Love in Action

Tobias Jones writes in the Guardian today about his family’s radical decision to take the plunge into radical living by setting up home in a woodland in order to live in community with others and provide space for hurting people to heal:

It’s difficult to put into words quite why we want to try and do something similar. In part it’s because it feels to me as if old-fashioned charity is at the far periphery of our life. We have a few standing orders to worthy causes and put a small cheque in the post, or do a soup run, once in a while. But that sort of charity seems increasingly to me like carbon offsetting: a way to cleanse our conscience, to make us feel better about the fact that actually we could keep living just the way we want. It’s a sop, nothing more. I want charity, in the old cliche, to begin at home, to be an integral part of our lives – not just something we do with loose change once in a while.

…

I think the two-generational nuclear family – “two up, two down” – is an abnormal sociological departure of the 20th century. It is one of the primary causes of rampant consumption because every little unit of human beings has to buy all the appliances and expensive gadgets and toys, many of which are only used once in a blue moon. The nuclear family has created an epidemic of depression and stress because there’s simply not enough time for two adults to do all the work to earn the money to pay for the nanny to do shopping to feed the children and so on. The modern, narrow definition of the word has turned the family – once a castle of inclusivity – into an excuse for exclusivity. Nowadays the phrase “I’ve got to think about my family” invariably means “screw you”. I’ve come to believe in another F word, which seems closer to the older, almost Mediterranean, sense of family: fellowship. As William Morris wrote in A Dream of John Ball, “fellowship is heaven, and lack of fellowship is hell: fellowship is life, and lack of fellowship is death”.

…

But most of all we’re taking our leap in the dark because we’ve belatedly realised that the sermon on the mount might actually be a manifesto for life, rather than a few nice ideals to take out for a spin on a Sunday morning. We’ve come to believe in the survival of the weakest, not just the fittest. William Vanstone once came out with the great line that the Church is like a swimming pool: all the noise is at the shallow end. We felt called to the deep end, to the place where it’s more quiet, more dangerous maybe, more radical.

read the whole article

Here is a family not content to live according to the accepted norms of society just for conformity’s sake.  They are taking Jesus at his Word and seeking ways to live out God’s love for the world.  They’re not content just to have ideas and theories about how it should be done, but they’re actually going for it; stepping out in faith and putting love into action.

I find it inspiring and challenging.  What radical thing is God asking me to do in the name of Love?

A Unique Way of Life

I just read the following paragraph in “The Jesus Way” by Eugene Peterson and I am challenged because it is so easy to forget how different the Jesus way is and slip back into the pervading culture’s thought patterns.  Don’t!  Let’s keep our eyes on what really matters and remember that…

…following Jesus is a unique way of life.  It is like nothing else.  There is nothing and no one comparable.  Following Jesus gets us little or nothing of what we commonly think we need or want or hope for. Following Jesus accomplishes nothing on the world’s agenda.  Following Jesus takes us right out of this world’s assumptions and goals to a place where a lever can be inserted that turns the world upside down and inside out.  Following Jesus has everything to do with this world, but almost nothing in common with this world.

p 270 (my emphasis)

Following Jesus is the only way to make our lives really count.  It is our privilege to get to take part in God’s plan for the world, even if our choices along the way won’t be understood by those around us.   Following Jesus, I can know fulfilment, joy, security and peace.  Why would I want to live any other way?

Reflections on a Good Week

Last weekend, I was getting all stressed about leaving Paraguay, with all the organisation that will have to go into it and all the decisions that I’ll have to make.  Fortunately, God has provided me with good friends here who not only help me in practical ways but also help me see things from a different perspective.  As a result of conversations with them, I was able to free myself from the worry by passing the responsibility for everything I was getting stressed about onto God.  That made an enormous difference.  It was really like a weight being lifted from my mind.  Why don’t I do that more often?  God’s right there, waiting for me to focus on his ability rather than my inability.  I easily forget that.

