This is my third and final blog related to my recent cruise. As you know I have fretted over getting sea sick given my propensity to motion sickness. Thanks to good advice and a prescription for a derma patch I survived my week at sea quite well. I enjoyed spending time with 47 folks from the church as well as leading a Bible study on the topic of “Extra-Canonical Literature,” all without the least bit of queasiness from cruising the Caribbean.

What I was completely unprepared for was land sickness. Apparently for some of us readjusting to dry and steady ground can be a nauseating experience. It even has a name: Mal de Debarqument. I read where it is most common in pre-menopausal women…and apparently me. I assume there is not much to do but ride it out. Still, it is pretty embarrassing to sit at my desk and hang on for dear life while someone is trying to have a conversation with me. I just want my equilibrium back.

Have you ever been sea sick or land sick? What about life sick? We have all had events come our way and like a rogue wave sweep us off our feet leaving us out of balance. I have a better understanding now of those disciples who were crossing the Sea of Galilee while a storm threatened to sink them – of course I was on a 14 story cruise boat and the ocean was as smooth as glass. Do you remember the disciples’ plea with Jesus? “Do you not care that we are perishing?” (Mark 4:38) They just wanted their balance back.

Maybe that is why the church was symbolized as a boat in early Christianity. It is where we go when the sailing is smooth and it is where we hang on when the storms of life rage. In calm times and in torrential times we look to Christ to restore us.

Come to the church, not made by hands and brick, but of people on a journey.

Come to the church, to find balance and perspective.

Come to the church, to ride out the storms and look ahead for the shore.

Come to the church, where Christ is present and who cares very much whenever sea or land or life has made us sick.

After two Sundays away from our church, I am very much looking forward to worshipping with you this Sunday. If I am hanging on to the pulpit like at a captain at the stern you will know why.

Peace, peace, peace,

This week I am learning, in painful spurts, all the ways I am electronically tethered. It all started with an innocent cell phone purchase back in 1994. Already the church where I was serving as pastor had presented me a pager – you know, in case of emergencies. I saw the phone as a better way to communicate. That same year we also “got connected” to the internet and the world wide web. To my knowledge no one in the small church I was serving had an email account at that time so I was reduced to corresponding to the Director of Mission, who was a wizened old man in his thirties.

You can probably track the evolution of the electronic leash from here. Cell phones no longer come in bulky bags, one per household, but now have nearly replaced the old fashioned “land line” telephone and email accounts have spawned like a virus. The tethering continues with text messaging, social networking, smart phones, and lots and lots of battery rechargers. My routine is to start the day by plowing through all of the messages, contacts, funny stories, urgent replies and the like.

This week I am on this boat – well, it is a ship actually. All of those ways of staying connected and tethered and leashed now come with a cost. There are pricey fees for everything from a simple phone call to a quick email (which, by the way, is exactly how I am sending this article, although I found a place with free internet connection. I had to hike twelve miles crossing a rain forest and hooked up to solar powered mule that had satellite connection – okay, I made that last sentence up, but I am amused at the extremes I will go to for something that is free).

The point of all of this is that I am reminded, amazed, amused and a little bit chagrined at how often I feel tethered or leashed to these products that are suppose to be for our convenience. The truth is possessions can very easily posses the possessor.

What leashes you or tethers you down? Is it your work, your social obligations, or your material goods? There is a difference between staying connected and being imprisoned.

In Luke 12 Jesus said, “24 Consider the ravens: they neither sow nor reap, they have neither storehouse nor barn, and yet God feeds them. Of how much more value are you than the birds!… 29 And do not keep striving for what you are to eat and what you are to drink, and do not keep worrying… 31 Instead, strive for his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well.”

Be free sisters and brothers,

Greg

Hopefully no one will hear that phrase next week. Next week I will be leading a Bible Study for over forty members of First Baptist Church of Augusta members on a cruise ship. Yes, I know that my job is a difficult one, but someone must sacrifice for the sake of the Kingdom. I have held Bible studies in foreign countries, up trees, on the sides of mountains and during retreats but never on a cruise ship. Here is something else: I have never been on a cruise before. One more thing…

…I get motion sickness easy. Just the description of a rocking boat, or curvy roads along mountain passes, or the vicious circles of a Ferris wheel sends my digestive senses into a tail spin. That’s right, green around the gills, pass the barf bag, knee-walking motion sickness. I have read many remedies for motion sicknesses, but none seem to really help. The other day I was reading about how to prevent motion sicknesses when on a ship. First: do not stay in a room without a window. You will be relived to know our room has a view - a mechanical closet. The article went on to suggest that you need to spend time where you can see out, either through a porthole or on a deck with a view. Finally, keep your eyes on the far horizon and get your sense of balance by watching it rather than the closer, moving walls.

