Another use for salt

There are miles of blackberry brambles sprawling across England as weeds. They reach out their thorny branches into sidewalks, hiking trails, beside train tracks, in the back of uncultivated lots and properties.

As a fruit and berry lover, discovering thickets of blackberries all around where I live and stroll has become a huge delight. Late summer last year and this year I've been discovering the branches loaded with dark, juicy blackberries just growing wild! Having seen the prices for blackberries in the store, I have become all about picking them for FREE at the park or behind the college where I live.

Last year, when I first discovered there were blackberries everywhere for the picking, I picked cups and cups of them.

Having never picked wild blackberries before, I didn't know about the worms.

I had this plan to make blackberry curd, a type of creamy jam, with my precious, ripe -- and FREE -- blackberries. I ordered cheesecloth so I could strain out the little seeds, and while I waited for it to be delivered, I froze the blackberries.

After the cheesecloth arrived, I pulled the clear plastic container from the freezer to defrost my berries.

The interior of the plastic box was covered with tiny, frozen worms!

I was horrified! There had been worms in my blackberries?!? They looked fine when I had rinsed them off.

I threw them away.

I approached the blackberry harvest this year with sad caution, but when they started to be ripe, I went ahead and picked a container full. Then I came home and examined them carefully and up close under a bright light. They seemed fine. They were beautiful, dark, and juicy. Perfect on the outside! I rinsed them and did not see any insects or worms. So I put them in the refrigerator to enjoy with my yogurt the next morning.

This morning, I took the lid off the blackberries -- to discover two of those tiny worms crawling on the lid.

I went to the Internet to find out where these little worms are coming from and what they are. It turns out that these almost microscopic worms are actually fruit fly larvae. The eggs are laid inside the ripening berries --inside the tiny, juicy little globes. Once the eggs hatch, the little larvae begin to crawl out.

The way to get rid of them, the article said, is to soak the blackberries in saltwater. The saltwater forces the larvae out from the berries where they die in the salty solution, freeing the blackberries from the (harmless) infestation.

So I mixed up a solution of saltwater and poured it over the berries.

Almost instantly, I could see tiny white heads emerging from the berries, squirming and pushing their way out. Once out of the berries, they writhed on the bottom of the container, drowning in the toxic saltwater. I'm not sure if this video will play here, but I tried to record the tiny white larvae emerging from the fruit. If you look very closely you can see the movement of the worm coming out.

This scene brought to mind the scripture in Matthew 5:13-16, when Jesus tells his followers: “You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled underfoot."

There have been a variety of devotionals and commentaries to interpret and explain the application of this verse based on the contemporary uses of salt during Jesus' time.

The website, gotquestions.org, says, "Salt had two purposes in the Middle East of the first century. Because of the lack of refrigeration, salt was used to preserve food, especially meat which would quickly spoil in the desert environment. Believers in Christ are preservatives to the world, preserving it from the evil inherent in the society of ungodly men whose unredeemed natures are corrupted by sin."

It goes on to add, "Second, salt was used then, as now, as a flavor enhancer. In the same way that salt enhances the flavor of the food it seasons, the followers of Christ stand out as those who 'enhance' the flavor of life in this world. Christians, living under the guidance of the Holy Spirit and in obedience to Christ, will inevitably influence the world for good, as salt has a positive influence on the flavor of the food it seasons. Where there is strife, we are to be peacemakers; where there is sorrow, we are to be the ministers of Christ, binding up wounds, and where there is hatred, we are to exemplify the love of God in Christ, returning good for evil."

(https://www.gotquestions.org/salt-and-light.html)

Today, I found a third application for salt: To force to the surface hidden infestations and to kill them, purifying a contaminated product.

In other words, like the berries, some of us might look good on the outside: we say the right things, display the appropriate attitudes, know the approved actions to take in any given situation. But on the inside, we may suffer from a hidden infestation of sin and corruption that even we are unaware of.