I suppose it comes down to a general attitude of life.  I am too inclined to focus on myself.  I don’t put enough effort into looking towards God and seeking his perspective on my life.

As I was thinking about leaving this country where I’ve spent the last four years of my life, I tried to see my time here in terms of what I’ve achieved.  And I came to the conclusion that I hadn’t actually done much towards making the world a better place.  I couldn’t quite see what I had to show for this stint as a missionary.  I think I’m still feeling somewhat ambivalent about my time at FEISA, maybe because of the fact that I left without any official acknowledgement of my work there.  Added to that, I have been feeling rather frustrated with my perceived lack of success at this writing lark; there have been more frustrations and feelings of inadequacy than I expected.

One friend pointed out that it isn’t actually about how much I feel I’ve achieved or not, but whether I have been faithful to what God has called me to do.  It was a good reminder.  Again, it is so much easier to look at the world from my own perspective than to see things from God’s point of view.  And I do think I’ve been faithful so I can be fairly sure my time in Paraguay has been worthwhile.

Nevertheless,  I began the week with a rather negative perspective.  Thanks to God, I recognised this and prayed about the week in general, and each task in particular.

And in the end, I had a very productive week.  I was able to write the first draft of four different stories that I’d collected on my trip into the rural areas last month.   When I started to write up the first story, I felt very inadequate and frustrated.  However, with some constructive criticism and positive feedback, I gained in confidence enough to enjoy writing the rest.  One of my stories was even published on the SIM website and featured on the front page!   So that was rather satisfying.

I have been trying to work out exactly why I have enjoyed doing some writing projects more than others.  I can’t really understand it.  I came to the conclusion that I’m still pretty much a mystery to myself!  And that’s okay.  I’m thinking I’ll probably always have new things to discover… that should keep me from getting bored with myself!

Having had a good and productive week, I am feeling much more positive about my work with SIM here.  Then this morning I got an email from someone who has read my Fun English for Kids guide on the web and wanted to know how to get the worksheets and picture flashcards.  So I went to my page on Scribd so I could send her the link, and while I was there, I noticed that other people had written comments, asking for more resources too.  Then I looked and saw that the teachers’ guide has been downloaded over 11,000 times.  ELEVEN THOUSAND!  Even accounting for people downloading it by mistake, that’s a pretty huge number of people who are reading what I wrote.  I’ve had quite a few people write and tell me they’ve found it very useful.  And that was something I did while at FEISA.  If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have written it.

So, while I know my achievements and feelings of satisfaction are not what it’s been about, I am grateful for the gift God has given me of these encouraging glimpses of some results of my work during this time in Paraguay.  Thank you Lord!

© Fiona L Cooper 2009

The Unforced Rhythms of Grace

“Are you tired?  Worn out?  Burned out on religion?  Come to me.  Get away with me and you’ll recover your life.  I’ll show you how to take a real rest.  Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it.  Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.  I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you.  Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Matthew 11:28-30, The Message

Hope that hurts

Matty: Do you ever listen for footsteps in the street, at night, when you are sitting alone?

Jessie: Major Gordon mostly called on horseback but I cannot deny that sometimes, when I hear the clip of hooves, something inside me leaps up for a moment.  And I wish it did not.  For I think that it is not the despair that hurts one, but the hope.

Matty: Do you ever listen for footsteps in the street; at night, when you are sitting alone?

Jessie: Major Gordon mostly called on horseback but I cannot deny that sometimes, when I hear the clip of hooves, something inside me leaps up for a moment.  And I wish it did not.  For I think that it is not the despair that hurts one, but the hope.

Quote from “Cranford” BBC 5-part serial, 2007

Of Missionaries, Mopeds and Mosquitoes

I got back on Wednesday evening from a trip into deepest Paraguay, where the red earth contrasts with the green foliage and the blue sky and the rolling landscape is lit up by the strong, tropical sun. There is so much beauty in this country.