Not bad advice when you think about it. That is what it means to be part of the resurrection. We look ahead to God’s future. In the book The Vital Church, the authors write, “We must keep our eyes not only on the immediate circumstances but also on the purposes of the church, the spreading in the world of the love of God and the love of the neighbor, the formation of a servant people, the needs of the vulnerable neighbor, and the loving grace of God that both empowers and commands us to attend to all things contained in the good news.”

We spend an inordinate amount of time staring at the rolling stock market, the listing news reports, and the turbulent words of that bespeak hopelessness. It is no wonder so many are just plain sick. They have lost sight of the horizon, the hope, the destination of our journey.

As the people of God we are the people of the horizon. We are a people of hope; people of mission; people who live and practice the resurrection. Let us not look down, but look up, look out, and look forward to what God has for us in this great life entrusted to each.

I would write more, but staring down at this screen has caused me to feel a little, well, you know – queasy.

Peace be with you,

Rob remarked that you do not invite people to church. You invite them to Jesus. Of course inviting people to church is much easier. We can feed, entertain, enlighten and even enliven – all on one visit. Inviting people to Jesus, however, is inviting others into a relationship, which means commitment, discipline, sacrifice, relinquishing, and surrendering.

To invite another to church, any church or our church, doesn’t really require much of us personally. To invite someone to Jesus is to share in a relationship.

What kind of church do we want to be? Do we want to be a church of people where the journey ends at 3500 Walton Way or a people on a journey in relationships?

It reminds me of another “pithy” saying that I have picked up along the way: Don’t go to church. Be the church.

Be the church in word – all are welcome.

Be the church in mission – the world is our parish.

Be the church in love – every relationship has value.

Be the church in pursuit – inquiry is not tolerated, it is celebrated.

Be the church in worship – how can we not gather together and celebrate.

Come to church, not because you have been invited, but because church is where the body of Christ is made manifest in word and deed. For all of the above and so much more, I cherish our time together in the many opportunities to be the church: in fellowship, in study, in work and in worship. Thank you for letting me be a part.

How can we not invite others into the relationship that transforms all relationships?

Shelter Along the Appalachian Trail

This week I have been trekking back home – not the one in Grovetown, but the one in Putnam County. Actually I have not made it so far as home, but to my home church of my childhood. Beside it is the cemetery where my grandparents are buried and where I will be too one day. Just beyond the modest porch of the church is a Georgia Historical sign indicating that this church – Philadelphia Methodist Church – is where Joel Chandler Harris worshipped 150 years ago when he was just a boy. I was honored to be invited to preach their revival this week. Each night fifty or so familiar faces gather in the small sanctuary to listen to the “boy” they have helped to raise. They are getting older but as I glance at my graying beard I am reminded that I am getting older too. I became a Baptist at sixteen when I joined the church in town, but the collection of small churches around our dairy farm will always be home to me.

Over the years Amy and I have been pretty good at nesting for ourselves places to call home - even when we knew our stay would be temporary. Our first “home” was a tiny garage apartment in Rome, Georgia where I was finishing up my last year of college. Whenever our landlady would crank her ‘72 Buick the roar of the motor would shake books off of our shelves. Our next home for three years was our seminary apartment. It was an efficiency unit which meant that you could place your hand in every room in the apartment while seated at the kitchen table. We loved our apartments and they were as much a home to us as if we lived in a sprawling subdivision.

In the years following seminary we have lived in two very fine parsonages and one church owned furlough house that we also called home. The addresses change and so have the churches. It is my honor to call First Baptist Church of Augusta my home and when I am tired at the end of the day I feel at home when my car pulls into the driveway of 130 Nicoles Way.

Home is more than a slice of real estate or a postal address. It is as much a residence of the spirit and province of the consciousness. Do you remember when Jesus reminded his disciples, “… do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body, what you shall put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?” (Matthew 6:25) These words may not mean much to those of us who stay air-conditioned in the summer and centrally heated in the winter, but what about those families who lost their homes to Hurricane Katrina? Or the thousands of earthquake victims in Indonesia?

If nothing else these calamities are brusque reminders of the temporal natures of our houses. To be truly home, however, has a lasting permanence. For ancient Israel, to be home was not necessarily to be in a certain geographic region but to be with God. All of us will spend the rest of our lives searching for and making homes. Please do not confuse them with bricks and mortar. These will one day come to nothing. Our home is with God and this may take us to the far corners of the globe or simple down the shaded street.

Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor writes, We can serve the God who feeds and clothes and shelters by doing some of that ourselves, but always with the knowledge that it is God who provides -no - who is our true and only home, in whose household there is plenty - for the birds of the air, for the lilies of the field, and for every one of us.

