” and “life.” “Mid” which tells us that this is neither the beginning nor the end. At mid-life we find ourselves in a place that gains from the wisdom and experience of the past and also looks forward to a future in which that wisdom and experience can be dispensed.
It is also a word that speaks of “life,” but sadly we have given the phrase the specter of death, or at least an increased awareness of its soon arrival. Yet, if we truly find ourselves at mid-life, say 45 years of age, then would it not be correct to say we have 45 more years to go? (Lord willing.) That’s more than enough time to make a positive impact in our world.
This weekend ushers Felton Bible Church into “mid-life.” At this 45th anniversary we will need to ask ourselves whether this will be a time of mid-life crisis or mid-life celebration? Will it be a time of dwelling on the past or planning for the future? Will it be a time of fearful aging or of expectant hope? Will it be a time of bemoaning the passing of our “youth” or will it be a time where we joyously look forward to the generations of believers yet to be born?
Forty-five years ago those followers of Jesus Christ who gave their heart soul, mind and strength to the founding of this fellowship of believers could not have imagined the changes that would take place in their world. Yet, they faithfully moved forward following the leading of the Holy Spirit. They created a place where the unchanging Truth of God could be proclaimed in order to see lives changed in the midst of an ever-changing culture.
May their legacy continue, to the glory of God.

ISRAEL KNEW BOTH exodus and exile. They knew what it was to wander toward the Promised Land, and they knew what it was to be removed from it. The journey to the promise was prolonged because of disobedience to the LORD, and their removal from the land hundreds of years later was also because of an increasing disobedience. Though both have links to disobedience, each was to be experienced differently.
The exodus from Egypt, and it’s subsequent wilderness wanderings, was meant to purify the Children of Israel and to prepare them for the coming occupation of a new homeland. Through the time of the exodus the nation learned to follow and to obey. They learned to rid themselves of the false god’s and false philosophies of Egypt and the peoples they encountered along the journey.
In the exile they learned how to dwell in a foreign land and culture while at the same time learning how to remain faithful to the one true God. In Babylon, God told them to, “Seek the peace of the city where I have sent you into exile…for in its peace you will discover your peace.” (Jeremiah 29:7)
Centuries later Jesus would tell His followers to be salt and light, and in the process to do good so that God would be glorified. (Matthew 5:13-16) He wanted His followers to know that they were not experiencing an exodus leading to a Promised Land, but rather a people of a different kingdom living in exile. (1 Peter 2:9-12) It would be their responsibility to live well in that place of exile. To live well, not just for their benefit, but for the benefit of the people of that land. As I have stated elsewhere, “to be counter-cultural for the common good.” (Andy Crouch).
Welcome to exile.

CAFFEINE AFFECTS DIFFERENT PEOPLE in different ways. Some are able to drink it by the gallons with seemingly no effect, while others walk by a brewing pot of caffeinated coffee and they start to get “the shakes.” I fall somewhere in-between.
A couple of cups of tea (no coffee for me) and my motor gets warmed-up, but much more than that and it becomes a lesson in the “law of diminishing returns.” Caffeine after 8:00 at night? Well, let’s just say falling to sleep is no problem, it’s staying asleep that becomes the issue.
The problem for many in our culture today is that we seem to ingest so much caffeine from so many different sources that many are running on a perpetual caffeine induced stupor. A situation that we often feel powerless to stop. The caffeine craze not only affects the inner workings of our bodies, but we feel “naked” if we don’t have a coffee cup in our hands. Desire as we might, it seems impossible to change.
I often feel this way when it comes to my life as a follower of Jesus Christ. I get so “jacked-up” on the caffeine of this world, that it seems near impossible to slow down, let alone stop, and to spend time with my Lord. I want my spiritual life served up like my Earl Grey tea; waiting for me at the counter at Coffee Cat as I walk in the door. I don’t want to sit quietly, or to wait for an answer, or to mature. I want it now!
But, this is not the life to which we have been called. God has made us for work, yes, but He also requires us to rest. The Lord desires for us to experience the blessed gift of time unrushed with Him. Take a breath, relax, rest, and be blessed in His presence.
God created the Sabbath for you.

AFRICA HAS BEEN CALLED THE DARK CONTINENT, not because of the people or because of the difference in culture and religion, but because we knew so little about it. It was not that it was dark, it’s more that we, in the West, were in the dark about this great land and its amazing people.
But thanks to National Geographic Magazine and the shows that populate the TravelChannel, we are less in the dark today. In fact, Africa is now becoming the new center for evangelical growth and theology. The church is alive and well, and in many regards has much to offer us here in the West. We would do well to sit up and listen to what our brothers and sisters have to communicate to us from the two-thirds world.
Africa has not been the only dark continent. Too often our souls are shadowed places for us as well. Not necessarily places dark because of sin, but like the Africa of the past, dark because we know so little about them. We hesitate to spend anytime getting to know ourselves spiritually. We gain knowledge and expertise in so many areas from the latest cooking techniques, sports, any number of hobbies, even the bizarre foods of Africa, but we fail to learn that which will deepen and enrich our souls. Much like the Dark Continent of a century ago, we seem fearful of the place closest to us.
But, like Africa, learning from our souls brings much benefit. There is nothing really of which the follower of Christ needs to be afraid, for it is there that our blessed Lord resides. It is in those deep dark reaches that we can meet the Savior, learn of Him, and experience the amazing love He has for us.
So, fellow-traveler, I invite you to take a journey of discovery, the journey of opening your heart to the One who loves you the most and the best. Allow the Light of the world to enlighten your soul and rejoice.

