On a recent visit to the small NE Indian state of Tripura I was reminded of the harshness of political boundaries. There was a time when Tripura extended in all directions as compared to its present demarcations. The result? Tripurees are stranded in other states and countries and separated from other tribesmen.
Of course, they are just one of many people groups which have suffered from imposed political boundaries. The population of the state of Mizoram is estimated at one million but of course there are Mizos not included within the prescribed this state’s boundaries. I suppose this unfortunate reality is true of almost every political boundary in the world. Every group wanting its own designated territory … and reaping the consequences.
The result? Homesickness, unsettledness, strive, even riots and killings.
The theologian in me immediately laments the same dysfunctionality among church groups. Each wants its own real estate (preferably more spectacular than that of the one next door), its own distinctives, its own membership, and, often, its own protected territory. Attractive signboards display who is included and who is not.
I have often dreamed of a magic wand with which I could pass through our cities and erase all the distinctive/exclusive signs and all that they represent … and maybe, just maybe, some of the hurt which they have imposed.
The apostle Paul must have had a similar desire for the splintered Corinthian church of the first century. “One of you says, ‘I follow Paul’; another, ‘I follow Apollos’; another, ‘I follow Cephas’; still another, ‘I follow Christ.’ Is Christi divided?” (1 Corinthians 1:12). Note: just because they used “Christ” as part of their designation did not exonerate them!
Paul’s ultimate solution: “I will show you the most excellent way.” (1 Corinthians 12:31b). And, then comes that great dissertation on the effectiveness of genuine LOVE, which (according to Colossians 3:14) ‘binds everything together in perfect unity.”
Maybe, as we step into 2007, the love of God will be more evidenced in Jesus’ followers than ever before. I pray so.
Friday, December 29, 2006
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Communication Challenges
Those of us who aspire to be communicators of the 2,000-year old (and older) biblical message face some (perhaps) insurmountable challenges. Biblical everyday pictures and not-so-everyday symbols do not translate smoothly into contemporary cultures. Ships, sheaves, soldiers, seraphim, shepherds, sheep ….
As a boy I remember chanting “Onward Christian Solders,” but growing up in southeastern Saskatchewan didn’t give me much of an idea of what a soldier looked like or did. War was only for the movies (which were out-of-bounds for us)! However, after spending many years on the other side of the globe, I have become all too familiar with both soldiers and war!
Last week, I visited the delightful, tiny Indian state of Tripura. Its history outstrips its current status just like first century meanings must exceed today’s casual usages. The State of Tripura has a long history. The Kingdom of Tripura in its peak included the whole eastern region of Bengal (Bangladesh) from the Brahmaputra river in the north and west, the Bay of Bengal in the south and Burma to the east during the 14th and 15th centuries AD. The last King of Tripura was Maharaja Bir Bikram Kishore Manikya Bahadur who reigned from Agartala died (at the age of 39) in 1947 and after whom the Kingdom of Tripura was merged with India in 1949.
As I observing the extravagance and contemplated the self-centeredness of this king, I pondered the difficulty of considering Jesus as King. What do Jesus’ kingdom parables mean to those who understand “king” in terms of this egotistic despot? His extravagant Neermahal (one of several retreat castles), 50 kilometers south of his main castle in Agartala, lies in deserted ruins. It is less than 100 years old! It reminded me of standing in front of Shajahan’s Tajmahal and trying to comprehend how one person could conclude that he deserved that much of human and natural resources.
No wonder that Jesus insisted while on trial before the Roman Governor, “My kingdom is not of this world.” But, what do we mean when we sing songs like “King Jesus,” “come and reign over us”? And, even if we think we know, how do we clearly communicate kingdom-ness?
As a boy I remember chanting “Onward Christian Solders,” but growing up in southeastern Saskatchewan didn’t give me much of an idea of what a soldier looked like or did. War was only for the movies (which were out-of-bounds for us)! However, after spending many years on the other side of the globe, I have become all too familiar with both soldiers and war!
Last week, I visited the delightful, tiny Indian state of Tripura. Its history outstrips its current status just like first century meanings must exceed today’s casual usages. The State of Tripura has a long history. The Kingdom of Tripura in its peak included the whole eastern region of Bengal (Bangladesh) from the Brahmaputra river in the north and west, the Bay of Bengal in the south and Burma to the east during the 14th and 15th centuries AD. The last King of Tripura was Maharaja Bir Bikram Kishore Manikya Bahadur who reigned from Agartala died (at the age of 39) in 1947 and after whom the Kingdom of Tripura was merged with India in 1949.