My purpose was to visit missionaries and collect stories of how God is impacting lives in rural Paraguay. I had a great time staying with my colleagues Dan and Sarah and their children in Caazapá, 5 hours from Asunción by bus. I got to talk to three different Paraguayans about their faith and was very encouraged by their stories. I had lots of fun playing with Dan and Sarah’s children. I learned how to make cocido – a hot, sweet drink made with the same herb used in tereré – and drank lots of it. I got to watch the three Bourne films in quick succession; we started by watching The Bourne Identity one night and at the end of it Sarah and I decided to watch The Bourne Supremacy straight away – since it was “not even eleven o’clock yet” in Sarah’s words! The following night we completed the trilogy and it was a lot of fun! One of the other missionaries on our team, Greg, turned up as we were watching The Bourne Ultimatum, because he had driven someone from his town further out in the countryside to the hospital in Caazapá and needed to stay the night. He helped with the explanations for what was happening in the film, since it was my first time of seeing it and I needed help to understand what on earth was going on at times!

Dan talking to Petronila, a real prayer warrior

On the Saturday morning I went to kids’ club with Dan and two of the children, and there met up with Ruth, who I went to Lima with in May. She helps run the club and it was fun to see her in action – she clearly has a gift for teaching kids. After the club, she took me off on the back of her moped to her house… and riding pillion was a lifetime first for me! I loved it, though it took me a while to realise it was best to fight the impulse to lean in the opposite direction whenever we turned a corner!!!!! We stayed for the weekend at her small house on the outskirts of town, where it was so incredibly peaceful. That is, except for the racket made by the birds at times, and the cows across the road… but you know what I mean – none of the city sounds of traffic or nearby neighbours. And the sky was full of stars at night because of the lack of streetlights. I got up close and personal with a frog or two in her bathroom, as well as several hungry mosquitoes over the course of the weekend.

We went for a walk on the Saturday afternoon, out to a ranch on the other side of town, where it was even more peaceful. Ruth showed me her favourite spots, which she has named according to some deep logic – there was the “Sea of Galilee” by the “River Jordan” over which we crossed into “California” and we sat for a while in the shade of “Jesus’ Temple.” We stopped and took photos of each other posing in front of the different sights, which was good fun. In the evening we went to a 15th birthday party for a close family friend of Ruth’s. I felt a little under-dressed in my jeans and trainers, but I hadn’t been expecting a party, and in the end it was a cold night and when it’s cold in Paraguay, everyone just wraps up warm and doesn’t worry too much about looking smart. I was also rather dismayed to discover that during our afternoon stroll I had acquired a somehat sunburnt face… oh well, at least nobody knew me at the party!

Ruth

Sunday was a quiet day. After church in the morning, we had a peaceful afternoon. I sat and read in the garden while Ruth had a siesta. Then we walked along her road a bit to the famous Ycuá Bolaños, the spring of water that a Franciscan monk had caused to come out of the ground in the 17th Century. The story has it that during a bad drought, the Guaraní tribal chief challenged the friar to prove his God was real. So the monk prayed, struck the rock and everyone watched as clear water flowed out. It is said that the spring has never dried up since.

Ruth’s house

On Monday morning I was on the move again, this time to Yegros, 50km away down an unpaved road. It took an hour and a half to get there because the buses are a popular mode of transport, so there is a lot of stopping and starting as the bus picks up and drops off passengers along the way. The dusty road made for a bumpy ride because when it rains, deep ruts are formed which then dry out with the sunshine. I got to Yegros, where SIM colleagues Brett and Rachael live with their family, in good time for lunch and I got to sample the most delicious bread I’ve tasted in Paraguay yet (made by a local baker).