The salt of the scripture, the Holy Spirit, and of the community of Christ can help us to push those hidden sins and corruptions to the surface of our awareness so that the Holy Spirit can then help us to purify ourselves from them as we allow God to remove them from our lives.

Understanding and grace for our own cultures

There is a great deal written and discussed in the missionary community about cross-cultural conflict, and about the effort needed to more deeply understand people in other cultures, and to extend grace and be humble where understanding is still lacking.

I only wish we had the same compassion, grace and commitment to understand each other in our own cultures.

After 8 years of living in cultural contexts other than the one where I grew up, I've noticed that I am much more prepared and consciously intentional about trying to give grace, have patience and strive to better understand the people of the culture I live in than I am with people from my own country and culture. I've seen the same in others from my country, as well.

Why do we offer less grace and compassion to people from our own cultures than we do to people of other cultures? Why do we have so little desire to understand the peoples from our own nations who think and live differently than we do?

I've started reading the book Cross-Cultural Conflict, by Duane Elmer, and almost everything I have read so far pertains no differently to my interactions with people of my own culture than to my interactions with people of a different culture.

When I think about the polarized political climate at home, in which many people from each political camp suspect the worst of those they disagree with, treating them with contempt and derision rather than a humble desire to understand why they believe what they believe, I find that the passages of this book have direct application. I feel convicted in myself.

In a way, we could imagine that people with different political beliefs are actually people from different cultures -- because in a lot of ways, they are. When we take that approach, we can more easily develop the mindset of realizing that we simply may not understand why the other thinks or lives the way they do, and that making an effort to understand them will bring greater peace, reconciliation and the ability to work together -- rather than against one another -- to find solutions and implement them effectively.

Here are some great passages from Elmer's book that I read through a lens of applying to my own culture, particularly the political climate and disagreements:

"I learned it is unwise to make quick judgments about people's motives and character. It takes time, conversations, questions, listening and the whole range of learning skills to form accurate perceptions about people who are different from me. I must suspend judgment, maintain an open mind and seek more information (especially from those people I am prone to judge) before drawing conclusions. If I am too quick to judge or draw a conclusion, my mind closes, learning stops, and the potential for building a relationship is lost. My assessment of others must be a conscious, intentional process, or I am likely to slip into my old habits and to do an injustice to people whom Christ loves and for whom he died." (17)

"To celebrate creation is to celebrate diversity, including diversities of people (including diversity of viewpoints -- my comment). And we cannot celebrate out of ignorance. Genuine celebration comes from genuine appreciation. This requires learning and understanding, and these are incompatible with egocentrism and superiority." (13)

"We are called to love all people. But can I truly love someone I do not, at least in some measure, understand? Love requires some understanding of its object...." (13)

"A measure of security comes when I know which 'box' a person fits into, because then I know how to treat him or her. I do not need to get acquainted with the person before I judge him or her. At that point I have begun to treat people like objects and no longer see each one as a unique, esteemed human being designed by God and worthy of my individualized and respectful attention." (19)

"The interpretation we provide virtually always attributes a negative characteristic and motivation to the other person. We rarely give people the benefit of the doubt when they do something we don't understand.... Westerners are especially quick to attach some deficiency to the other person whenever confusion arises. You can easily see how this creates conflict when there was none, or aggravates minor conflicts into major ones." (20)

How much conflict, hostility and gridlock would be brought to peace and reconciliation if we all would internalize the ideas presented here, and begin to intentionally approach with more grace, humility and understanding those people in our own nations and cultures who are different from us in political viewpoints, economic statuses (I'm including the rich or successful people who are often treated with contempt, suspicion or objectification), or regional areas of our own nations. What if we worked harder to give grace and seek to more deeply understand our co-laborers in ministry, our neighbors, family members and friends?

"Avoid the cycle altogether. Learn to put on that other set of lenses. It takes patience, but it's not hard to do." (17)

The trolley: A story of cultural ignorance

This is my "shopping trolley."