As I observing the extravagance and contemplated the self-centeredness of this king, I pondered the difficulty of considering Jesus as King. What do Jesus’ kingdom parables mean to those who understand “king” in terms of this egotistic despot? His extravagant Neermahal (one of several retreat castles), 50 kilometers south of his main castle in Agartala, lies in deserted ruins. It is less than 100 years old! It reminded me of standing in front of Shajahan’s Tajmahal and trying to comprehend how one person could conclude that he deserved that much of human and natural resources.
No wonder that Jesus insisted while on trial before the Roman Governor, “My kingdom is not of this world.” But, what do we mean when we sing songs like “King Jesus,” “come and reign over us”? And, even if we think we know, how do we clearly communicate kingdom-ness?
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
The Precariousness o
The Precariousness of Pretension
Have things changed, or is my memory (just a little) exaggerative? Stored in the annuals of my memories are recollections of Saskatchewan snow banks as high as the house and temperatures that dipped to that brittlizing minus 50! Not that we need or want them, but how is it that we don’t have those kinds of Sask winters any more?
Another childhood memory that I don’t care to have repeated is that of major chest colds, bronchitis and the like with no anti-biotics to even give hope of relief. Instead, Mom had those flaming mustard plasters that inhibited any hair growing on a boy’s chest!
Last week, we viewed the video of the life of Fanny Crosby, writer of more Christian songs than any one else—ever (I suppose). What spiritual insight for one who lived almost all of her life blind.
And it was mustard plaster that did it! A quack doctor who pretended to know what to do with a little girl’s eye infection—blinded for life!
So, I got thinking about the dangers of pretentiousness, especially among professionals: doctors, teachers, consultants, nurses, counselors, ministers, parents, grandparents, to name only a few. When one’s word carries so much weight that a lifetime can be marred (or benefited). When an eternal destination might be determined by a sentence, a word, a tone—or absence thereof! Holding another’s destiny in ones hand is no small responsibility.
Perhaps this is at the heart of the biblical admonition: “Let not many of you presume to be teachers… because … we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1). It is no accident, I am sure, that that verse comes in the context of a discussion concerning the importance of controlling ones tongue.
How presumptuous of me to pose as a “teacher.” But I did and I do! Scary!
Have things changed, or is my memory (just a little) exaggerative? Stored in the annuals of my memories are recollections of Saskatchewan snow banks as high as the house and temperatures that dipped to that brittlizing minus 50! Not that we need or want them, but how is it that we don’t have those kinds of Sask winters any more?
Another childhood memory that I don’t care to have repeated is that of major chest colds, bronchitis and the like with no anti-biotics to even give hope of relief. Instead, Mom had those flaming mustard plasters that inhibited any hair growing on a boy’s chest!
Last week, we viewed the video of the life of Fanny Crosby, writer of more Christian songs than any one else—ever (I suppose). What spiritual insight for one who lived almost all of her life blind.
And it was mustard plaster that did it! A quack doctor who pretended to know what to do with a little girl’s eye infection—blinded for life!
So, I got thinking about the dangers of pretentiousness, especially among professionals: doctors, teachers, consultants, nurses, counselors, ministers, parents, grandparents, to name only a few. When one’s word carries so much weight that a lifetime can be marred (or benefited). When an eternal destination might be determined by a sentence, a word, a tone—or absence thereof! Holding another’s destiny in ones hand is no small responsibility.
Perhaps this is at the heart of the biblical admonition: “Let not many of you presume to be teachers… because … we who teach will be judged more strictly” (James 3:1). It is no accident, I am sure, that that verse comes in the context of a discussion concerning the importance of controlling ones tongue.
How presumptuous of me to pose as a “teacher.” But I did and I do! Scary!
Monday, October 30, 2006
The Dentist's Chair
It was one of those numerous times when I have wondered, ‘Where is my camera when I need it?” It was also a “That reminds me” moment. Back in 1964, I remember a dental experience that lingers vividly in my “unique experiences.” I was clinging to the rudimentary dental chair of Dr. Chandra as he balanced himself on his right foot and peddled confidently with his left foot to keep the drill whirring on a cavity deep in my mouth. Dr. Chandra and his little, street-side office in Shillong (NE India) is long gone but I believe the filling still functions in my back molar.
