Using his left foot!

Rufus, our eldest son, came back from school in an uncharacteristic melancholic mood last week. He’s normally upbeat, especially on a Friday because the week finishes with triple games. And for a sports’ loving lad, what’s not to love about that. But he looked decidedly under the weather, so I asked how things had gone. Not well. It wasn’t that the bottom had fallen out of his world. But it was pretty close.

He’d only made the seconds.

Spring term means football. Sadly the oval ball is consigned to the cupboard. The sports’ staff had divided the boys up into squads. After a few sessions casting their eyes over the talent before them they had to make some choices. Rufus had only made the seconds. He was in the first team last year. He was gutted. And there was a sense of incomprehension at the decision which, being a one-eyed father, I shared! I could have said, ‘it’s only footy’ and not a sport that really matters (which is what I really think). But I didn’t. I could have asked Rosslyn for advice about what to say. But I don’t think she ever got dropped in her life.

Let’s be honest. Making the seconds isn’t awful, though it feels like it when you’re not used to it. It’s actually quite an achievement in a school with 90 boys in the year group and only 7 boys in a team (though there are probably 10 in a squad). Footy isn’t Rufus’ sport. He’s small for his age. He’s just coming back into contact sport after a broken arm. But the simple truth is that (in the opinion of the selectors) he’s not good enough at the moment to make the first team. And that’s not altogether bad.

Rosslyn and I are grateful for this recent turn of events. We don’t like seeing our boy ‘crushed’ but there are lessons to be learnt. Rufus and I had a bit of a chat on our journey home. I can help with sport. It’s Biology and French that I struggle with. So we talked, on the hoof. And I’m sure that I said some useful things. But I’m pretty sure there was a whole load of dross as well. As I’ve reflected and we’ve talked some more, these are the four things I’ve said in response to being dropped. I wish I’d learnt them when I was younger. To my shame, I was rubbish at being left out of the starting XV or demoted to the seconds. These same four principles apply to all of us who play sport and have to cope with the disappointment of being told that we’re just not good enough at the moment.

1. It’s an opportunity to react to life’s disappointments. Life doesn’t always turn out the way we want it to. And that’s not a bad thing to learn, even if you’re only ten. I’m intrigued to see how he’s going to react. Lot’s has gone his way so far in life. He’s very good at the things he loves; namely sports. But that rich vein of form won’t last. And it’s going to be interesting to see whether he loses interest in the things where he doesn’t succeed. But it may help him put his sport into perspective. The danger is that whichever sport he’s playing that term can become the be all and end all. But there’s more to life than sports. And he needs to know that. The crushing sense of disappointment at being dropped does hint at some underlying issues that have been worth talking about. We’ll come onto those. But sport can become an idol even at such a tender age. And we’ve had a chance to talk about the appeal of sport and why we value it so much. Being dropped has been a good thing.

2. It’s an opportunity to realise that ability isn’t identity. In other words, we’re not what we’re good at. But that’s not usually how it works in a school (or in life). And in a boys’ school with a sporting pedigree, ability matters. One of the reasons that his transition in into a completely new school has gone so well was because he made his way into the first rugby team at scrumhalf. But I don’t want Rufus’ identity to be bound up with sporting success or which team he’s in, but with Christ. I want him to think of himself as belonging to Jesus more than he thinks of himself as belonging to any team, or indeed our family. I don’t want him to think of himself as being something because he’s one of the best footballers in his year. That’s arrogant. I want him to walk around gobsmacked that God in His kindness has given him the privilege of being a follower of Christ. That’s humility. God has picked him for Christ’s team. That’s all the selection he needs!

3. It’s an opportunity to respond by improving his game. He’s been left out of the first team for a reason; the coaching team don’t think he’s good enough. He could despair at the injustice of it all. Or he could go away and sulk, much like his Father would. Or he could go away and improve his game. This could actually make him a better player. He could stop coasting and actually apply himself to working out what he does well, what he contributes to a team and what he needs to work on. Presumably God gives us disappointments to remind us that we’re not the finished article; that there are areas where we could improve. And I’m not simply talking about his sporting skills. I’m talking about character. That’s why Rosslyn and I are pleased that this has happened. It’s provided an opportunity to focus on what really matters; namely what kind of boy he’s becoming not how good at sport he’s getting!