It's one of my best friends. That is because we do not have a car here in Manchester, so when I buy groceries, I need to do so on foot. I also need to haul them a 10-minute walk back to our apartment and up two sets of stairs.

Having this trolley with wheels means I can carry a bit more in weight without hurting my arms or shoulders. Without it, the walk back home would be pretty miserable.

I noticed these trolleys for sale at various household supply shops when we arrived, and I saw a few people coming and going from grocery stores with them. It seemed like a genius idea. So immediately I went out and got one for myself.

For months, I was running back and forth to the store with my lovely little wheeled shopping bag, usually with an additional lighter bag on one shoulder.

One day, as I approached the college with my haul of groceries, one of the faculty passed me on his bicycle on his way home. He grinned, slowed down and said, "How cute! You remind me of my grandmother with your little shopping trolley."

I wasn't sure why it was his grandmother he specifically thought of. But we both laughed and went on our way.

A week or two later, the scene repeated itself, but this time with another faculty member -- an American -- who was coming toward me on foot. His grin was mischievous when he said, "You know that only old ladies use those shopping carts, right?" As an American who had lived here for years, he already knew something I didn't know, and took great pleasure in teasing me about it.

I didn't quite believe him, though. It seemed ridiculous that people of all ages who walk to the store wouldn't use these convenient and inexpensive devices to make transporting groceries much easier.

Later, I spent some time with a friend who had once lived in the UK for five years. I wanted her to take my side, to bolster my belief from her own experience as a foreigner that she and plenty of other young adults use shopping trolleys. So I broached the subject with her one day.

"Hey, you know those rolling shopping carts you can get, so you don't have to carry groceries home from the store?" I asked her.

"Oh yeah, the ones old ladies use?"

*Face-palm.*

I thought back to the people I'd seen using them, and couldn't remember who they were. But now that I was paying attention, I didn't exactly remember seeing a lot of healthy, robust young people rolling them around.

But, why? I wondered. They're so convenient and make shopping so much easier!

No one can give me an answer. It seems to be one of those cultural things that as an outsider I failed to anticipate or notice, and which has no logical explanation when one stops to think or ask about it. I wondered how many other people were smiling or smirking at me all those times I jauntily rolled the cart to and from the grocery store, being decidedly NOT an "old lady."

Since it seems that my mistake is only a little personally humiliating, and not a serious cultural taboo, I've decided I don't care if I do look like a little old lady. No way am I going to haul liters of milk and water and heavy cans of vegetables from bags on both shoulders all the way home every time I stock up on food.

And I still have a suspicion that somewhere, there must be clever younger people who refuse to conform to societal taboos and are making use of shopping trolleys when they don't have a car.

Developing communications in India

While visiting the north Indian slums of Patiala one day, to minister to the impoverished garbage pickers who live there, Mrs. Sulochana Singh saw something that broke her heart: a small baby girl lying on a cot with thousands of bees swarming over her nearly lifeless, skeletal body.

That baby was malnourished to the point of near death, infected by many oozing bedsores. Sulochana watched as the child struggled to take her last breaths.

Sulochana had compassion on the child and wanted to do something for her. At the same time, she also recognized that it wasn't her business, and worried about whether to interfere. But at that moment, Sulochana says, "I heard a soft voice inside me saying, ‘What would you have done if she was your own baby?’ That voice touched me and I told my husband about the voice and got his consent to help the child."

Sulochana and her husband, Pastor Akash Singh, found the baby’s parents and talked with them to find out why was the baby left out on the cot like this. They learned that the baby was weak, and the doctors had given up hope for her, telling the parents that she would die. So the parents, not knowing what else they could do, had left the baby on the cot to die and had prepared a grave for her.

But Sulochana was persistent and asked if she and her husband could try to treat the baby in a government hospital. The father agreed. He went with Sulochana and Akash to take the baby to the children’s ward of the government hospital. There they met with more disappointment. A doctor told them that because the baby was about to die, they couldn’t admit her for any treatment.