Last June, in Regina, Dr. Kent Goldade installed braces on Autumn’s wandering teeth. He declared the process to be a two-year project. A year ago I had contacted an orthodontist here and tested her abilities by allowing her to clean my teeth. I am sure autumn is now thinking, “That was really brave, Grandpa. But it doesn’t hold a candle to what you have put me through!” Today was Autumn’s third visit to Dr. Lalrintluangi. It was really the first major adjustment—three wires inserted and tightened—ouchy, tonight!
About three-quarters of the way through the ordeal, the lights brightened up wonderfully. Then … darkness for the next 30 minutes. The doctor lit a candle and had me hold it, but I guess I wasn’t certified for that task. She informed me that, if we weren’t in a big hurry, that we would have to wait. So, I left autumn resting in the dentist’s chair went to a nearby to shop of groceries. When I return 20 minutes later, the assistant had two candles burning brightly on a tray and the orthodontist was busy at her assignment. Fortunately, the electricity returned for the last ten minutes of the 90-minute ordeal. So Dr. Laltluangi got to make sure every clip and brace and wire was where she wanted it.
Fortunately, it was Autumn and not her Grandmother or Andrew. Last week, I was with Autumn in the little dentist’s office. Andrew and his Grandmother were waiting on a bench just outside the door. Andrew’s curiosity could not be contained. He had to sneak in for a peak. The assistant made small conversation with him and then asked him about his teeth. (Last month, I had to take him to another dentist to remove a baby tooth). Now he has another baby tooth that has almost said good-bye to him. So, I suggested that the orthodontist take a quick look at that tooth. Andrew bolted for the door and down the steps—curiosity cancelled!
Contrary-wise, Autumn never whimpers. The only thing she asked for was a bottle of coke on the way home. Brave girl, Autumn.
Last June, in Regina, Dr. Kent Goldade installed braces on Autumn’s wandering teeth. He declared the process to be a two-year project. A year ago I had contacted an orthodontist here and tested her abilities by allowing her to clean my teeth. I am sure autumn is now thinking, “That was really brave, Grandpa. But it doesn’t hold a candle to what you have put me through!” Today was Autumn’s third visit to Dr. Lalrintluangi. It was really the first major adjustment—three wires inserted and tightened—ouchy, tonight!
About three-quarters of the way through the ordeal, the lights brightened up wonderfully. Then … darkness for the next 30 minutes. The doctor lit a candle and had me hold it, but I guess I wasn’t certified for that task. She informed me that, if we weren’t in a big hurry, that we would have to wait. So, I left autumn resting in the dentist’s chair went to a nearby to shop of groceries. When I return 20 minutes later, the assistant had two candles burning brightly on a tray and the orthodontist was busy at her assignment. Fortunately, the electricity returned for the last ten minutes of the 90-minute ordeal. So Dr. Laltluangi got to make sure every clip and brace and wire was where she wanted it.
Fortunately, it was Autumn and not her Grandmother or Andrew. Last week, I was with Autumn in the little dentist’s office. Andrew and his Grandmother were waiting on a bench just outside the door. Andrew’s curiosity could not be contained. He had to sneak in for a peak. The assistant made small conversation with him and then asked him about his teeth. (Last month, I had to take him to another dentist to remove a baby tooth). Now he has another baby tooth that has almost said good-bye to him. So, I suggested that the orthodontist take a quick look at that tooth. Andrew bolted for the door and down the steps—curiosity cancelled!
Contrary-wise, Autumn never whimpers. The only thing she asked for was a bottle of coke on the way home. Brave girl, Autumn.
Monday, October 23, 2006
NO ROOM
NO ROOM
The time of year is fast approaching when Luke 2:7 will again be an appropriate text for sermons asking the question as to whether our hearts, homes, lives, families, churches are as congested as the Bethlehem inns of two millenniums ago. “There was no room in the inn.”
Sometimes the “No Vacancy” sign clearly displays the “stay out of my territory” warning. Or, those welcome signs on businesses, “Absolutely no soliciting”! I remember when I (like many parents) stuffed mailboxes with advertisement fliers. What a novel idea to initiate ones children to the work-world … and, while they were swallowed up by the demands of their sports teams, you trudged through the snow to keep the business afloat! Remember those “no junk mail” edicts? Then, you had those articulate, old ladies who called the distributing agency complaining that they hadn’t got any fliers … for the last month! And, I expect you had one or more of those nasty old men who banded his door open to swear at you and inquire as why you can’t read English (in a blinding snow storm). “’No junk’; that means no fliers, you ….” How’s a guy supposed to win? Or, is he?