The mosquito bites I had collected in Caazapá at the weekend were itching with a vengeance that afternoon and Rachael took pity on me. They have an aloe vera plant in their garden, from which she chopped a big, fat leaf, made a cut up it and squeezed so that first of all out came a foul-smelling green liquid, but soon after that was a colourless, odourless gel/slime. I applied this slimey gel to my angry bites and was instantly rewarded with glorious relief! The aloe vera had a wonderful cooling effect and Rachael told me it also helps the healing process on things like sunburn. What an amazing substance! Out of a plant growing in the garden…. the only comparable thing I think we have in the UK is the dock leaf to ease nettle stings!

On Monday evening, I got to take part in a Bible study the family are leading with some of the local youth. It was a privilege to see the eagerness to learn these young people had, and sobering to realise just how groundbreaking some of the truths in the Bible are for those who have been raised in the Catholic Church’s traditions. The kids stayed around to chat afterwards and it was great to watch Brett and Rachael do what they’re so good at – making relationships and loving people.

The next morning I went out with Brett on a visit to a local subsistence farmer, who also pastors the only evangelical church in town. Brett is a veterinary surgeon and was going to check on one of the pastor’s cows. It was a beautiful drive through the countryside along a dirt track. There is a lot of sugar cane grown in the area and we saw one or two refineries along the way. The pastor and his wife greeted us warmly and we sat down on their porch to chat for a good long while before going to see the cow. That’s the way in rural Paraguay. There is nothing more important than a good conversation. Nothing that can’t wait until a relationship has been established or renewed. While the pastor took Brett to the cow, his wife showed me round the farmstead and I was fascinated to see the chicks in the hen house and the huge hairy pig in its sty. She showed me the fruit trees and the vegetable plot and insisted we take away a bag full of the most enormous lemons from her tree (which Rachael later made into the most delicious lemonade). She also gave us a dozen eggs and a kilo of homemade cheese. Brett told me that this happens a lot when he goes to visit animals. The owners are keen to repay him with some of their own produce. Indeed, later that morning he went to visit a different farm and came back with one large bag of oranges and another of lettuce.

Brett (r) with Pastor Farchi

It is clear that life is hard work for the majority of people here. They eat whatever they can produce, and if they can sell some of their excess then that’s a bonus.

On Tuesday evening I got to play “Pit” with the family, which was great fun. I hadn’t played it for years and was pretty rubbish at it, but I love the fact everyone can join in and there are no great skills you need for it!

There was a big thunderstorm that evening, which turned the roads into mud and meant the bus I was intending to catch back to Asunción on Wednesday morning was cancelled. The buses are not allowed on the unpaved roads after rain. Brett kindly offered to drive me in the family’s 4×4 up to Caazapá to get the bus from there. What is normally an hour-long trip took nearly two hours, as Brett skillfully negotiated the ruts and puddles on the soft road. Rain calls everything to a halt in rural Paraguay, especially non-essential activities, so the road was quiet and when we got to Caazapá, there were very few people around. The bus left on time and I was soon on my way back to Asunción.

I feel my soul was refreshed this trip through spending good times with friends and being so close to nature. I got back home exhausted and very grateful to be in my own flat again, but somewhat sad to have exchanged the beauty and tranquility of the countryside for the noisy hustle and bustle of the city.

© Fiona L Cooper 2009

Beautiful Asunción

This one’s for Steve

I have been utterly awestruck at the beauty of Asunción in Spring this year… we’ve had a long winter and then, a couple of weeks ago, it warmed up. The Lapacho trees have been in full bloom and the overall effect of the green foliage, the pink/lilac Lapacho flowers, the bright sunshine and the blue, blue sky has been stunning:

I have been feeling truly grateful for the wonderful gift of this beauty every day. I am SO glad God has given me this time here. And I’m drinking it all in, savouring every sight, because I know I won’t be here to see it next year.