Grace be with you,
Greg

A Messy, Early Morning Desk

Reading List 2009

Not every book I have read this year is a great book, but thus far no book on the list has been a waste of time. I am slowly learning that just because I start a book does not mean I have to finish it. Therefore there are several not on this list because, to be candid, they were wasting my time - life is short, right?

Non-fiction
Unpacking Boxes, by Donald Hall

Final Exam: A Surgeon’s Reflection on Mortality, by Pauline W. Chen

The Universe in a Single Atom: The Convergence of Science and Spirituality, by Tenzin Gyatso

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, by Robert Pirsig

The Book of Dead Philosophers, by Simon Critchley

Brother to a Dragonfly, by Will Campbell

Walden, Henry David Thoreau

Essays
Eagle Pond, by Donald Hall

Spirituality
The Asian Journals of Thomas Merton, by Thomas Merton

Thoughts in Solitude, by Thomas Merton

Theology
Questions to all Your Answers: The Journey from Folk Religion to Examined Faith, by Roger E. Olson

Biblical Studies
Excavating Jesus: Beneath the Stones, Behind the Texts, by John Dominic Crossan and Jonathan L. Reed

Fiction
Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse

Ahab’s Wife: Or the Stargazer, by Sena Jeter Naslund

Unaccustomed Earth, by Jhumpi Lahiri

Peace Like a River, by Leif Enger

Robinson Crusoe, by Daniel Defoe

Pastoral Care
The Couple Checkup, by David H. Olson. I actually read this book in 2008 but forgot to put it on the list.

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Day 1 - Thursday

We left Atlanta on time around 3pm and arrived at New York to catch the flight to Budapest. Outside of the ubiquitous crying babies and a few rowdy passengers the flight was uneventful. The same could be said for our 8 or so hour flight to Budapest. I know because I did not sleep a wink during the night. I have never been one to sleep on planes because I just cannot get comfortable - or maybe I just don’t want to subject passengers to my late night drooling!

Day 2 - Friday
We arrive somewhere around 11:30AM (5:30AM in Augusta) and were greeted by CBF Missionaries Glen and Clista Adkins (Glen is also the former Minister of Music at FBC Augusta). Our first official stop was for a quick bite to eat at Burger King. After being subjected to the meager meals of an airline, I was glad to eat a whopper which in Hungary tastes just like a whopper anywhere. We then enjoyed a three hour trip to Pecs, which was interrupted half way with a pit stop at a convenience store. The land moved from sprawling farm land to rolling hills dotted by vineyards. Pecs is quite hilly and beautiful as are many of the old European cities.

Our rooms are simple but quite lovely and mine overlooks a busy side street dotted by cafes and many pedestrians who stay up very late! Later that evening Glen and Clista hosted us in their wonderful two bedroom flat, which is just a five minute walk from the hotel. We had a brief team meeting and then were off for restful slumber. I was exhausted and so I easily fell asleep by ten…

Day 3 - Saturday
…and was wide awake by one in the morning. Yes, jet lag with a vengeance, so it was a good thing that I brought plenty of things to read. By five I had given up and went jogging through the city. The sun is up by five so this was a pleasurable time to see the sites without all the people crowding the sidewalks.

We took our breakfast at the hotel, as we will do each morning. The breakfast provided includes slices of pepperoni, and other cold cuts, along with mild cheeses, rolls, and granola. The coffee is of the instant variety, but I am grateful for what I can get.

Afterwards I hiked down the hill to the city outdoor market which proved to be a wonderful adventure joining hundreds of Hungarians shopping. There were little old ladies selling beautiful flowers potted in old yogurt containers and coke bottles; Roma women selling mushrooms of every variety gathered from the surrounding country side; there were venders selling sausages and other meats of all varieties; fresh eggs, fresh milk, and vats and vats of freshly made kraut - I love sour kraut!

Later that day Glen and Clista took us touring the Roma villages outside of Pecs. Glen said that unless they see students from the school we would not stop because we would be viewed with great suspicion by the villagers. The houses ranged from small shanties on the verge of collapse to neat block houses. As our vans crawled by locals would look intently at us with understandable curiosity. Just outside of one village was a large field of rape seed in full bloom - brilliant yellow flowers. As we were mugging for flowers, a farm wagon pulled by two horses with several Roma gypsies trotted by. You know me; I held up my camera and asked if I could take a picture. They were delighted to by photographed and we “tipped” them as a thank you.