No room. Sometimes it isn’t that easy to read the signs. Have you ever dropped in (unannounced, of course) on a close friend, thinking you might have a quick chit-chat only to be greeted by, “What do you want?” or, perhaps more tactfully (or, tacitly), “What can I do for you?”
Time, energy, resources are all used up. Over-loaded. Over-committed. Learn to say, “NO,” at least that’s what our wise counselors tell us. No more room in my mailbox, my inbox, or my life.
Churches have learned to fend off fund-raisers, especially those crafty missionaries with the neat formula: “No room in the budget”. “You can come and talk to a few people—but absolutely no fund raising. Talk all you want about what you are trying to accomplish for the poor, the lost, and the Lord, but do not mention money.” Recently, I told our story under the auspices of those by-laws. I stayed half-a-globe away from money-matters but one brave saint ventured to give me a small cheque with the qualifier, “Please do not put me on any mailing list.”
I don’t remember ever receiving complaints that my reports where too long and/or too frequent. However, yesterday, from an acquaintance (he likely wouldn’t consider me a close friend), a retired professor of a Christian university, I received this memo: “Ray, please remove my email address from your mass mailings. … If not, unfortunately I would have to block your email address from virtually all correspondence.”
On the other side of the coin, I remember another college professor. It was registration and class scheduling time. My little brother was and the end of a long line of new students. Considerably after noon, he arrived at the door of Dr. Raymond Kelcy’s office. John apologized for being late and meekly suggested that Dr. Kelcy would likely want to go for lunch, since he was already quite late. (“The late”) Dr. Kelcy’s response (along with his positive influence) lingers with us, “Jesus always had room for one more person and so do I!”
And so, I wonder about my own "protected space"!
The time of year is fast approaching when Luke 2:7 will again be an appropriate text for sermons asking the question as to whether our hearts, homes, lives, families, churches are as congested as the Bethlehem inns of two millenniums ago. “There was no room in the inn.”
Sometimes the “No Vacancy” sign clearly displays the “stay out of my territory” warning. Or, those welcome signs on businesses, “Absolutely no soliciting”! I remember when I (like many parents) stuffed mailboxes with advertisement fliers. What a novel idea to initiate ones children to the work-world … and, while they were swallowed up by the demands of their sports teams, you trudged through the snow to keep the business afloat! Remember those “no junk mail” edicts? Then, you had those articulate, old ladies who called the distributing agency complaining that they hadn’t got any fliers … for the last month! And, I expect you had one or more of those nasty old men who banded his door open to swear at you and inquire as why you can’t read English (in a blinding snow storm). “’No junk’; that means no fliers, you ….” How’s a guy supposed to win? Or, is he?
No room. Sometimes it isn’t that easy to read the signs. Have you ever dropped in (unannounced, of course) on a close friend, thinking you might have a quick chit-chat only to be greeted by, “What do you want?” or, perhaps more tactfully (or, tacitly), “What can I do for you?”
Time, energy, resources are all used up. Over-loaded. Over-committed. Learn to say, “NO,” at least that’s what our wise counselors tell us. No more room in my mailbox, my inbox, or my life.
Churches have learned to fend off fund-raisers, especially those crafty missionaries with the neat formula: “No room in the budget”. “You can come and talk to a few people—but absolutely no fund raising. Talk all you want about what you are trying to accomplish for the poor, the lost, and the Lord, but do not mention money.” Recently, I told our story under the auspices of those by-laws. I stayed half-a-globe away from money-matters but one brave saint ventured to give me a small cheque with the qualifier, “Please do not put me on any mailing list.”
I don’t remember ever receiving complaints that my reports where too long and/or too frequent. However, yesterday, from an acquaintance (he likely wouldn’t consider me a close friend), a retired professor of a Christian university, I received this memo: “Ray, please remove my email address from your mass mailings. … If not, unfortunately I would have to block your email address from virtually all correspondence.”
On the other side of the coin, I remember another college professor. It was registration and class scheduling time. My little brother was and the end of a long line of new students. Considerably after noon, he arrived at the door of Dr. Raymond Kelcy’s office. John apologized for being late and meekly suggested that Dr. Kelcy would likely want to go for lunch, since he was already quite late. (“The late”) Dr. Kelcy’s response (along with his positive influence) lingers with us, “Jesus always had room for one more person and so do I!”
And so, I wonder about my own "protected space"!