Sulochana told the doctor that she and Akash run a charitable organization called Grace Seva Smitee (Grace Service Committee) and it was through that organization they had come on behalf of the child. They pled with him to admit her to the hospital.

The doctor’s attitude changed. He decided to take a chance on the little girl. He called his team and started treatment. With some oxygen, she immediately began to improve.

Then, the baby suddenly stopped breathing. The staff said she had probably died. Unwilling to give up, Sulochana and Akash went outside, knelt down and interceded to the Lord for the baby’s life. Even before they finished their prayer with “Amen,” someone came out and told them the baby had begun breathing again. They rushed back into the hospital room where doctors said they were going to run some tests and that they were optimistic for the baby’s life.

After all the tests, the baby was treated there for 25 days. Sulochana and Akash were at her side day and night, doing everything they could, along with praying continually for her. During the day, Akash stayed with the baby, and Sulochana stayed overnight.

"On the third day of the treatment the baby opened her eyes and looked at me and smiled,” Sulochana recalled. “I went close to her, and in spite of having no strength in her hands, she still hugged me very tight and I told her, ‘Jesus loves you.’ The baby was almost a skeleton, and when she hugged me I could feel her bones. All her body pus got stuck to my dress. At that moment I felt that the Lord has given this baby to me. I praised God for a new life to the baby."

After the little girl’s recovery, Sulochana talked with her husband and also with the father about the child’s future. If he was unable to care for her, would he be willing for Sulochana and Akash to raise her?

"We had already dug a grave for her in front of our house and had left the baby on the cot to die,” the father replied. “She was not eating anything and there was no hope for her. But you came in that time and the Lord has saved the baby through you. If we take the baby back, she would not survive. We have already decided to give the baby to you. You keep her."

Sulochana and Akash were overjoyed with this blessing. Doctors and the medical team instructed them how to take good care of the girl.

Slowly, the child’s health improved. She ate and digested well. Very soon, the girl became very healthy, put on weight.

Over the next four years, she started learning words, and began calling the pastor and his wife “Mom” and “Dad.” She attended church with them where she learned about God, and singing small songs.

Sulochana says, “We had two sons (Enosh, 18 and Phillip, 17) and now the Lord had blessed us with a daughter."

Now that baby is four years old. Sulochana and Akash say, "We love the baby very much. We have named her Angel. We want to see this baby becoming very educated and do great work for the Lord."

She will be attending school this coming November.

*******

The story you just read is a sneak peek at one of the many stories I am now receiving from our new communications team in India.

Some of you will know that last fall, I sent a Dutch volunteer to India for 3 months, to provide training and help organize a communications team there. It has been a long-time dream; we have been talking about it or working on it off and on for years.

At the same time, our church leader in India was able to find someone to take the role of India communications coordinator -- Rev. Rajiv Yangad.

I first met Pastor Rajiv back in 2013, when I visited to provide two storytelling trainings in the country. Pastor Rajiv specifically wanted us to give one of these trainings to people on his district in Central Maharashtra, because he intuitively recognized its importance.

Pastor Rajiv is passionate about photography, storytelling, video, writing and even creating websites. He has been developing his skills in these areas for years as a personal interest, next to his leadership for our churches in Central Maharashtra.

Since he took responsibility for communication ministry in India, and since Frank, the volunteer from the Netherlands, gave three months of his time to travel around with Pastor Rajiv and carry out four trainings in four different parts of the country, there has been a sudden flood of amazing stories from our churches in India!

I have been thrilled to see the beautiful, powerful and well-developed stories that trainees are writing.

Last week, Pastor Rajiv forwarded to me the first video filmed and edited by someone who was at the training. Pastor Rajiv is also working hard on creating a professional and modern Nazarene website for our church in India. And he is helping to develop a strategy for helping our churches in India communicate more effectively with one another.