4. It’s an opportunity to remember that he’s part of a team. It’s not wrong to want to play at the highest level. He wants to play with the best and pitch himself against the best. But whichever level he ends up playing at, he’ll be part of a team. And that means that he has to play his part. After all, the key thing is not making the team but being part of the team. I think that this is the one thing I want him to learn above all. He needs to do what he can in the team that he’s in and not spend the whole time looking across at the first team game wishing he was there. His team, the seconds, can have a terrific season loving playing together and competing against other teams. And it could be a blast. With the group of boys God has given him to be involved with, he could be a real encouragement and help them become a great team where they’re more than the sun of their parts. That would be a far greater achievement than making the firsts.

Whichever team he ends up in, I’ll be there; supporting him whatever, encouraging him when he’s down, chastising him when he’s lazy and praising him when he’s playing his part.

Aussie Bishop Al Stewart

This year’s London Men’s Convention promises to be a cracker. I ought to confess a vested interest in talking it up. It’s been hugely influential for lots of our guys at church and so, as a local church pastor, I’m a big fan. That’s also why I agreed to be on the organising committee, even though I loathe admin.

There’s lots about this years’ LMC that’s stayed the same; solid meaty Bible exposition, uplifting praise and encouraging fellowship. That’s all there again. In spades. But this year things are also different. We’re meeting in Westminster Chapel not the Albert Hall or the ExCel Centre (which I’m alone in loving). We’ve gone for two conferences in one day to accommodate the numbers. And the price has been reduced to £18. We reckon people are feeling the pinch in these times of austerity. And so we’ve done what we can to make it more affordable. I guess not everyone will be able to find that sort of cash. But we’re hoping that within a congregation the men can sort it out so that no one’s unable to attend.

The subject matter this year is the Christian Man’s daily fight against the opposition we face from the world, the flesh and the devil. We’ve got Australian church planting Bishop Al Stewart, a real favourite from past conventions, to come and address the issues of the world’s lies and our fleshly desires. And we’ve bullied our own convention Chairman, Richard Coekin to speak about the contentious issue of satanic opposition. I’ve heard Richard on this subject before and his material was brilliant. It promises to be a great time.

You can find the flyer by following this link. Or check out the website.

In promoting the LMC at our evening congregation on Sunday, I said that we should consider going for three reasons

1. Go for yourself. We need help with this, don’t we? The battle against the worldly influence of peer pressure, the sinful desires of our hearts and the satanic opposition that hides behind them is unbelievably wearying. We need help for the fight. Some of us are casualties and we need mending. This convention is meant to help.

2. Go for your mates. They need our encouragement, support and accountability. I have every confidence that the talks will be great. But it’s the conversations afterwards, between people who know each other well, that often make the difference. With mates from church we can talk openly and honestly about the implications of what we’ve heard. And we can pray together, where we sit. And we can resolve to help one another pursue godliness. The effect of the convention ought to be felt long after it’s finished. Men who’ve travelled up together and returned home after a meal and a drink together can take what they’ve learnt back into their families, friendships, churches and workplaces.

3. Go for your church. The health of our churches depends on the existence and participation of godly men. Of course the women are significant, but you need godly guys busy in personal ministry throughout the congregation. Our Sunday School kids need godly male role models apart from their Fathers. Our young men in small group Bible studies need godly role models. Our unbelieving lads on Christianity Explored need godly role models. And so it goes on. This convention ought to help us begin to address the issue and think about the resources God has given us in the gospel to mature as Christian men and fight the good fight together.

Apparently Tesco has dropped its financial support of the mainstream charity ‘Cancer Research’ to become the headline sponsor of the London Gay Pride Festival. That’s an interesting call. One with a faint whiff of the ‘political’ about it.

The Christian Institute reported on this development on 15th November. They wrote this,

The supermarket giant has supported Cancer Research for more than a decade, helping the charity raise hundreds of millions of pounds towards combating the illness – estimated to affect one in three of the population.

But now the retail chain has signed a deal to become a major sponsor of Pride London, and will host the festival’s family area for the second year running. The family area will provide entertainment and activities for younger children.