Sunday, October 15, 2006
NOW THERE IS WATER
NOW THERE IS WATER, WATER, EVERYWHERE, BUT …
From mid-May till mid-October, the monsoon season usually brings an abundance of rain. During that time the mountain spring provides a generous supply of excellent water which is collected in a huge reservoir for the Silver Oak campus. However, about two months after the rains cease the spring dries up. From early in the new year we are faced with purchasing water from truckers who bring it up from the river.
Years ago another large cement reservoir was constructed just below the spring. However, it has been neglected and overrun with weeds and dirt. For the last month we have had a couple men working on cleaning and re-plastering and covering this valuable hole in the ground. If my calculations are anywhere close, it should contain more than 80,000 litres which will be very precious in a couple months.
Precious stuff, that water! I wonder what all might be included in Jesus’ claim to provide “the water of life”.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Steep Climb
Steep Climb
The structure for our bible college here at Silver Oak School in Mizoram, NE India is borrowed from NationsUniversity, “a school without walls that offers affordable, accessible higher education to build faith and develop culturally rooted Christian leaders around the world.” Our fall quarter of studies consists of four Old Testament subjects. Each subject (course) is arranged in 5 modules which are, in turn, subdivided into three units. Our study schedule allows for three weeks (15 class-days) per subject. If you have followed up to this point, you might also conclude that each day (3 class-time hours) is given to each unit! At the end of each module there is an examination via the internet.
On September 25, eight young men--we hope some women will join in the future--from various points in NE India embarked on a steep learning curve due to:
- No familiarity with the Old Testament
- Zero typing skills
- Strangers to computers
- Deficiencies in English
As though those were not challenges enough, their schooling to date is of another kind. I think it would not be far off the mark to state that the majority of schooling in these parts depends on the art of memorization. Teachers provide probable test questions accompanied by expected answers. Hours are spent memorizing “questions and answers.” Many teachers publish books which supply students with the “set of possible questions and required answers.” Analyzing, summarizing, discussing, questioning, exploring, interacting … are (unfortunately, in my opinion) supplanted by the “prepare-for-the-exam” syndrome. So, when faced with a subject as vast as Survey of the Old Testament, the traditional method of out-guessing the exam and memorizing answer comes up rather short!
On top of all that, a passing mark in these parts is usually around 30%. NationsU uses 70% as the passing mark!
However, I think we are all getting “in the groove.” NationsUniversity (http://www.nationsu.org/) provides a flexible structure with appropriate objectives for the making of disciple-makers here in the NE. The facilities are very adequate and the climate is ideal for those who wish to concentrate on studies.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Travel Tips
My travel agent blessed me with some neat tips for making my journeying a little less stressful. How did she guess?? Perhaps you might find them humorous or even useful sometime!
TEN COMMANDEMTNS FOR TRAVELLERS
1. You must not expect to find things as you have them at home, for you have left your home to find them different.
2. You shall not take anything too seriously – for a carefree mind is the beginning of a vacation.
3. You must not let the other tourist get on your nerves, for you have paid good money to have a good time.
4. Remember your passport, so that you know where it is at all times, for a person without a passport is a person without a country.
5. Blessed is the person who can make change in any language, for l he shall not be cheated.
6. Blessed in the person who can say “Than you” in any language, for it will be more valuable than any tips.
7. You shall not worry, for he who worries has no pleasures, and few things are ever fatal.
8. When in Rome, you shall do somewhat as the Romans do; if in difficulty, you should use your Canadian common sense and friendliness.
9. You must not judge the people of the country by one person with whom you have trouble.
10. Remember, you are a guest in every land; yes, he who treats his host with respect shall be treated as a n honoured guest.
TEN COMMANDEMTNS FOR TRAVELLERS
1. You must not expect to find things as you have them at home, for you have left your home to find them different.
2. You shall not take anything too seriously – for a carefree mind is the beginning of a vacation.
3. You must not let the other tourist get on your nerves, for you have paid good money to have a good time.
4. Remember your passport, so that you know where it is at all times, for a person without a passport is a person without a country.
5. Blessed is the person who can make change in any language, for l he shall not be cheated.
6. Blessed in the person who can say “Than you” in any language, for it will be more valuable than any tips.
7. You shall not worry, for he who worries has no pleasures, and few things are ever fatal.
8. When in Rome, you shall do somewhat as the Romans do; if in difficulty, you should use your Canadian common sense and friendliness.