You can read a couple more of them here:

http://www.eurasiaregion.org/today-you-are-a-new-creation-a-redemption-story/

http://www.eurasiaregion.org/the-last-shall-be-first-sudhirs-story/

An Unexpected Journey

As I sat on the unfamiliar bus, in an unfamiliar part of Manchester, and realized the bus was carrying me the opposite direction I wished to go (home) and I really had no idea where it would end up, I reflected on how there are just those days when nothing goes according to plan.

I was in this part of the city because my doctor had ordered some annual health checkup tests that had to be done at a hospital over here. However, the hospital is not in an area that I ever visit otherwise. The day before, I explored Google maps to figure out which bus I should take to get there. Yesterday morning, I left the house at 7:20 to walk to the bus stop where I caught said bus at 7:45.

The tests, but most of all the waiting in between, took longer than I expected. I ended up being at the hospital until 12:10. During one of the long periods of waiting, I had used my phone to look up the bus schedule going back. It seemed that the bus route I'd used to get here was incredibly infrequent. The next bus was at 12:15. Then there were many hours before it would come by again. There were other buses I could take, but I'd purchased a day pass on the bus that morning and it would be wasted if I just had to buy a ticket on another bus company.

So the second they gave me the all clear I tore out of the building and ran down the road. As I got closer and saw it was 12:13 on my watch (I was unsure whether that was the same time the bus driver would have), I saw the bus parked at the stand. I forced myself to keep going although I could already hardly breathe (a total of 7 weeks of sickness between Christmas and to the end of February has wrecked my stamina). Thankfully the bus sat there for a few more minutes. I stumbled on board, breathing raggedly and desperately, and showed him my ticket. I felt a flood of relief when I took my seat.

About 20 minutes later, I didn't recognize where we were. I used the google map on my phone to look at the little moving dot that represented me, and watched as it drifted further and further in the opposite direction from my neighborhood. Hmm. That wasn't supposed to happen. I did some more searching online and realized that the bus I'd boarded was completing the loop I started when I first got on that morning, as it headed to the far western outskirts of Manchester.

As a girl raised driving a car in the suburbs, until we moved to Manchester I didn't have much big city experience. While I ride the bus often, I tend to ride familiar buses to the same locations, and don't venture in different directions that will require getting off one bus and perhaps waiting 30 minutes to an hour for the next bus I need. So, it's not too surprising that I got confused and found myself in this situation.

Aside: When we moved to England, we opted not to buy a car, primarily because the costs seemed to be outside our budget anyway, but also to avoid the stress of having to learn to drive on the left in the second largest city in the UK. I've never liked city driving, even when I could drive on the right in my own country. But I've increasingly had moments when I've begun to wish we had our own car. Sitting there, watching unfamiliar neighborhoods float by outside the grimy bus windows, was one of those times.

Back to my present predicament.

Thankfully a little searching on my phone revealed that this bus would eventually turn inward again and come to its final destination at city hall (photo left) in downtown Manchester, an area I know very well.

There was nothing I could do but go with it. So I looked out the window and got a peek at many areas of Manchester I've heard about but never seen myself, such as Sale, Hulme, Old Trafford. Oh look, there's the Emirates Old Trafford cricket field.

I tried to see the adventure in my situation and enjoy seeing parts of the city that were new to me.

About an hour later we entered familiar territory as we approached the busy city center. The bus stopped at town hall and I found my bearings. By now it was about 1:30 and I was hungry. So I cut through Chinatown on my way to the street where I could pick up a bus that would take me directly back home. I stopped in my favorite Chinese restaurant for a bowl of soup while I caught up on my work email via my phone.

My stomach dropped when I got an email from a colleague with whom I had scheduled a video meeting for 1 p.m., She was wondering where I was. I frantically tapped out an apology email and explained the situation and we agreed to reschedule.

Part of Chinatown.