In the next village I noticed a house with baskets placed alongside the fence. I asked Glen if they were sale and he said he had no idea. He stopped the van and we debated whether or not to get out and asked. A few of us decided to walk to the house - a rather simple block house on packed dirt - and ask the man who quickly approached us. He was flanked by a few other adults and many children - none of whom could speak English. The baskets were for sale and we bought what he had, which was not enough for all of us. He was so pleased that he invited Glen and me to come with him behind his house and showed us how he made them. It was quite and honor for us to be allowed onto their place and we all agreed that this was a wonderful and positive interaction.

Later that evening we ended up at a great restaurant where I enjoyed deer sausage and good old sour kraut!

Day 4 - Sunday

What a day! We began not in church but at a flea market. Yes, it is just what you imagine: rows and rows of venders selling everything from used car parts, old antiques, and a bit of junk. While I enjoyed site seeing, Milton Martin never allowed the language barrier to get in the way of negotiations. I was impressed. We were there about an hour and then returned to our hotels to prepare for a full day of church services.

The first church we attended was the Pecs Baptist Church, affiliated with the European Baptist Fellowship. It is thought to be the largest Baptist church in Hungary and on the day we attended I would estimate the number around 250-300 in worship. It was a long service of nearly two hours with little in the way of translation. There was not much congregational singing, but several testimonies and few ensemble and choir pieces. We all thought it a highlight when we sang Blessed Assurance in English and then the congregation joined us in Hungarian. I was invited up to give a welcome on behalf of First Baptist Church and share of our common historic mission to proclaim Christ worldwide.

After morning worship we visited a restaurant on a mountain top overlooking a coal mine. It was lovely place, in spite of the coal mine, and the food was a buffet of Hungarian dishes. Naturally it was important for me to try everything twice!

Afterwards we attended the Roma (gypsy) Church in Pecs which was a beautiful experience. When we arrived we were warmly greeted by the Romas and service began promptly and enthusiastically afterwards. Loud, spirited singing filled the small church with the singing accompanied by a guitar and keyboard. The retired pastor gave greetings to the church of about 30 or so worshippers (not counting our team). He was in a wheelchair and due to diabetes lost his legs and “apologized” to us because of this but said he is happy because Christ has made him whole. I then was invited up to give a welcome and “testimony” (all with a translator of course). They were very receptive and peppered my remarks with their own “amens” and “hallelujahs.” Afterwards I presented the church with a guitar as a gift from First Baptist. Glen said this gift is the equivalent of giving a church in the states a grand piano. They were filled with gratitude and thanks. Our mission team sang for them “Blessed Assurance” and we then sat for the sermon. Our translator was invited by the preacher to interpret for us, which was very helpful. Two or three times I was asked to come up during the sermon and read in English the various scripture references. The service lasted about two hours as well but the time past quickly. While you can see much hardship in their eyes, there is also a kindling joy and peace in the faces of many. Still, their situation is hard.

After dinner we met to plan for our first day at the Gandhi School and by ten we were all in our rooms ready for a full day ministering to the Roma teenagers.

Day 5 - Monday

Our teaching teams left for the school bright and early and began our work of teaching English. My team’s first class was ninth graders who were just beginning their studies in English. It is funny, but while there are many cultural, ethnic, language and economic differences, teenagers are in some ways all alike. They initially view us with some suspicion and guardedness but soon begin their own version of good natured teasing to sincere appreciation. There clothes, for the most part, look much like what kids in the States wear today, but it is usually their only outfit for the whole week.

All day long classes were taught with a brief lunch break of pbj sandwiches. George Williams and Rebecca Elkin gave a presentation on health and wellness and did a marvelous job. Some of the kids asked good questions and as the week unfolds I suspect this will open more doors through the week.

That evening we (FBC Augusta) treated the school to pizza and a program. The cafeteria was filled with enthusiastic students eating all the pizza they wanted and drinking lots of Pepsi.  The program, well, that in itself was worth the price of admission (which was free). The men entertained with a musical sketch that included a rendition of the YMCA, a popular gypsy song, and concluding with a visit by Elvis. Yes, the students were wound up at this point. Glen then led the students in singing popular songs including feliz Navidad. Glen then asked all of the men to return to the stage and asked the students to vote on who they thought was the pastor or priest of the church (at this point only a very few understood that I was the preacher). George was already identified as the doctor so he did not get the vote. Only a few considered Milton pastor material - I mean he was Elvis right? Joe Pollock received a strong vote of applause. Kelly too was a strong second. By this time the kids figured where this was going so they voted my approval, which is good since I need all the approval I can get.

I then stood up and shared with the students a brief message of God’s choosing to love each of us and our invitation to choose God. In spite of our earlier silliness, the students listened amazingly well and were expression their appreciation afterwards. I conclude with a “blessing” over them. I cannot help but think it is vitally important for them to be set free from the shame and indignities that they have experienced all of their lives. I suppose this is what we are to experience each time we gather and depart from worship.