9. You must not judge the people of the country by one person with whom you have trouble.
10. Remember, you are a guest in every land; yes, he who treats his host with respect shall be treated as a n honoured guest.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Landon Saunders
In Asheville, NC, a special weekend is planned in appreciation of Landon Saunders, founder of Heartbeat Ministires. You can check out the details at the above address on the web. Landon had a significant impact on my early (and late!) ministry. Here is some of that history:
I am sure I must have some Kodachrome slides (pictures) of Landon. However, I am not home (in Canada) to search through those boxes. I also am not definite of the year or month when Landon dropped in on us in Shillong, India, as he circled the globe. However, his coming was a god-send for us.
I believe it might have been in the spring of 1966 (maybe 1965). Ellen and I were living in a small apartment in Laitumkhrah, Shillong in NE India. We had been drawn into what today might be called “Campus Evangelism”, but, at the time, we didn’t have any fancy title for it! We had planned a weekend “gospel meeting” and were expecting Don Green from Malaysia to come and do the speaking. However, mid-week we received a telegram from Don saying he was not going to be able to make it. We had advertised extensively, so we were left scrambling to find an alternative.
Thursday morning (I believe it was) a knock at the door introduced us to a slender American traveler whom we had never heard of before. However, in those days, anyone from the English speaking world was a very welcome guest. Landon had noticed the banner over the gate so we had to tell him our distressing predicament. His response was, Well, if you would like, I would be happy to fill in.” “… would like, go for it, brother!” We had no idea of the magnitutde of the treat we were in for. Of course, he related marvelously with the college students who attend.
At that time I remember serious discussions among evangelists as to the requirement of an invitation at the end of the message. I have never been comfortable with the lengthy “invitations” that I was exposed to as a boy. Landon asked if he should give an “invitation” and I gave him freedom do as he might choose. Then, he humbly told me, “I have learned how to push the buttons that bring people down the isles but I refuse to push them.” I remember thinking, “Lord, give me access to some of those buttons!”
However, Landon’s greatest contribution to my life and ministry was not his serendipitous visit but, rather, his impact on my transitioning mind-set. Uponn my arrival in India in 1963, I had been thrust into a legalistic environment. As I worked my way through (out of) that, Landon’s messages, videos, and life-style have been contributing factors. Thanks, London, for the freshness that you have brought to our lives, our message, and our ministries.
Ray & Ellen McMillan, Silver Oak School, Durtlang Veng Thar, Mizoram, India
I believe it might have been in the spring of 1966 (maybe 1965). Ellen and I were living in a small apartment in Laitumkhrah, Shillong in NE India. We had been drawn into what today might be called “Campus Evangelism”, but, at the time, we didn’t have any fancy title for it! We had planned a weekend “gospel meeting” and were expecting Don Green from Malaysia to come and do the speaking. However, mid-week we received a telegram from Don saying he was not going to be able to make it. We had advertised extensively, so we were left scrambling to find an alternative.
Thursday morning (I believe it was) a knock at the door introduced us to a slender American traveler whom we had never heard of before. However, in those days, anyone from the English speaking world was a very welcome guest. Landon had noticed the banner over the gate so we had to tell him our distressing predicament. His response was, Well, if you would like, I would be happy to fill in.” “… would like, go for it, brother!” We had no idea of the magnitutde of the treat we were in for. Of course, he related marvelously with the college students who attend.
At that time I remember serious discussions among evangelists as to the requirement of an invitation at the end of the message. I have never been comfortable with the lengthy “invitations” that I was exposed to as a boy. Landon asked if he should give an “invitation” and I gave him freedom do as he might choose. Then, he humbly told me, “I have learned how to push the buttons that bring people down the isles but I refuse to push them.” I remember thinking, “Lord, give me access to some of those buttons!”
However, Landon’s greatest contribution to my life and ministry was not his serendipitous visit but, rather, his impact on my transitioning mind-set. Uponn my arrival in India in 1963, I had been thrust into a legalistic environment. As I worked my way through (out of) that, Landon’s messages, videos, and life-style have been contributing factors. Thanks, London, for the freshness that you have brought to our lives, our message, and our ministries.
Ray & Ellen McMillan, Silver Oak School, Durtlang Veng Thar, Mizoram, India
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Watching the Blogs
If you are an addicted blogger, you may have a hard time understanding how some of us get weary of the constant borage of instant information.