From there I managed to get the correct bus back, and when I reached our neighborhood, I was quite tired, but I stopped in at a rental agency to ask some questions concerning renting an apartment to my two new volunteers who arrive in a few weeks. That errand finally being accomplished, I walked the rest of the way home.

At home, I wanted to catch up on the work I'd missed in the morning, due to my longer than expected appointment and then my unexpected journey.

Unfortunately, the Internet was down! So, I decided I needed a hot cup of coffee to warm up from all that walking in the March temperatures. I'd been fantasizing about coffee the whole afternoon, but hated to spend money to buy one when I knew we had perfectly good coffee at home.

I unscrewed the Italian coffee pot that a friend gave me, intending to fill it with coffee grounds and heat it up on the stove. That's when I was confronted with a horrible truth: I'd forgotten to clean it out the last time I used it ... before Christmas. The entire thing was coated with mold inside all the compartments. I boiled some water, added soap and filled a large mixing bowl where I put all the pieces of the coffee pot to soak. Then I made some coffee in the French press.

I tried to do some email on my phone while I waited for the coffee to steep in the French press. Finally I poured it into a mug and took a sip -- and nearly spit it out. It was lukewarm. I'd thought that I'd boiled the water before I poured it in, but I guess I just filled the kettle, let it sit there, and then poured it into the French press.

I was cold, I was tired, I couldn't get much work done because I was tired and the Internet was down. And I knew I was going to be networking and getting stories at the district assembly in another town on Saturday, so I decided to just view it as a swap and I called a halt to my day. I was too tired even to cook or eat dinner. Thankfully Andrew wasn't hungry either.

About an hour later, a neighbor knocked on our door with homemade oatmeal cookies. She couldn't have known what kind of day I'd had, a day I'd managed to see the humor in as it unfolded, but was still frustrating and exhausting.  It was such an appreciated gesture and the cookies were delicious!

Ultimately, I am thankful that all the scans and tests came back good and clean, and I am glad to know I am healthy, a gift from God I do not take for granted.

And while I was able to enjoy parts of my unexpected journey, I really miss having our own car. :-)

Vulnerability and rejection

When moving to a new culture and a new country, missionaries pack bags with clothes and other items we want to have in our new home. Many of us don't realize that, unintentionally, we also pack invisible bags, carrying our fears, weaknesses, memories.

We arrive in a new land and we unpack our suitcases into our new homes. We are unaware that we are unpacking our psychological baggage, too.

A lot of people imagine that the hardest thing about living in another culture is adjusting to the culture itself. But after spending eight years in two different cultures other than my own, I am inclined to think the hardest thing is living with your own weaknesses in a new place, without the comforts, securities and support network you had at home. In fact, you may not be as aware of your vulnerabilities until they come into starker focus against a new backdrop.

Since we moved abroad, I have become a great deal more aware of my tendency to anxiety. One of the clues was when, after a move, I found myself staying home a lot, avoiding people, afraid of the social missteps and etiquette mistakes that I would inevitably make as I learned my way around the new culture. Many times, after an interaction, I would lay awake that night worrying endlessly about the confusing body language or the certainty I had offended by something I either said or failed to say.

As I've reflected on the reasons for such anxiety, I've concluded that it comes down to increased vulnerability. To be a missionary is to live in a greater level of vulnerability: to rejection and disapproval of others, and to the enemy, who will always oppose us when we step out in obedience to God's call.

Fear of rejection
At home, we have friends and family who are familiar and love us unconditionally. This helps us feel more confident and secure.

But, in any new place -- and especially in a new culture -- you WILL make more mistakes. You must rely on the grace and forgiveness of your new friends and acquaintances to overlook them and help you learn. This leaves you vulnerable to the possibility of rejection or disapproval.

I don't think anybody easily accepts rejection or feeling vulnerable. You are a pretty rare human, indeed, if you don't have some desire not to be rejected. But for someone with a tendency toward anxiety, this creates the perfect opportunity for the enemy to exploit a weakness. The enemy can stoke the embers of worries and concerns to a raging fire that becomes debilitating when trying to interact with new people while learning the steps of new social dances.