I GREW UP HEARING THE PHRASE, “Many hands make light work.” This past week I saw the truth of that statement played out once more. Those many hands came in the form of 32 individuals (ranging in age from seven-years-old, to those over eighty-six-years-old), who joined hands in packing 125 World Vision Caregiver Kits. In less than 45 minutes we loaded the orange boxes with gloves, soap, cream, flashlights, medication and other items that will help the care-givers provide tangible expressions of mercy to those suffering the ravages of AIDS. Most importantly each box also contained a card of encouragement from a Vacation Bible School attendee and was prayed over by the one packing the box. It was a great evening of many hands making light work, and of many hands doing the work of prayer. Blessed are the hands.
This past Tuesday evening, at our AWANA kick-off, I once again saw an answer to prayer as many came not only to lend a hand, but also their hearts and voices as we began to once more reach out into our community with the love of Jesus Christ and the message of the His Good News. Honestly, we were very concerned that we would not have the staff needed to care for the children that would arrive, but God graciously and abundantly answered our prayer. What a joy it was to watch and listen to our leaders share the Word of God with the kids and to help those kids begin to hide God’s Word in their hearts. Blessed are the hands.
I was reminded that God has given us hands for a reason. First, to fold in prayer as we seek His face and grace. Second, to be lifted before Him in thanksgiving and praise. And third, to stretch out in service as we seek to offer God’s mercy and compassion to those we encounter.
Blessed are the hands.

IN OUR FRONT YARD STANDS AN OLIVE TREE. Apart from spring-time pollen, I like olive trees. Their branches intertwine and have, as my wife would say, character. During my recent vacation I took some time to give the tree a much-needed trim, and in the process learned a lesson or two.
To take a look at the specimen in my front yard you might guess that it’s a tough old bugger. The bark is rough, and craggy; rub up against it and it will leave a light abrasion on your skin. But put your foot against it to climb up its trunk and you will quickly discover that craggy old bark is very thin, and hidden just under it is a softer, greener, skin.
As I contemplated the bark of the tree I thought of those I know who seem rather rough and craggy on the outside, much like our olive tree. And, like our tree, that craggy and rough surface is very thin. Underneath they are people who are vulnerable. To put it another way, their roughness is only skin deep. The problem is that we can believe that their scruffiness is really who they are and in the process never really get to know the person who lies just beneath the surface.
I suppose that is why the Lord gave us the directive to love one another as we have been loved by Him. (John 13:34) Jesus knew what we all needed, no matter what kind of bark we show to the world around us, we need to be loved.
So, let us love.

AT THE FIRST PASSOVER the Children of Israel where told to make their bread for the meal, and the subsequent journey, without yeast. It was to be unleavened bread. The reason for this command was because they would not have the time needed to let the bread rise, the kneading and rising activities would take too much time. They needed to be ready to move at moment’s notice.
For the children of God today, the need is still there; the need to be ready to move at a moment’s notice. We need to travel light. As with those moving from the captivity and bondage of Egypt to follow God toward the Promised Land, so it is with us. For them there was no longer the need to knead their bread, for us there are most likely some things that we no longer need as well.
To follow the Lord toward the “Promised Land” we too are called to travel light, to be ready to move as the Lord directs. I know that too often I hear the prompting of the Holy Spirit telling me to move this way or that, but my obedience is hinder by the things I think I need. The things hidden in my larder (as yeast was kept in the dark recesses) slow down my progress for the Kingdom. The Lord calls me to move out and I respond to the Lord, “I will go, but first I must wait for my bread to rise.” Sadly, the things I need slow down my progress.
Like the Hebrews of old, I believe it is time to sweep out the corners of our homes. To rid us of the yeast that causes what we need to be more important than obedience to the call and command of the Lord. If there is anything that needs to rise, it’s not our bread…it’s us.
Let’s rise up. It’s what’s needed.