However, this week I have been very grateful for the constant updates that have come via Stephen Bell’s blog and Wendell Bailey’s emails regarding Stephen’s dad, Stan, who is in the Regina hospital battling “flesh-eating disease.” www.healthatoz.com describes the seriousness of the situation:
Flesh-eating disease is more properly called necrotizing fasciitis, a rare condition in which bacteria destroy tissues underlying the skin. This tissue death, called necrosis or gangrene, spreads rapidly. This disease can be fatal in as little as 12 to 24 hours.
I, among thousands, have been in prayer for Stan (and Maxine and family) and pondering anew the value of friends such as Stan Bell and families such as the Bells.
The journey of life is often rough, but those friends and families make the journey not only doable but also often very delightful.
However, this week I have been very grateful for the constant updates that have come via Stephen Bell’s blog and Wendell Bailey’s emails regarding Stephen’s dad, Stan, who is in the Regina hospital battling “flesh-eating disease.” www.healthatoz.com describes the seriousness of the situation:
Flesh-eating disease is more properly called necrotizing fasciitis, a rare condition in which bacteria destroy tissues underlying the skin. This tissue death, called necrosis or gangrene, spreads rapidly. This disease can be fatal in as little as 12 to 24 hours.
I, among thousands, have been in prayer for Stan (and Maxine and family) and pondering anew the value of friends such as Stan Bell and families such as the Bells.
The journey of life is often rough, but those friends and families make the journey not only doable but also often very delightful.
Monday, July 17, 2006
CRISSCROSSING PATHS
In the “good old” days, one of the delightful things about going and coming from India was the privilege to become acquainted with fellow-workers in various points along the way. On the way back to Canada in 1966, we connected with the Hendersons in Bangkok, the Reeves in Hong Kong, and the Betts and Smiths in Japan. Some pretty choice kingdom folk.In June of 1968, Ellen and I returned to NE India, taking with us our close friends, Bob and Sharon Parker. We interrupted our flight from Vancouver to Calcutta by stopping in Taipei, Taiwan, for a couple days. Ellen and I stayed with the Mullinaxs while Bob and Sharon stayed with another young couple—Ed and Sharon Short. They were new to the field but were already immersed in learning the Mandarin language.
While in Nashville, three weeks ago, I contacted Kok Hai Tan (Western Christian College’s new college dean). On the phone he said, “I will be staying at Ed and Sharon’s, let’s meet there.” Well, I tried to help them remember me but to no avail! However, the reconnection was special. They are both fluent in Mandarin and working with a Christian radio station which beams the good news out of place like Alaska and Madagascar. Their faithfulness and focus is an definite encouragement for my journey.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
The Nasty and the Nice
There are lots of things about traveling that are delightful, but some things that are depressing. I just concluded a two-week sojourn which started in Regina and touched down in (other) major centers: Calgary, Dallas-Fort Worth, Midland, Louisville, Nashville, Gonce (if you find that on your map – NE corner of Alabama, you have been reading the fine print!), and Yellowknife.
Each time the steward(ess) forces me to bucket down I ponder the fact that I am flying in style—at least 32,000 feet above my actual status in life. I grew up on horseback in an out-of-the way corner of SE Saskatchewan. What am I doing flying around in high class?
None-the-less, flying is an amazing way to sit down in Dallas and, in less than 4 hours, stand up in Calgary; enjoy a coke and be transported from Calgary to Yellowknife – to say nothing of waving goodbye to Kolkata and, in less than a day, step into our “home” in Regina! I wonder what William Carey would have accomplish if he had the likes of this!
It’s (often) very exhilarating. But it can also be tiring and discouraging. One way to limit depression is not to accept the newspaper offered to you while boarding. There are too many nasty people (and evens) in our world … and how do they deserve he front page of every newspaper.
On the other hand there a so many nice people. You can encounter some of them are in the air, but most of them are on the ground. In Midland, Texas (the antithesis of Allan McCrea’s “poverty canyon”), I was treated to the generous lifestyle and hospitality of Gary and Connie Tate. What a pair. In their 80’s; 60+ years of marriage. During the closing months of War II, Gary served as a soldier in NE India. His dreams of making a difference in that forgotten corner of the earth go on and on. Connie arises daily at 6 AM to go swimming with the girls. Her evening walks take her speeding around a course which encircles the neighbourhood. Life, Service, Hospitality. Vision.
Thank you, God, for the nice people who have dropped into my pathway.
Each time the steward(ess) forces me to bucket down I ponder the fact that I am flying in style—at least 32,000 feet above my actual status in life. I grew up on horseback in an out-of-the way corner of SE Saskatchewan. What am I doing flying around in high class?