We handed out t-shirts for all that were in attendance and they gladly lined up. Interesting isn’t it how much a simple thing a t-shirt can be for these students. Quickly they put them on and for the rest of the evening we saw students wearing these team t-shirts. We then cleaned up our areas and mopped the kitchen and headed out to eat. Normally I am in bed by 9:30 or 10, but that night we were eating dinner. It was a good day all day.

Glen and Clista are a joy and an extension of our world wide mission. How grateful I am that they represent not only our church, but churches throughout the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and Christians worldwide. I am proud of what they are doing, what they are giving and how they are living.

Day 6 - Tuesday

For most of us, the morning was free time and preparing for the afternoon and evening sessions at the Gandhi School. I had a rather chaotic jog around town at about 7am and decided the traffic, smog and pedestrians was not worth it. I have found that the best time to run is around 5 or 6, which lately is too early for me considering what time we have been finishing each evening.

I am so pleased with every member of the team. While there are many personalities and leaders, all are working and cooperating beautifully. There could not be finer people to work with on this occasion (well, it would be nice if Amy was here, but someone has to manage the homestead, right?).

When we arrived at the School we were immediately greeted by enthusiastic students excited about the day with us. May of them had not yet received a t-shirt and so we handed them out to a constant stream of students. Those that had them were wearing them proudly. Did you ever think something so simple as a t-shirt would be so pleasing to a teenager? Beth Pollock provided capable and friendly leadership in this area.

Several of us assisted Glen in setting up the choir room. We were then treated to choir practice with a room full of Roma students and it was like a concert. Guys were flailing away at the guitars and all were singing with gusto and enthusiasm, song after song. Most of the tunes were Roma (Gypsy) songs, but on one a young lady stood up to sing a solo which was also in Roma, but the tune was a beautiful version of Joyful, Joyful - a bit melancholy but beautiful. We all had tears in our eyes by the time the choir joined in and it had a decidedly gypsy bent. It was an arrangement Glen had adopted from - are you ready for this - the movie Sister Act!

After choir a young lady remained and through an interpreter explained that she wanted to sing us a solo. She is a member of the Roma Church and said that this was a believer’s song. She then began a beautiful and soulful song that, in spite of it being in a different language, pierced your heart and yet gave hope. The translator explained it was about overcoming darkness and finding hope in God. Wow.

Dinner was a brief affair at the mall (which is small but outside of the Hungarian language looked like a mall). Kelly is one of the drivers and is doing a great job keeping all of us organized and together. I have never been on a trip better organized than this one that Kelly is leading. I am proud to work with him. In fact that night he shared a message through an interpreter based on the Prodigal Son. Since our theme is choosing, Kelly commented that we have all made bad choices but we have made one good choice that has made all the difference. Well said.

After Kelly’s message we all made necklaces with the students that included the beautiful pendant made by a potter in Augusta. They were so proud and we were thrilled to be a part. While we fashioning necklaces, Kelly, Glen and Joe Pollock went and purchased 190 ice cream bars. Guess how many we had left over? Yep - zero!

We were back at the hotel for a team meeting at 9:30. Even though the morning was comparatively easy, the afternoon and evening was full and it was a good day all day!

Day 7 - Wednesday

The day began a bit cooler than usual, but like every other day the highs were around the low 70s (I am to understand Augusta got to experience summer early this past week). Following our breakfast we loaded up the vans and headed for another full day at the School. As each day passes the students grow more and more friendly, calling us by name and quickly offering hugs and handshakes. I taught a few of the guys the fist jab or fist pump as an alternative to the high five which probably amused me more than them.

Our lessons have gone over extremely well and while this was a team effort I want to thank Debbie Williams for her wonderful talent in making them approachable and creative. The students were delighted to be rewarded with such treats as M&Ms, highlighters, pens and pencils. One young lady produced two pencils that she had saved from last year’s team - imagine that! Some are eager and others are shy to try out their English but they all want to learn because it is helpful for their future. Each class we taught we worked hard at affirming every student, reminding them of God’s marvelous claim in their life. The Gospel is at its core a message of God’s love and our hope.

Following our teaching time we joined Mariam Brown and Margaret Daniel who helped host a teacher’s appreciation reception. Here we presented to them gifts from the church which included bags, personal items and teaching helps. They enjoyed cookies, soft drinks, lovely flowers and conversation. Glen shared with me later that up until our mission teams started hosting appreciation receptions the teachers have never really had special attention of that kind. Since then the Gandhi school has begun setting aside a special day to tell their staff thank you. The director invited me to share a few remarks and I extended to them our love and appreciation for what they are doing to change the world one child at a time. We too should be reminded that as we serve the least of these we are serving Christ (Matthew 25).