© Fiona L Cooper 2009

Rohayhu Paraguay

I love you, Paraguay.
I love your bright sunshine, your blue skies, your red earth and your ever-present greenery. I especially love the way the sun shines through the trees in the morning or late afternoon, making shadows on the grass below… myriad shades of green. Beautiful.
I love your heavy thunderstorms, when the palm trees bend right over and the streets turn into rivers.
I love your strong, gentle, welcoming people, who are fiercely proud of their Guarani heritage and rarely raise their voice.
I love the sound of your city cockerels crowing in the morning.
I love the diversity and dependability of your city buses.
I love the companionship of sitting with a group of people on a hot day, drinking ice-cold terere in the shade and putting the world to rights.
I love the freedom your cattle have to wander on the country roads.
I love the sound of your newspaper sellers in the morning, calling out, “Diario.”
I love the multitude of trees in Asunción.
I love your warm summer nights: I love not needing to carry something warmer to wear.
I love your cold winter nights: I love wrapping up warm and snuggling under a duvet on the sofa.
I love the taste of chipa at the side of the road and I love it so much more when there’s hot, sweet cocido to go with it.
I love the way your Spanish is peppered with Guarani words.
I love the way broken things get mended rather than replaced.
I love your abundance of fruit.
I love the taste of your meat, cooked to perfection on a grill and shared with friends.
I love the smell of your jasmine as I walk home in the evening.

I love you.
Te quiero mucho.
Rohayhu Paraguay.

© Fiona L Cooper 2009

Domenica on Modern Society

This excerpt from Espresso Tales, by Alexander McCall Smith is in tune with a few things I’ve been pondering recently:

“And to think,” she went on, “that the woman who lived in this house when it was first built probably had only one or two dresses. That’s all. People had very few clothes, you know. Even the wives of well-to-do farmers – they might have had only one dress. Life was very different.”

“It’s hard to imagine,” said Pat.

“Yes,” said Domenica. “But we need to remind ourselves. We need to renew that bond between ourselves and them, our great-great-grandparents, or whatever they were. It’s what makes us a people. It’s the knowledge of what they went through, what they were, that brings us together. If we lost that, then we’d be just an odd collection of people living on the same little bit of land. And that would be my nightmare, Pat – it really would. If our sense of ourselves as a group, a nation, as Scots, were to disappear.”

Pat shrugged. “But nobody’s going to make that disappear,” she said. “Why would they?”

Domenica spun round. “Oh, there are plenty of people who would be quite happy to see all that disappear. What do you think globalisation is all about? Who gains if we’re all reduced to compliant consumers, all with the same tastes, all prepared to accept decisions which are made at a distance, by people whom we can’t censure or control?

“I, for one, refuse to lie down in the face of all that,” went on Domenica. “I want to live in a community with an authentic culture. They may sound trite, but I can find no other words for it. I want to have a culture that is the product of where I am – that engages with the issues that concern me. It’s the difference between electronic music and real music. Between the pre-digested pap of Hollywood and real film. It’s that basic, Pat.”

Domenica reached for her recipe book. She sighed.

“I sometimes feel very discouraged,” she said. “You must forgive me. I look out at our world and I just get terribly discouraged. And if I ever turn on a television set, which I try to avoid if at all possible, it only gets worse. All that crudity, that dumbing-down. Inane, mindless game shows. People laughing at the humiliation and anger of others. The most basic, triumphalist materialism, too.

“And the crassness, the sheer crassness of the characters who are paraded across the national stage to be jeered at or applauded. The vain celebrities, the foul-mouthed bullies. What a wonderful picture of our national life all this presents!

“And what voices are there in all this . . . all this noise? What voices are there to say something serious and intelligent? When the justice minister went to her own constinuency to try to do something about the selling of alcohol to young teenagers, she was barracked and sworn at by teenage boys, and nothing was done to stop it. Did you see that? Did you see that shocking picture? That poor woman! Trying to do an impossible job as best she could, and that’s her reward.