None-the-less, flying is an amazing way to sit down in Dallas and, in less than 4 hours, stand up in Calgary; enjoy a coke and be transported from Calgary to Yellowknife – to say nothing of waving goodbye to Kolkata and, in less than a day, step into our “home” in Regina! I wonder what William Carey would have accomplish if he had the likes of this!
It’s (often) very exhilarating. But it can also be tiring and discouraging. One way to limit depression is not to accept the newspaper offered to you while boarding. There are too many nasty people (and evens) in our world … and how do they deserve he front page of every newspaper.
On the other hand there a so many nice people. You can encounter some of them are in the air, but most of them are on the ground. In Midland, Texas (the antithesis of Allan McCrea’s “poverty canyon”), I was treated to the generous lifestyle and hospitality of Gary and Connie Tate. What a pair. In their 80’s; 60+ years of marriage. During the closing months of War II, Gary served as a soldier in NE India. His dreams of making a difference in that forgotten corner of the earth go on and on. Connie arises daily at 6 AM to go swimming with the girls. Her evening walks take her speeding around a course which encircles the neighbourhood. Life, Service, Hospitality. Vision.
Thank you, God, for the nice people who have dropped into my pathway.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Aunt Pansy
Some folks have that special gift of making everyone feel special. I am sure that all the nieces and nephews, and hosts more, would testify to that godly characteristic of Aunt Pansy. Last June we were making a quick trip past Moose Jaw and, very fortunately, interrupted it for a delightful little visit with the Biens. And how grateful we are, since she won't be there to bless us this June when we plan to make that same trip. Thank God for up-lifters like Aunt Pansy and thank him too for opportunities to connect and journey with these spiritual encouragers.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Religion ... who needs it?
History, sociology, economics, and real state seem to strongly suggest that everybody does, in one form or another. Consider the wealth of our world that is tied up in religious land and buildings! Consider the employment provided by mega religious organizations! Consider the multitudes of temple, mosque, and pagoda goers! I doubt that many of us share Thomas Edison's blatant agnosticism, but we surely must ponder his notorious quip: "Humans are incurably religious".
Sure we can point to hospitals, schools, clinics, water-wells, famine relief, Livingstone, Carey, Brandt, and Mother Theresa. Certainly stars in often very dark nights. But then we are confronted with irritating, frustrating, intrusive, obnoxious, loud religiosity. Loud is "in".
How many travellers in the East have bedded down in an economy hotel, thinking that a peaceful night of rest would be worth the price only to realize that a religious festival is blaring its music into your room through every key hole and crack? Most Asian travellers have experienced the disturbance of a before-dawn un-welcomed loudspeaker transmitting the reading of the Scriptures or prayers in an incomprehensible language.
My picture of Jesus is that of one best described as "meek and gentle". The old movie popularized "have gun will travel". For would-be preachers it is often "have microphone will preach"---LOUD and l o n g.
I find it difficult to be grateful for the youngster in his Corvette who bounces up beside me at a red light and the decibels cause my little car to tremble as though it were the target of 7.7 earthquake. I experience the same challenge when religious folks share loudly what they seem to have too much of!
Religion, who needs it? Especially the "yelling-and-telling" variety.
Oh well, likely just another grumpy day! But, if you have something spiritual that you believe is worth sharing, please don't yell it at me!
Saturday, February 04, 2006
IN THE GRANDSTAND
IN THE GRANDSTAND
Most of us have discovered a few hindrances as we run the race of life. Some of us seem to have such great stamina that nothing slows us down. The rest of us need all the encouragement available. Sometimes our journey-fellows provide enough incentives to keep us on plodding onwards. My foot-racing days were never spectacular and, of course, are now so far in the distant past that even with embellishment they don’t make much of a story. However, I do remember the cheers from the sidelines which caused me to stay on track and to dig deep and put a little more pressure on the accelerator.
One week ago, a precious couple were snatched from this life via a tragic accident in Moose Jaw Saskatchewan. Uncle Ed and Aunt Helen are now in the grandstand, doing just what they have specialized in doing as a couple for 65 years, cheering us all on to run with perseverance the race marked out for us (Hebrews 12:1).
And if you don’t buy that picture, then be spurred on by their memory: hospitable, faithful, focused, honest, friendly …
Last June, Ellen and I enjoyed our last cup of tea with them and fortunately took this picture.
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