Afterwards we were the ones treated to a surprise - the students wanted to treat us to some music and dancing. They sang several traditional gypsy songs and one young lady danced over to Glen and twirled him around. I was all ready to bust a move but I suppose they are not ready for redneck boogie. The spokesperson was a delightful young lady who could speak a bit of English and she thanked us for taking the time to be with them. In addition to the music they made each one of us bracelets and baked a large loaf  of gypsy bread (I would guess it weighed five pounds and  was at least 18 to 24 inches in diameter.) Glen and Clista were blown away that the students would do this on their own and said while they have always shown gratitude to the visiting groups in the past, never have they done so much. The sharing of bread, like it is in many cultures around the globe, was a significant act of friendship. What a way to end our day of teaching. I have the recipe and we will work on perfecting this bread in the states and hope to share it when we give our missions presentation as well as for a future communion service.

As we prepared to walk to our next event, we met up again with a young friend whom Glen and Clista befriended shortly after arriving on the mission field. His name is “Norbi” and he is a young gypsy boy who lives in Pecs and whom Glen hopes to get enrolled into the Gandhi school next year. Right now he spends his time on the street begging for money and selling post cards for change. I have seen him most every day and he has a beautiful smile. It is thought that his family may force him to beg and he cannot come home until he has “earned” enough money. Norbi is just one story among the many. Perhaps through Glen and Clista he too will be given a viable opportunity at a different and better life.

We closed the day by having our last meal together in Pecs. Glen and Clista picked out a restaurant located in an old wine cellar. It was a great location to enjoy a leisurely supper as we reflected on the last seven days. Tomorrow we will attend a ceremony for seniors where we will meet for the last time with our students as well as several visiting families. We will then board our vans and make the three or so hour drive to Budapest. By Saturday this  good and worthy mission will be a cherished memory.

A good day, all day.

Day 8 - Thursday

We started the day following breakfast by attending for the last time the Gandhi School. Today was the day of Balagas (pronounced Balagash in case you plan on going to Hungary anytime soon). Balagas is a ceremony for seniors. Everyone is dressed in their best for this important day and so the mission teamed donned our Sunday clothes and sat in the bleachers. It began much like a graduation ceremony would begin in the States - with the Hungarian national anthem, followed by two Romany anthems (Padua Vergye and Gelem Gelem). The three anthems lasted about ten minutes.

Since we had translator I had to guess at what was being said. Basically a few scholastic awards were given as well as remarks by the director (principal) of the school. The seniors were each holding flowers and at a point in  the service they left their seats and gave flowers to their family, teachers and special people in their life. Several were presented to the group and of course Glen and Clista received many flowers from grateful students. Glen and Clista have said that for most of the families gathered their child was the first one to complete high school. In fact, among the Roma people, only about 15% move beyond an 8th grade education. Just to be attending the Gandhi School shows a will to improve ones self in the larger Hungarian culture.

Afterwards we took many more pictures of students and one group picture in front of the school, packed up the van and headed for Budapest, the last leg of our journey home. Counting lunch the drive was a bit over three hours. We made a couple of “touristy” stops, one to the Citodel which overlooks the city of Budapest and the second to the famous Herrend Pottery (I stood outside). Negotiating through the streets of downtown Budapest was…well…a religious experience. I felt nearer to God in a way not previously known. Kelly was one of our drivers and he looked a bit ashen when he emerged from the van. I dug my nails in the dashboard, so we may have to pay for that!

Our hotel is quaint and small and located near the airport. Friday is our “free day” so we will spend it downtown, spending what little cash we have left.

A good day all day, but we will greatly miss the students we have come to know and love. I have more stories to share, some of which will be in this Sunday’s sermon.

Day 9 - Friday

This was our free day before traveling back home. At this point most, if not all of us are ready to head on home and see our families and friends. I suppose, however, we should squeeze in some touristy stuff and see the sites of the beautiful ancient city of Budapest. I will not bore you with the details of the day other than to say it was a pleasant and relaxed time together. We all ate well (as we have during this whole mission) and we closed the day with a supper along the Danube.

Day 10 - Saturday

There is no need in writing a log for Day 10 since it will be mostly filled with airplane travel and rustling our luggage and arriving back to Augusta tired and worn out around 1:20 AM Sunday.