Fear is the root of anxiety. When I fear making cultural mistakes that might offend the very people to whom I want to be a blessing, at a deeper level it can be about fearing rejection, or losing the approval of the other. Such a fear is caused when the focus on myself is greater than my focus on serving and loving the other.

So, what does a missionary (or any believer) do when she is afraid of rejection? A missionary/believer has a choice to make: To try and protect herself from being vulnerable to rejection, or to embrace that vulnerability -- and that possibility. She must look to the God she has followed to this new place and learn His attitude about rejection.

The God who became vulnerable
That one's easy. God -- as Jesus, in the power of the Holy Spirit -- loved us so much that He made Himself vulnerable by becoming a weak human to walk among us. He became God "with skin on" so that He could invite us into a loving, mutual relationship with Him. And what happened when He did that?

In the very fact that God does not force us to accept His invitation, He gives us the choice to say no; to walk away from Him. When we make that choice, we reject Him. And God is hurt. He suffers when we reject Him.

Somehow, the God who created all of the universe, from the largest spinning galaxy to the invisibly microscopic electron, made Himself vulnerable to human rejection -- a rejection that culminated in the murder of the God-man, Jesus, at the hands of His own creation.

Talk about rejection!

And yet, the invitation has been continuous since creation. God continues to issue this invitation to each person, opening Himself to and experiencing the agonizing pain of rejection billions of times over.

In light of this example, how could I continue to try and protect myself from rejection by withdrawing from or avoiding interactions and the uncertainty of new friendships in a new place?

His power is perfect in my weakness
Yes, I will make mistakes. I will unintentionally offend. I will get tired and stressed out and say or do the wrong thing in a moment of exasperation. I will be weak and vulnerable, because the power is in the hands of the other to decide whether or not to forgive and overlook; whether or not to extend grace.

Paul writes: "But [God] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me" (2 Cor. 12:9).

I love this verse. It means we can embrace rather than fear this sense of weakness and vulnerability. God promises that our weakness is the perfect context in which His power and grace flourishes. We learn to depend more on God in each vulnerable circumstance.

It seems an appropriate Christmas reflection to remember that God was born in the form of a weak and vulnerable child, and grew up to become a man who was rejected by the very people He tried to reach. This rejection went as far as murder. Yet, that was not the end. Jesus was raised, and death did not defeat or diminish His love and mercy. He continues to reach out to us every day. We can spurn this and reject Him, or we can accept this amazing invitation.

Part of following such a God, wherever we are, is living a life of vulnerability with the possibility of rejection. But it's not about us. It's about sharing Christ with others, even if they reject us -- and Him.

"That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10).

What does my PhD have to do with mission?

Academic Research and Mission

Now that it's the end of my third year of PhD work, I am seeing a little bit of light at the end of the tunnel. My research is developing very well in terms of making what I believe is a solid contribution to knowledge. I'm in the process of arguing for three 'doctrines of power', or general assumptions, guiding Constantine's use of imperial power in the internal church affairs of schism and heresy. My method for engaging with this question is to analyse specific language patterns in the surviving letters of Constantine concerning his involvement with the churches in order to more clearly define how and why the emperor did what he did in relation to divisions among Christians. 

What does it have to do with mission work in general, or our experiences over the past several years as many of you have followed, supported, and prayed for us? 

Statue of Constantine, York Minster (UK)

The reign of the Roman emperor Constantine is generally remembered by many modern Christians as a 'marriage of church and state' and, for some, this even involves a 'fall of the church'. I believe these assumptions are inaccurate historically, and potentially harmful in terms of faith and theology. One basic question I frequently ask is: if the Gospel is indeed for all people, then must it not embrace a Constantine just as surely as the poor and powerless? 