purposes summer vacation is over…and I for one am ready. Now, don’t get me wrong I had great summer. One of the best Vacation Bible Schools ever! Two weeks of helping out at Redwood Christian Park with their children’s program. Two week’s in Africa. Visits from family and friends. Watching my kids learn new skills and experience new growth. BBQ’s and sunshine. Yes, this summer was great, but now I am looking forward to the rest that schedule brings.
Earlier bed-times, school schedules, weekly church programs, oh yeah, and soccer. Yep, I am looking forward to sliding back into the old comfortable clothes of fall. I guess that adage that we are all creatures of habit is true. And it is really not a bad description, that is unless the habits are bad ones.
One thing I try to do at this time of the year is to enter into some renewed habits (good ones). It may mean getting back into the habit of prayer, or of journaling. It may mean getting back into the habit of exercise and eating right. It may mean getting back into the habit of time around the table with family and friends. This time of the year, maybe more than any other, affords me the time to stop, reassess, reschedule and in the process be renewed. In many ways, we usher in not the end of the year, but its beginning.
As we say “good-bye” to the lazy-hazy-crazy-days of summer join me in saying “hello” to a glorious season of harvest. A time of new rich colors, a time of warmth, a time of festive renewal. A time where the hearths of our homes and hearts can be opened to the fire of God’s Spirit.
Come, and be renewed.

THE BOYS ON MY U-8 SOCCER TEAM LIVE to scrimmage. From the time they get to practice they are constantly asking me, “Hey coach, are we going to scrimmage today?” They tolerate stretching, they work hard at passing and dribbling, and practicing shots-on-goal, but they live to scrimmage against each other.
Scrimmaging is an important part of learning the game. It’s the closet thing we do to playing a real game, but without the other aspects of the practice all a scrimmage becomes is an opportunity to kick the ball around and instill improper soccer techniques. The learning and practicing of basic skills is crucial to a productive scrimmage and ultimately to a successful game.
Often, as followers of Jesus, we are like my soccer team. We want to scrimmage, or better yet, just play the game. But, in order for us to play the game well it is vital that we learn and practice the skills that we will need in the course of the real game.
One of those much needed skills is that of prayer. If we have not made a habit of the practice of prayer during the “everydayness” of our lives, then when we find ourselves in the midst of the heat of life , we will not have developed the skills needed to grant us success. Prayer, like the skills of soccer, needs to be practiced over and over again, so that when we find ourselves in the need of prayer, it will come as naturally as a push pass to our teammate.
Play on! Opps, I mean “pray-on!”

LIFE IN BILAMPERGA IS NOT ALWAYS IDYLLIC, but the three days Linda and I spent there with our daughter Krista gave us a sense that village life has its benefits and blessings. After three days in the capital city of Ouagadougou, with its noise, heat, trash and crush of people and vehicles, our time in the village was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one.
The rhythm of life brought peace to your heart. The people were warm and friendly, the pace slow (I am sure the heat had something to do with that), life was gauged by the rising and setting of the sun, and everyone, from the youngest to the oldest, knew their place in village life. When the rain fell, life became quiet, except for the echoes of raindrops upon tin roofs, but when the sun once again broke through it was time for all to return to the fields to plant their millet or corn. All understood the rhythms and their place, and thus life worked well in the village of Bilamperga.
Another thing that grabbed me, was that even though Krista had been a part of the village family for a year, they still desired to be a service to her. The children were always ready to pump the well for her water, and to carry it to her home. Whenever she had a need, the people, her family, where quick to come to her aid, in fact, they would get quite upset if they were not asked to help. These people truly care for her, and as a far-away parent, that gives me a sense of peace.
I believe the local church can learn much from the people of Bilamperga. We can learn better to live within the rhythms of life around us, to “go with the flow” as it were. We can learn the importance of everyone having a job to do. We can learn the importance of carrying one another’s water, of always looking for place to serve, not for what we gain, but always for what we can give.
What’s your place in the Village?

GET ANY NUMBER OF PEACE CORPS VOLUNTEERS (pcv’s) TOGETHER and the topic will quickly move to where they all went to dinner last, or where they were planning on eating next. I have come to the conclusion that if you need to find out where, or where not, to eat in a given country talk to a PCV’er. When these folks meet, they eat. It almost became quite humorous to me to listen to their conversations, it seemed that all they did was go out to eat together…they lived for meal time.
As I gave this some thought, and as I enjoyed some meal times with them (where they would talk about previous and upcoming meal times) I realized why these meals gained such a great priority in their lives.
The reality is that each of these PCV’s spend the majority of their time away from light-skinned, English speaking, western-mindset people, and when they have the opportunity to come together it is a time for celebration, for catching up, for enjoying a sense of family which finds its best expression in the family dinner table, even if that table was outside at Paradisio. My new PC friends reminded me that true community comes from sharing that which is in common…theirs was a true communion meal.
At these gatherings is shared a common story lived out through a variety of daily experience. It is a meal that allows them to look back and to look forward (often to the next meal). During these meals their hearts and stories are intertwined and new strength and hope is renewed as they prepare to return to their often solitary lives of service. Thus, these meals were of incredible importance to their ongoing lives. They were not something that could be easily done without.
Not unlike the Communion Meal we celebrate today!