The situation became increasingly heated when Nick Lansley, the Head of Research and Development at Tesco, posted some inflammatory remarks on his Flickr site. He wrote

‘I’m also campaigning against evil Christians (that’s not all Christians, just bad ones) who think that gay people should not lead happy lives and get married to their same-sex partners’.

At the request of Tesco, those comments have since been withdrawn. On 23rd December, the Christian Institute then reported that Tesco were re-considering their support of Gay Pride. A couple of days ago, in a needlessly provocatively piece in the Guardian, Martin Prendergast responded. He said that the idea that Tesco was about to repent was unfounded propaganda.

[To my mind, Prendergast's article is unbelievably irritating. It's laden with hopelessly inaccurate and jaundiced presentations of the Christian position. Just calling someone a fundamentalist, a bigot or homophobic doesn't mean that they are. He shouldn't be allowed to get away with such sloppy journalism, let alone the misrepresentation of the carefully articulated historic biblical position. But perhaps that's a rant for another post!]

Upon reaching his decision, my holiday host wrote this on the Tesco Facebook wall,

‘Sadly I will not be shopping at Tesco anymore; not when one of its senior staff, Nick Lansley, describes Christians as evil. If this becomes widely known, I would imagine it would put most Christians off from shopping at Tesco’s’.

Six minutes later this response was posted,

‘Hi (his name), This is a personal view and in no way of reflects the views and opinions of Tesco. Regards, Kaz – Customer Care’.

There were then some less conciliatory responses that were posted; mostly rude. None came from Tesco!

I applaud Tesco’s decision to distance themselves from Nick Lansley’s comments. And yet, it remains an odd decision for a mainstream retailer to give up supporting a charity and start funding an organisation that promotes homosexuality as a legitimate lifestyle. They’re not naive. They knew what they were doing. So what to do?

I don’t have to shop at Tesco. We often do. But will we continue? I’m not sure, but I suspect not. There are alternatives. And if it’s good enough for Jamie, it’s good enough for me! So, awaiting Tesco’s repentance, it’s fair to say that we shall have a few more orange plastic bags in the Perkins’ under stairs cupboard.

The simple reason I’m going to stop shopping at Tesco is that I don’t support the LGBT agenda to redefine marriage. Marriage is marriage. It’s the union of a man and woman in an (ideally) permanent monogamous public relationship. A gay relationship isn’t marriage. It’s a gay relationship. It may be loving. It may be monogamous. It may be permanent. It’s just not marriage. It’s not homophobic to say so. I’m not irrationally fearful of people who face same sex attraction. I don’t even have a rational fear of homosexual people. I just think Tesco should be using their profits to lend their support to a charity like Cancer Research rather than promoting the homosexual political agenda.

I’ve asked myself what I hope to achieve by any boycott and whether it would make any difference. I don’t think that Tesco will change their policy simply because I’ve stopped shopping. We have a large family and a healthy appetite, we like the finer things in life but we don’t spend that much! Nor indeed will the letter I plan to write make that much of a difference. But if every Christian thought like that we shouldn’t expect anything to change. So I’m going to do something and not nothing. But I really don’t want to. It’s costly. I adore their beef, stilton and chutney sandwiches and their Devonshire fudge yoghurt is to die for. But I simply want to register my principled displeasure at the course of action that they’ve taken. I don’t think that they should be using their profits to celebrate a non-Christian lifestyle; one that when practiced habitually leads to exclusion from the Kingdom of God (1 Corinthians 6:9&10). All sin does that, of course. But we tend not to celebrate other sins and play them onside. We call them for what they are; greed or drunkenness or anger and so on. We may be (and often are) immoral in our habits (and therefore in need of salvation by grace) but we at least don’t celebrate them for being immoral! But that’s what our culture is doing with homosexuality. We’re taking something which the Bible describes as immoral and redefining it. As J.I. Packer says ‘we’re sanctifying sin’. And so out of love for homosexual people everywhere we cannot simply go with the flow. All sin is serious. And it doesn’t stop being sin by saying that it isn’t!

