On a journey...

As I sit down to write this, I am at the little table in a rented flat in the centre of Bucharest, Romania. It’s quiet. Strangely quiet considering we’re in the centre of a huge city. My feet are propped up on a worn fake-leather puff thing, and as I check the time I realize that I have been in the country less than 24 hours... and yet my heart is overflowing with impressions and emotion for a nation I barely know. It’s getting late, but I know I am too awake to sleep and so have made myself a cup of Earl Grey (with milk) and have sat down to try to capture at least a bit of what this day has been. As always, I write mostly for myself and the occasional other who desires to enter into the telling of my story. Driving from the airport last night, and getting the first glimpse of the city and seeing majestic buildings lit up towards the night sky, filled me with expectation. A beautiful city filled with so much history. I came wondering. Wondering what this nation I knew from w...

One of the most interesting facts I learnt while visiting Rome last weekend was during our tour of the Colosseum and Forum Romanum. The Roman emperors would travel around doing their thing, making it very clear to the people that they were in charge and making sure they were submissive- both through putting on days of “games” in the Colosseum with free food so they wouldn’t think to rebel, as well as putting up ridiculously high statues of themselves. Needless to say these Emperors were quite proud and confident and probably quite full of themselves. So, when they would travel around they would have a “whisper” accompany them. A person whose role was to remind them that they were not gods and not immortal. Someone to keep them “grounded” so to speak. (Naturally these whispers life expectancy probably wasn’t very long). I’ve been thinking about this quite a lot, realising that today what most people need isn’t a “whisper” to keep them grounded but a “reverse-whisper” to lift th...

Almost getting conned. As we stepped through the sliding doors from baggage claim at the Fuimicino Airport , it was a bit like stepping into an Italian scene from the beginning of “Love Actually”. There were people everywhere; some looking attentively for the ones they were expecting; others embracing their loved ones. And of course, there is no reason to delay hugs, even if it does mean it’s a tad more tricky for other passengers to find a suitable route to walk around them and their luggage. After a non-eventful train ride, which included having our tickets stamped (read: have a small circular indentation made on them) before boarding the train in a little machine, we arrived at the Termini station . Some friendly men (I thought) “kindly” ushered us to the exit, and as we stepped off the platform one of them approached us and asked where we were headed. Thinking “that’s nice of him” we confirmed that we were indeed off to a hotel, adding that “no, we didn’t need a taxi as w...

It caught me off guard. I wasn’t intending on getting into the subject of suicide, but when she said: “Someone told us about a girl who felt so ugly she took her life”, I realized this was a subject we needed to talk about. I was sharing about my job with the crisis hotline with a group of 10 year olds. Children I imagine are living in safe and protected homes (but I don’t know). I was planning on talking about subjects I thought were more appropriate to their age group; thinking (and hoping) that bullying and self-image would be heavy enough. And then I am sat there having to re-think my strategy and find words to be real with these 10-year old, without traumatizing them by a reality they should not have to think about. Thankfully these were children who were good at reflecting and putting words to their thoughts and feelings. And we made it through our time together, not with all the answers, but them with a slightly deeper glimpse of the dark reality of our society. The convers...

I am sitting at the airport in Dusseldorf eating a very expensive (I think) Cesar Salad with Chicken and writing my blog while surrounded by the murmur of mostly German voices and some funky music playing. It’s a nice place to hang out while I wait for my flight back to Norway and normality. Although again I wonder what “normality” really means, what it even looks like for me in my life.     It’s been a lovely 4 days in Cologne. A few weeks ago I was again invited to come down and teach on the DTS about justice, and it all worked out with work schedules and time available. It’s been such a blessing to pour out of my knowledge and experience into lives of those who are just starting their journeys in missions and ministry. A joy to get to remember again so many of the stories and lives that have become part of my life over the years. And such a privilege to be able to continue to minister even though I have stepped out of full-time ministry.     It was also a...

Living is a process of building. Building life. Building relationships. Building a routine and a day-to-day. I have been reflecting recently on the process of building in this season of my life. As different bricks in life are coming into place, it’s almost like an invitation to be faithful in how I build them into my life and steward them. I can either hold them loosely or choose to fix them into this life I am building. I recently added an extra job into the mix. A job where I work with people. People who function differently and yet still have complete value in the eyes of God. People who I find it a challenge to connect with, and yet realize are very much connected into the heart of God. Again it’s an invitation to embrace the opportunity to get revelation of what God’s heart looks like for these ones. As I work with them I want to see them not just as another job I am doing, but as a job I can do with purpose and the right perspective. Perspective. Life is lived through ...