“I don’t know, Pat. I don’t know. I have the feeling that we’ve seen the dismantling of civilisation, brick by brick, and now we’re looking at the void. We thought that we were liberating people from oppressive cultural circumstances, but we were, in fact, taking something away from them. We were killing off civility and concern. We were undermining all those little ties of loyalty and consideration and affection that are necessary for human flourishing. We thought that tradition was bad, that it created hidebound societies, that it held people down. But, in fact, what tradition was doing all along was affirming comunity and the sense that we are members one of one another. Do we really love and respect one another more in the absence of tradition and manners and all the rest? Or have we merely converted one another into moral strangers – making our countries nothing more than hotels for the convenience of guests who are required only to avoid stepping on the toes of other guests?”

(pp 337-339)

Thoughts about Things

This weekend I was thinking about the things I’ve accumulated since I’ve been in Paraguay. And the fact that I’m going to be returning to the UK at the end of the year. I’ve got far more things than will fit into a two-suitcase luggage allowance, so I’m going to have to make some decisions about all this stuff.

I’ve got a rug I bought in Egypt that I’m especially fond of and that’s especially heavy. Then there’s the yellow kettle I bought in Spain that has a red crest on top, like a rooster, and its name is Bob (written on the side – not my idea!). And numerous books I have enjoyed reading, or have been very useful, and which I am loath to part with.

As I was pondering all these things I possess I realised I’d allowed myself to clutter my life again. I remember leaving Reading to go to Bible College, after three years in the same house, and it was SO painful having to decide what to do with all my stuff. I decided then that I would never again accumulate things to that extent. I decided only to buy things I knew I would need.

When I got to Paraguay, I needed to buy things like curtains, bed linen, cutlery and so on. I bought it all with the attitude of knowing I would only be using it for as long as I was in Paraguay. And as a result, I feel completely unemotional about them. The problem is the things I’ve been bringing from home every year that I’ve had for years and that I knew I’d make good use of here. And so I have. I have LOVED having the Egyptian rug – it has made a sterile, white-tiled living room much more cosy. And every time I use Bob, I smile, and he has come in SO handy!

This weekend I realised that, for my own sanity, I was going to have to seriously de-clutter my life. I’m going to leave the rug and the kettle and most of the books behind. You see, I don’t know what my life is going to look like next… maybe I’ll be settling down in my own home, where things like kettles and rugs would come in handy; but maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll be living in furnished accommodation, which will have all these things. Maybe I’ll be going abroad again soon and there won’t be room in my suitcase for it all. I just don’t know. And since I don’t know, I’d rather have less stuff than more. Because having less stuff gives me more freedom: Freedom to go where God calls me without being encumbered by things: Freedom to rely on God rather than on things: Freedom from emotional attachment to things that don’t, in the end, have any significance.

Then I read this:

Habits of relinquishment became deeply ingrained in Abraham… Leaving Ur and Haran, leaving Shechem and Bethel, leaving Egypt and Gerar, leaving Beersheba. Leaving, leaving, leaving. But every leaving was also a lightening of self, a further cleansing of the toxins of acquisition. A life of getting was slowly but surely replaced by a life of receiving – receiving the promises, receiving the covenants, receiving the three strangers, receiving Isaac, receiving circumcision, receiving a ram in the thicket – being transformed into a life that abandons self-sovereignty and embraces God-sovereignty. Abraham did that for a hundred years…

“In the process of leaving behind, Abraham became more, gradually but certainly realizing that relinquishment is pre-requisite to fulfillment, that letting go of a cramped self-will opened up to an expansive God-filled life. Faith.

Eugene Peterson, The Jesus Way p50

And I see now that what I’ve been going through each time I’ve moved to a new place, has indeed been a “lightening of self.” And I know that my faith has indeed been stretched and moulded each time I have gone through the leaving process. And I know that this is A Good Thing. Letting go of things gives me the freedom to open my life up to God in new ways.

So I’m looking forward to December, when I’ll be taking a step towards de-cluttering my life by getting rid of the things I don’t need to take with me.

© Fiona L Cooper 2009