So if Christians love people, then they’ll cop the flak for challenging the legitimacy of homosexuality and all sorts of other kingdom incompatible lifestyles. We know that people won’t be saved by avoiding these lifestyles. Jesus does that. But Jesus saves those who, in repentance and faith, repudiate their immoral lifestyles and try to turn from them. We never do so perfectly. But we do so really. I’m a Christian, an imperfect and inconsistent one for sure. But I’m repentant. In dependence upon God I try to turn from sin. The Bible is clear that the homosexual sexual lifestyle is not one that’s compatible with living as a disciple of Christ. It’s a lifestyle that’s to be repented of not celebrated. And so surely I can’t in good conscience support an organisation that redefines sin and seeks to make it mainstream. I know that this will make me hugely unpopular but sometimes it’s best to do what’s right not what’s popular.

So will I post on the Tesco wall? Unlikely. I don’t like getting abuse. Call me gutless if you must. I’m pretty sure I’d invite it without being able to carefully and lengthily explain my rationale! So after you! We’re going to get shot at. It’s going to be, and has been already, interpreted as bigoted and homophobic if we decide to shop elsewhere. Neither of which is true for me or any of the Christians I know. We love sinners (like us). It’s just that we not only believe the Bible, we live by the Bible. And we want to encourage others to live by God’s life giving word as well, so much so that we’re prepared to oppose those who discourage others from taking what it says seriously even if that means that we come across as anachronistic fundamentalists.

I’m not going to tell the congregations of which I’m the Senior Pastor that they have to boycott Tesco. But I’ll probably suggest that they should think seriously about it.

They’re a charitable group made up from a coalition of Christian organisations that includes Premier Christian Media, the Evangelical Alliance, the Church Army and CPO. I’m familiar with some of the names who make up the council of reference. Though we don’t move in the same circles; we may not even be on the same theological page. But I like their work.  They’ve been behind the Christmas promotional campaigns over the past few years. You can see some of their previous work here.

The poster is certainly arresting. It wouldn’t look out of place on the front of the Sunday Times colour supplement. The shepherds are re-cast as cycle couriers. The wise men are entrepreneurial businessmen who bear luxury gifts; a Swarovski crystal perfume bottle, a Faberge egg and a Damien Hirst diamond encrusted skull. Mary looks stunning in a dress by Zara and Joseph cuts a dash in a John Varvatos jacket. The shoes by Church’s is a nice touch!

The poster campaign has provoked some reaction in the blogosphere. The Rev Dr Peter Mullen, writing in his Daily Telegraph blog, really didn’t like it. His main beef seems to be that because the redesigned nativity characters are clad in expensive designer clothing, the church is somehow complicit in the rampant materialism that so often accompanies Christmas. I think he’s missed the point. The intention of the ad is not to say ‘it’s OK to dress Christmas up in designer gear’ but instead ‘given that Christmas is already dressed up in designer gear, let’s not make a further mistake and miss out on the centrality of Christ’. And I don’t say that because I rate my interpretative ability higher than The Rev Dr’s. It’s what the designers of the poster say about their work. The website says

‘It’s the meeting of Christianity and high street consumerism, with Christ in the middle’.

And Francis Goodwin, the Chair and Founder member said this,

‘With recent events, from looting of high-value goods to recession and job losses, and with millions of people heading for shopping centres, there can be no better time to remind people that consumerism and expensive brands are not the point of the festival’.

That’s pretty clear then. We can at least appreciate what the authors were aiming for. And let’s not be unfair. This is a poster for goodness’ sake. What the designers can accomplish is limited by the medium that they’ve chosen. It’s not a sermon where we can qualify everything that we say and round off the edges with nuance and clarification. You’ve only got one hit with a poster. And I think they’ve nailed it.

On her blog, Ruth Gledhill has a fuller analysis and some great quotes from the likes of John Sentamu and others who back the campaign.

As for me, I really like it. It works for me. And it lifts my spirits every time I’ve been passed it since. I’m glad that it’s there. And I’m not alone. Apparently 61% of people liked the campaign poster. And 41% said that it made them think about the true meaning of Christmas. It’s hard not to be pleased with that. I’d be happy if 6 out of 10 punters left my Christmas sermon liking what had been said about Christ and 4 out of 10 prepared to think further.

But I like it for other reasons. I like the fact that the gifts are lavish and luxurious. It befits someone who’s worthy of extravagant displays of adoration and affection. I like that Jesus is unseen; untarnished by the consumerism. I like it that Jesus is centre stage; the focal point of the action. I like it that everyone at the scene is captivated by who he is.