Let me close this log by offering a few words focused not on Hungary, or the Gandhi School or Roma gypsies, but on those who participated on this mission.
First, to Kelly Hamilton: About three years ago Kelly switched responsibilities as our Minister of Missions and Faith Development. He has proven himself over the years as a capable, compassionate and responsible leader and this trip only confirms these attributes. I am proud of his leadership and his heart and it is an honor to work with him. Plus, he is a pretty good van driver in the maddening streets of Budapest!
To the teaching team led by Rebecca Elkin which included Bok Bemis and Mariam Brown. All three were a joy and a treasure. Rebecca was organized and never seemed to get rattled and kept us all on task. Bok radiated love for every child and they quickly took to her. Mariam’s school experience came out as she guided, assisted and kept me in line. It was the first time I have ever worked with these individuals and I am proud that they are part of FBC.
George and Debbie Williams are a dedicated couple who love the Lord, the church, and the Roma people - it was demonstrated throughout the trip. Margaret Daniel has an infectious laugh and she was as steady as all the rest as we moved from class to class, and from one event to the next. Her southern charm translated the Roma culture easily.
Even though this was Joe Pollock’s first mission trip, his aptitude quickly made him a close second as the pastor of the church from the popular vote of the students. He was willing and ready to jump in and do whatever necessary (including participating in goofy skits) to make this mission a success. Beth is a veteran with these mission trips and her experience was most helpful. There is nothing she will not tackle - including the food on someone else’s’ plate (namely mine).
Milton Martin is not only a tough flea market negotiator, he knows how to connect with the students. He can laugh, play and tease with the best of them, and it was clear that the students loved him. Kathy’s well of compassion runs deep and she was a steady voice of encouragement to every member of the team, even when we felt tired and worn out.
Cathi Gough’s teaching experience was demonstrated throughout the entire mission. Her eye for detail, self-deprecating humor, and energy inspired us all.

It remains an honor for me to serve as their pastor. Additionally I am grateful to our congregation who supported us prayerfully and financially. This mission was important not only for the Gandhi School and the Roma students, but to our church as we respond to the Great Commission.

]]> http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/2009/05/06/hungary-mission-report/feed/ http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/2009/05/06/hungary-mission-report/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/gregdeloach/~3/Cwb9WhfsuQw/ http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/2009/04/22/the-gypsies-among-us/#comments Wed, 22 Apr 2009 12:43:49 +0000 Greg http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/?p=212

As you read this I am well on my way, along with twelve other members of the church, to Pecs, Hungary. This is the second mission trip to work with Cooperative Baptist Fellowship missionaries Glen and Clista Adkins at the Gandhi School where we will, in part, teach English to the Roma youth.

Roma is a term I was not at all familiar with ten or so years ago, but then I started reading about the Romani people in mission’s related writings. Loosely defined Romani people are an ethnic group whose origins can be traced back to South Asia, into India, and for a thousand years have lived dispersed throughout Europe, particularly Central and Eastern Europe. In Hungary, as in most places, they are called gypsies because at one time it was mistakenly assumed that the Romani came from Egypt. The term “gypsy” has a pejorative connotation and historically until present day they continue to be victims of violence and persecution. During World War II they were a target of genocide by the Nazis. In 2008 Italy has singled the Romani out for registration.

Imagine growing up and being told that because of your ethnicity, your culture or your looks you are of lesser value. Last year several of our church members, during free time, went out to eat in the city wearing t-shirts with the Gandhi School emblazoned upon it. They were ignored by the restaurant. There association with gypsies labeled them.

Our work will, in part, be to not only strengthen and encourage the work of the teachers by assisting in teaching English, but communicate that Romani do count, they are loved, there is a future and it can be good. It will also be a time for us to share with them the importance of making good choices in the midst of adversity. The most important choice, of course, is to know that God first chooses us, each of us, gypsies, Romas, Americans and Hungarians.

What a wonderfully liberating thought: God chooses us! In John 15:16 Jesus says to his followers: “I chose you.” When we recognize that since the very beginning of creation when the breath of God set the world spinning we are a decision of God. This sets us free from the choices others make that threaten to bind or limit us.

Of course we do not have to go half way around the world to minister to and love gypsies. There are gypsies among us. What choice will we make to set another free? Thank you for your prayers as we work, minister and love alongside our neighbors in Hungary.

Peace be with you,

Greg

…bread, of course. For most of us bread is both abundant and taken for granted. Except for the annual threat of a snowstorm which rarely manifests, grocery store shelves are filled with bread of numerous (countless?) varieties.

Store bought bread, however, tastes…store bought. That is why I like baking bread. Baking bread can be both fun and frustrating. Like most anything homemade, the ingredients are important, and not just what goes in, but how much, how long, etc. One of the things I like about making and baking bread is that the mixing and kneading is done largely by hand. Observing the dough’s feel and texture is most important.