Aside from that, I think of the following: 

• Our churches and individual missionaries must work within a variety of political systems, not all of which allow for some of the freedoms of a truly democratic nation. We must both obey the law, and pursue God's mission; that requires knowledge and wisdom. The right, ethical, and legal thing to do is not always so clear in every case: how do we as Christians in different nations and systems operate both faithfully and in respect of the rule of law?
  
• The 'separation of church and state' as it developed in the United States is quite distinct from the 'state church' system found in Europe and the UK. Other areas exist where there is not the same distinction between categories of 'political' and 'religious' at all. It's important to understand this context wherever we find ourselves serving.
  
• Our churches in Western countries find themselves very divided over political ideology. Those on either 'side' politically frequently wonder out loud how someone can be a Christian and support Brexit, or Hillary Clinton, higher taxes, or cutting programs for the poor. Division is what happens when some kind of idol replaces right worship. But when people can't agree, should they be made to? Should legislation enforce morality? To what extent should Christians be politically active?

Those are just some of the things my research continually brings up in my mind, even while not all of them will be directly engaged in the final product.

Over this next year, I will soon (Lord-willing and brain/energy-permitting) complete a first draft of the entire thesis as well as undergo the revision process before final submission. My deadline is 31 October 2018, after which there will be an oral defense (called a 'viva' here). There will likely be a further period of making any requested revisions or corrections as a result of that examination. Graduation itself will follow in October 2019.

There is a lot of work left, but I sense that it has begun to 'wrap up'. I've learned so much more than will ever be written in 80,000 words. I've also learned that there's so much MORE to learn, and I'm truly excited about pursuing further study and research in the future. 

An Average Day for Andrew

But studying is far from all I'm doing.

Last year, largely due to a heavy load of responsibilities related to being a Resident Assistant in the dorm, I did not have the time to accept a couple of teaching opportunities.

This term, however, I am able to make up for some of that loss. I have served throughout my time in Manchester as the Postgraduate Assistant in Church History and Theology. It's basically what you'd call a 'teaching assistant', and I work with two different lecturers. There has been some 'grunt work' involved, such as scanning or photocopying assigned readings and organizing several lists of books ordered by both departments. But there are also some more enjoyable opportunities, like grading exams or essays and teaching in the classroom for a session or two. 

I've actually been quite busy as postgrad assistant this semester. I've even enjoyed some of the 'grunt work' as it has allowed me an occasional break from the rigors of research and writing. At the end of October, I taught a session on the Council of Nicaea (A.D. 325) from a theological perspective in a course called Christian Doctrines. In mid-November, I taught a further class session on Constantine, the Council of Nicaea, and 'Church/State Issues' from a historical viewpoint in a class called The Early Church. I've also led a small discussion group each Tuesday morning as part of an Intro to Theology class, which probably deserves a separate entry on its own to tell you about. Stay tuned on that one.

Through parts of the Christmas holiday, I will be grading essays and exams in Early Church while 'moderating' work in Christian Doctrines. 'Moderating' basically means that someone serves as an impartial second set of eyes to ensure that the actual grading (or 'marking' as it's called here) is fair and aligns with the course objectives outlined in the syllabus. 

These are some of the responsibilities of a PhD student aside from research and writing for the thesis. In fact, it often feels like work on my thesis happens in my spare time! There are conferences and seminars to attend, papers to write either for presentation or publication, revising everything that gets written down at least 3-4 times (chapters get revised about 20 times before I even hand them in!), occasional meetings with my advisor(s), keeping up with current trends related to my area of research (more reading), keeping up with language study as much as possible, and then doing what can be done as far as gaining valuable work experience (serving as postgrad assistant, for example). 

There is even more to it than that (such as the extensive preparation involved with teaching a single session!), but there's no need to go into excruciating detail. Your prayers are certainly asked for and appreciated as I re-double my efforts to finish with excellence and in a timely manner, while balancing it with supporting Gina, getting enough rest and maintaining my health, and enjoying a few good friendships. -- Andrew