I just hope that in amongst the materialism that accompanies my Christmas, I can keep my eyes as firmly fixed on my Saviour as I will on my presents.

1. It was great to catch up with the Judkins

It was wonderful to discover more than I ever would through conversations with them on the phone and a careful reading of the prayer letter. Just being there gave us lots of relaxed opportunities to talk. It was especially useful to be able to reflect on the implications of Paul’s teaching in 1 Corinthians for their own context, as we worked through the letter in my talks. But just by being there, I got to see things for myself. It’ll provide colour to my understanding of their prayer requests. I saw where they lived. I saw where they worked. I met the people they work with. I saw where Keziah went to school. I saw where they go to church. I appreciated how little there is to do there. I experienced what their life looks like. And we got to talk that through. I think that they think I get it more now. I do. And that’s a good thing.

I came away wondering whether we could encourage more of our own people at CCB to go and see Pete and Claire-Lise. I haven’t hidden from anyone the costs and hassles involved in going. But it would be hugely appreciated. But if we can’t, and I understand that for most of our crowd at CCB that’ll be impossible, we can take seriously the responsibility that we have to keep them in our prayers and to keep in contact.

2. It was hugely challenging to spend time with the missionary team.

They’re a lovely collection of godly families and singles from over Europe. There are representatives from France, Belgium, Ireland and England. And they get on very well. There are Doctors and Nurses. Not all of them are on the medical staff of the hospital. But they’re united by a common desire to serve the Lord in Mandritsara. That was characterised by three things.

1. There’s a real sense of ‘team’ among them. It’s clear that Dr David Mann is the leader. But amongst those who look to him for direction and care, there’s a determination to encourage and support one another.
2. They determinedly maintain their gospel priorities. The medical needs are real and serious. But they share a common conviction that they need not only deal with the physical but with the spiritual as well. Perhaps it helps knowing that the life expectancy is so short that medically they’re only patching people up for a few more years? But they maintain a single-minded determination to serve the gospel.
3. They’ve embraced a level of self-sacrifice that gives credibility to their ministry. Some people go on mission because it means that they can end up serving the Lord somewhere nice. This isn’t it.

I did wonder whether that’s something that we could make more of at CCB. Our church ought to think of itself as a missionary team united in our desire to serve the Lord in Balham. If we did that, I wonder whether we might operate more as a team, whetehr we might not be distracted from gospel priorities and might be willing to give up more for Christ and his cause.

3. It was a privilege to be able to teach them God’s word

Starved of the kind of expository ministry with which many of us are familiar, the missionaries had a real appetite for God’s word (even substandard preaching like mine!). But it was humbling and encouraging. Many of the team confessed to struggling with not hearing good quality expository preaching on a regular basis. They go to a church where the entire meeting is understandably in Malagasy. They’re getting more proficient in understanding and speaking the language. But it’s still a big stretch for them. And the quality of the biblical exposition is mixed. As with all churches, some preachers are more experienced and have greater expertise than others. Some of the team supplement what they get by listening to talks on CDs. They can’t download them because the internet speed is too slow but friends send them out.

I did wonder whether we appreciate the quality of biblical exposition that we get from our own pastors. They may not be world beaters. Few are. And those that are we tend to download because they’re exceptional! But for many of us, our own pastor is a faithful minister of God’s word. And God will reward him for being trustworthy with the gospel (1 Corinthians 4:1-5). Some of the missionary team would say that many of us may not appreciate how good God has been to us in giving us sound, able and faithful teachers. They really miss what we often find a little uninspiring or ordinary. They’d give anything to be hearing an ordinary sermon on a regular basis. Let’s not neglect the kindness of God in feeding us through His word, even through average preaching!

4. It was wonderful to witness God at work in His world

The poverty and chaotic shambles of Madagascar could easily lead us to assume that this is a God-forsaken country. But nothing could be further from the truth. This is a country in which God is calling people to Himself and maturing them through His church. And though it’s hard and slow work, it’s very exciting.