Once bread is all mixed and kneaded you leave it alone and wait for the yeast to do its work. It may take an hour, or two, but slowly and steady the dough rises and the loaf takes shape. It is then ready for the hot oven and soon the kitchen is full of the yeasty smell of fresh bread! (don’t you wish this blog was scratch and sniff? Go ahead, lean into the monitor – you know you want to!)

The best part of fresh baked bread is not in the making or the baking, but the breaking. Even better, is when you can break bread with people you love. Many Saturday evenings, if we do not have church commitments, Amy and I (and sometimes the boys when on the rare occasion they are home) will sit in our back yard and share fresh bread alongside olive oil for dipping. We also enjoy baking bread to share with friends and neighbors.

Baking and breaking, a beautiful movement of life in God.

There is so much dumped, added and mixed into our lives - good and bad and indifferent – that exceeds our control or understanding. We live our years mixing it all together, kneaded and being kneaded, shaped and formed by the very hand of God. And then come those times when nothing seems to be happening; stillness and quiet, solitude and perhaps a touch of loneliness. Like yeast in dough, however, these can be our most formative moments, when our true shape is being revealed. Then the ovens! The trials, the testing, and the enduring.

Easy analogies in the writing, but we are well aware that living is no waltz across the dance floor. How is God shaping you? How about the church?

Furthermore, how do we see our life being shared? Like bread divided among people you love, so it is with our very lives. Life is best when shared. It cannot, in the end, be hoarded away thinking that we live for ourselves alone. Our sharing is not merely among those we love, but even, perhaps especially, among those we don’t – our enemies, those different from us, the strangers, the poor.

Through the ages the poor and the least of these are disdained and disregarded for not having enough bread; for not working hard enough; and so on.

Imagine living up to the vision of Christ: the city on a hill that cannot be hidden! God has made something wonderful in each of life and our wonder is best and fully realized when we share it with others. No wonder Jesus compared the Kingdom of God to yeast mixed in flour – abundance comes in the sharing.

Thanks be to God that you have allowed me to share my life with you and you with me.

Peace,

Basic French Bread

• Dissolve 1 packet of yeast in 1 ¼ cup of warm water
• Tablespoon of melted butter
• Tablespoon of salt
• 4 cups of flour

Mix first three ingredients. Begin adding flour one cup at a time until the dough is elastic enough to be kneaded. When kneading the dough it may be necessary to add more flour (humidity and heat affect amount). After kneading for approximate 5-10 minutes place dough in an oiled bowl and cover with towel. Allow to rise for 1 ½ or until it has doubled in size. Punch the dough down and divide into half. Knead each half and shape as a small French loaf (about 12 to 18 inches). Score the top several times and allow the loafs to rise for another hour or so. Preheat oven to 400 degrees. With one egg white, gently brush the top of each loaf before placing in the oven and bake for 25 minutes or until golden brown. Allow to cool on a cooling rack. Enjoy!

]]> http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/2009/04/02/baking-and-breaking/feed/ http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/2009/04/02/baking-and-breaking/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/gregdeloach/~3/RDf_5gr_5SQ/ http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/2009/03/26/how-did-you-get-here/#comments Thu, 26 Mar 2009 13:31:28 +0000 Greg http://fbcblogs.com/pastor/?p=204

Car? Bus? Cab? Horse? Train? Mule? How did you get here? Throughout my childhood until I was old enough to own my own car (a 1969 Mustang fastback, 3 speed, straight six - for those of you who are curious) I went to church in my daddy’s pick-up. On the dairy there was little need for a car, so our family of five (my daddy, sister, two younger brothers and myself) would squeeze into his ’73 Ford pick-up to go to church each Sunday. By the time we arrived in the parking lot we sort of looked like a “DeLoach explosion” once the doors of the truck flew open.

I have come a long way. Now I come to church in a 2005 MINI Cooper. Well, to be fair about this, Amy and the boys come later in station wagon. How do you get here?

The question isn’t just concerned with modes of transportation. It really doesn’t matter to me if you came in a station wagon, minivan, walked or rode a mule (although you have to be careful where you park a mule). To ask, “how did you get here” is really a spiritual question. Who were the ones in your life that taught you about faith, that loved like Jesus and inspired you to do the same?

In John’s Gospel we read of some Greeks that came to one of Jesus’ disciples and asked, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” (12:21) Philip and Andrew were asked to help the Greeks “get there.”

As a “City on a Hill” we have been entrusted to teach, share and be the presence of Christ that all might “see Jesus.” As we travel through Lent and prepare for Easter know that you are surrounded with those making the same request of those ancient Greeks. I ask you to be faithful in your attendance, in your participation and in your living as a traveler after Jesus.

How did you get here? How we answer that question is eternally significant. I am thankful my dad got me to where I am by a truck, by example, and by love.

Getting there with you, with grace and peace,

Greg