Things seem to be going slowly in the UK. But I do wonder whether that’s down to our lack of appetite for the Lord. We can fool ourselves into thinking that satisfaction can be found in so many other places. Ultimately none of those things really fulfils but they satisfy our appetite for a while. Life is stripped back to the basics in Madagascar, as in many other woefully poor places. There is no entertainment. Life consists in working to live. Life is a constant struggle simply to exist; whether you’re a rural subsistence farmer or an urban worker. Life is hard. There are few alternative sources of fulfilment and satisfaction. Of course, the Malagasy people are still idolaters. But perhaps they have fewer idols. And their idols tend to promise liberation from the world rather than liberation in the world. And so they’re open to the other world; the existence beyond the grave. I came away from Madagascar thinking that they really have very little to live for except life itself. But the gospel makes it clear that there is something to live for outside of ourselves and that seems to be hugely appealing to Malagasy people. Perhaps that’s why many are reaching out and finding that God is not far from them.

Can’t remember whether I’ve posted this before. But my good friend Phil Allcock, the pastor at Clapham Central Church, forwarded the link to me yesterday. I’ll take the risk and put it up anyway. It’s good enough to warrant a second look.

The point of the wordle, and Tim Keller’s comments? The Bible’s not about you. It’s about Jesus!

I know nothing at all about the current student scene. Students aren’t a massive part of our gospel ministry at Christ Church Balham. Most of the Christian students St George’s Hospital go to St Nicholas’ Church, Tooting, Shofar (a South African Charismatic Church on campus) or their own home church if they live with their parents in London. We have a few. They’re terrific. And we’d happily welcome more. But it’s not what God has us doing at the moment. And so I don’t know a whole load about what’s going on in UCCF. But I agree with Paul, wholeheartedly.

It echoes my own experience. Donkey’s years ago, when I was a freshman student at the University of Warwick, I ventured into the Christian Union. I was a young man, recently converted, sent to university by the Royal Navy and already part of the university rugby team. I was met by a female dominated CU. They were lovely. But they were women, with lots of hair as I remember (it was the early 90s – think Jon Bon Jovi soft perm). I looked around in vain for the blokes and the lads who’d take me under their wing and help me grow. And it’s not like I didn’t need it. Those early months at Uni were a mess. I desperately needed someone to get hold of me and help me put the Christian life together. But there was no one. There was a wonderful UCCF Staff Worker called Jenny Brown. She was great. But she couldn’t disciple me or the other two lads that I’d dragged along with me. It’s what we needed. We were all newly converted or woefully untaught. All three of us had been selected by the Armed Services because we were thought to have leadership potential. That could have been put to good use, one would imagine. But it wasn’t until well into our second year that, in God’s good providence, we stumbled into Saltisford Evangelical church and a godly pastor called Nigel Lee decided to give us some of his precious time. At that point and being recruited for Christian summer camps we started to make progress. From that summer camp, a man named Rupert Mackay travelled up from London to come and read Romans with me. That was some commitment but it was hugely formative in my Christian life. And kept me from making more mistakes than I did. It was that sort of input that we were crying out for. But there was no one to provide it.

It was only when Krish Kandiah (and whatever happened to him?) pitched up and was appointed Student President that things started to change at the Christian Union. He was mature enough in his own Christian faith to be able to disciple his peers. But that was too late for me. I used to look with envy at the personal work ‘done’ with friends at Oxford and Cambridge. They had guys who invested in them, discipled them and trained them for service. It was a missed opportunity at Warwick. There were guys to be trained but there was no one to train them. If Levy’s right (and he tells me he usually is) then a new generation of student work is making the same mistake.

I’ve never really been in a foreign missionary situation and so it was a useful exercise. I’m pretty sure I missed some fairly obvious things out. But as I spent time in Mandritsara I tweaked the diagram and I think my applications became more pertinent to their situation. At least I hope so!

I came home with lots to think over. To be honest, more than they probably did. I found the whole experience of living among the missionary team in a missionary situation hugely challenging. It was the personal sacrifices of the missionaries that most unnerved me. I don’t think that being involved in ministry in Balham comes cost-free. There are sacrifices. But they’re not in the same league. I came away thinking that missionary life in Madagascar is hard. Four features contributed to that.

1. The sense of isolation

You just can’t help feeling that the real action is happening somewhere else. After all, Mandritsara is the middle of nowhere. Could you find it on a map? No one’s heard of it. It’s not a strategic location from which intelligent students will graduate or a place in which exciting young professionals congregate. It takes almost three whole days to get to. There can’t be many places in the world that remote! And so you feel isolated. You know you’re living a real life. But it feels as though you’re biding time until you get back to where the action is. The sense of isolation is not helped by the ability to get onto Facebook. I couldn’t be bothered to update my status or check on anyone elses’. I was enjoying the enforced break. And the download speeds here are shocking. But some of the team go online and use it to keep up with real friends, not just Facebook ones! But that makes you acutely aware that in a parallel universe people are living their lives in a very different way and place to you; your family especially. The missionary team gets on with serving Christ where they are. But they have to remember that they’re using the life that God has given them in a hugely significant way. They may not be at all the Christian conferences that are happening over here. They may not be up to speed on the latest developments in ministry training and church planting and so on. They are isolated from the UK Christian scene. But the Lord will reward them for their faithfulness to His cause.

2. The paucity of education

There isn’t a dinner party that I go to where we don’t end up talking about schools and education. (Were there too many negatives in there?) I think it’s fair to say that I now have a new perspective. I’ll still whinge about education provision in south London. But I’ll caveat it a little better than I have in the past! One of the most heartwarming things about the tour of the town was visiting the Good News School. It’s linked with the Hospital. And it’s top of the Mandritsara League tables. OK, they don’t exist. But it’s quickly established itself as the best education establishment. But this is rural Africa and so you can fill in the bits I’m not saying. But it was wonderful. There was one older primary school aged kid who knew the capital city of every country I could think of. There’s real and substantive education going on. And many of the kids have aspirations to continue their secondary school education in the capital city. It’s clear that the school is helping kids to think beyond the possibilities of being a subsistence farmer. The missionary kids get to go to the best school in Mandritsara, which is terrific. They’re not home schooled, which is great. But they’re the only white faces in the class. They’re learning in a language that’s not theirs. And though the teaching standards are better than anywhere else in town they’re unlikely to be as high as those in the schools around us in Balham. These kids are bearing the cost of their parents’ decision to serve Christ in Madagscar. And that plays on the minds of the families.

3. The frustrations of living

There are things about life in the UK that I no longer take for granted. Things like tarmac roads, hot running water, cold running water, internet access, uninterrupted electrical supplies, tasty food and Radio 4. You ought never to hear me complain about cold wet days ever again. I found the 37 degree heat unrelenting. I haven’t come back with a tan because the fans were inside. My shower was a barrel and a bucket. I didn’t sleep properly all the time I was there. It was just too hot. There are some treats about being there; the sunsets, blue sky, the space, the time, the fruit, the simplicity of living and the companionship of the Malagasy people. It wasn’t all bad. But it’s hot, it’s dusty and it’s dirty. It’s not busy. This is Africa. But it is hard. Life is easier inside the hospital compound than outside, for sure. But nevertheless many of the things that we simply take for granted aren’t available. You can’t go out for a meal in a local restaurant. There aren’t any. It’s dark at six and so the evenings are long (though it is light at 5am). Life is undeniably simply but it’s not easier.

4. The absence of entertainment

One of my old ministry apprentices used to warn us often of the dangers of entertainment. He had a point. He’d love Mandritsara. I didn’t. If I stayed there any longer than the week I was there, I’d get bored. There’s nothing to do. I’m exaggerating to make a point. But there’s not a whole load to do. The team work hard in the hospital. They drop and pick up the kids from school. They eat meals together and meet to study God’s word together. That’s all terrific. But you can’t go swimming. There’s no adventure playground. The nearest Pizza Express is miles away. And the only sporting facility (if you can call it that) is the footy pitch in town. I guess, if you were so minded, you could go mountain biking. You could read a lot. And some of the guys chew up DVD box sets for fun. But they were desperate to get to Ille Ste Marie, just for a break. And that brought home to me how demanding life in the compound is.

And so, it makes you wonder why they put up with it all. Why don’t they just come home? On balance, life is easier here. It’s because of their gospel convictions. They’re utterly persuaded that the Malagasy people will be lost without Christ. And they’re right. And it’s that unshakeable belief that drives their sacrifice. And I’m determined not to let the challenge of their example pass too quickly.