Multiply Zambia - 2014

It's three years since Iain and I went to Stephen's church in Zambia's Kitwe for the last International conference.  In the time between, we've raised our game and introduced practical projects and added a younger group to such team visits.  The coming February/March trip boasts Len's wife Ali joining us to launch a literacy project, Hannah - who works in Multiply central office - to help with the orphanage and school, and James - church video guru - to document the whole experience and convey some of the rationale for those who 'still don't get it'. 

The itinerary for those of us conference-hopping (me, Len, Stephen) is pretty punishing: Kitwe, Lusaka, then Lilongwe in Malawi, and a return to Dar es Salaam in Tanzania.  I shall add a couple of days with Gregory in Nairobi. 

The vital need at this stage is to get a broadband connection installed at Stephen's ministry premises.  It's got to be satellite, thus leapfrogging copper wire, fibre optic and mobile cell technology in one go!  Huw's promised that Multiply Fund will underwrite whatever we can't secure by donations of the £5,000 price tag.  James, who works in Group IT, was worried how long it would take to set up the local network.  Then Farayi, a Zambian from Kings Church, Medway, agreed to join us.  His daytime job is also in IT support, so he'll be welcome the sixth member of the team.  While in Malawi, he'll check out Kings Church's own project there.

When Mick arranged his recent Multiply trip to Sierra Leone and Liberia, his team bonding times became legendary.  Whatever involves bacon rolls rapidly gains popularity, so we follow suit - anything less would be mean.  The next one is in a week's time, and by then we need to have the flights booked (awaiting just one confirmation), all jabs up to date, and an estimate on what funds we'll have raised, so we can get consignments sent off in time.

Ali co-ordinates 400 people in Brighton on English language courses and conversation groups.  Since August she's been working on suitable materials and schemes - at three levels - for both teachers and pupils in Zambia.  One of her office team comes from the Copperbelt, and has been encouraging her with advice about eating, dress and culture. 

Hannah held a cake sale after Sunday morning church a couple of weeks ago and raised £240 for the orphanage and school.  Four sisters in Northampton are tackling a sponsored bike ride, and Trevor's selling dvds.  The Brighton saints have done a car-boot sale.

We hope we'll get it right this time in Dar es Salaam.  Two year ago was beset with apostolic irritations as Stephen went down with malaria and we ran out of money.  This time we're assembling Rukundu and Gregory as reinforcements.  It will be great to catch up again with Stephen's brother, Jakob, and Pastor Luvanda from the local fellowship.

There's more on:
facebook.com/fundraisingforZambia
multiply.org.uk/zambia-project

More Songs and St Andrews

The Broomhall Community Choir has made its public debut.  Nothing very exalted, but we've broken the ice.  St Andrews (URC) held an afternoon Christmas party to mark the redecoration of their church hall, and we did a couple of pieces.

Mary's brother Tony, of City of Bath Bach Choir fame, let on that he was due to become a grandfather again.  In conversation, Mary told him how much she was enjoying the choir.  He later emailed that they were tackling James MacMillan's St John's Passion - the first amateur group to do so.  And the composer was making the journey from Glasgow to support the performance.  With this as the backdrop, you'll rate our challenge less impressive!

Choirmaster Steve turned up in a dark suit, resplendent with blood-red shirt and white bow tie.  He'd been a busy man, with a major concert the night before, and one to follow in the evening.  Fellow bass Ian had gone down with a croaky cold, and Worrall Male Voice Choir member David had already given his apologies.  It was down to Terry and me to bang out the "fat" in "Christmas is coming".  Although I'd missed a vital rehearsal, I'd got adequate memories of singing it at a school.  I realised that Terry and I were up against unfamiliar parts. 

Steve gave us a glowing introduction, and a pressing invitation for others to come and join the choir in the New Year.

Now I hang my head in shame.  We started with St Winifred ("Cradled in a manger, meanly").  When Steve brightly proposed 'unaccompanied', he was outvoted.  Furthermore, heads buried into music sheets while he - valiantly conducting with his left hand while playing the four-part harmony with his right, sitting sideways on to us at the piano keyboard - didn't get a glance through all four verses.  "Look at me!" he pleaded.  He wasn't best pleased.

I resolved not to let him down with the "fat".  The second song was passable, but hardly a credit.  I never did see Steve leave. 

Viv had turned up, having had a hand in designing a new CAT5 wiring loop for the Hall.  He munched his way through the buffet, and then announced he needed to go and pick up a table from Freecycle.  So I stacked a few chairs and went to give him a hand, while the nice catering ladies tidied up.  And that was that.  We've taken our first step to public recognition. 

Steve says it's madrigals next.

Chee Dale Christmas

The Monsal Trail is becoming our favourite local walk.  So when our traditional Christmas Day outing came onto the radar, it was little surprise that Clive announced, "We'll all meet in Millers Dale Station car park".  It ticks the boxes: less than half an hour's drive away, with toilets and an electric-buggy-friendly route, and fascinating vistas. 

Last year had been wet and cold, and the River Wye was swollen over its banks at several points.  Half of us had diverted up to higher ground, and followed a track across farm fields via Flag Dale.  This year was marginally less wet and cold, and the river just about allowed for the adventurous to take the Chee Dale lower path.

We boasted a substantial Chinese contingent - some from our house and some from No25.  Mary and I were getting cold just standing around, so led the way to the 'abseiling bridge'.  Then we headed down to the riverside path.  Before long, Callum, Keziah and the legendary Titus joined me at the front of the party.  They seemed comfortable with a mouldy oldie pottering along with them, so we stuck together.

Clive's laminated route plan referred to two sets of stepping stones.  As this was the point where most of the adventurous had to turn back last year, I was keen to see how we'd fair.  I'd expected the stones would cross the river.  But just at the point where the flow has undercut the rock face, there's a line of cube blocks parallel to the river, making up for the washed-away bank.  The second set, further along, was mostly covered, but not so we got stuck.

We made it through to the turn-back point, where we converged with the easy route.  It had taken just an hour.  It had been great fun. Titus had managed to keep the water out of his wellies, though he had mud up to his armpits.  A stubborn root sent Kezzie sprawling.  Callum had talked incessantly.  On the return path, the echoing tunnels tempted some of the more festively-minded to try out "Ding dong merrily on high".

Back at the Station we spread the picnic tables with sandwiches, fruit and cake, and the saints dived in.  Viv was bartering with Marcello and Quieng for the most bacon.  We packed Ray into a car to counteract his shivering.  Rosie was on her phone.  Peter Ali showed up on his mountain bike.  Jack thoughtfully squashed up all the sandwich packs and plastic cups so the back bin liners wouldn't overflow our wheelie bins back home.   Jan and Jane arrived as everyone one else was leaving.

Before Sheffield I took a detour through Eyam.  The view across the valley to Frogatt Edge was clear and bright.  Back home, Andrzej bundled his two Arabic-speaking friends into the little lounge to view the next episode in his DVD on Old Testament theology.  Harriet cooked up chicken supreme.

Sadly, I can't deny that I did some Jesus Centre admin before Mary and I got ready to spend the evening - as usual - with Phil and Donna in Chesterfield.  Returning at 11.00pm, Viv was taking home some Slovakian Romanies who'd been at the Jesus Centre.  An amazing mix. 

Tomorrow it's a central leaders event.

Sweet Bells and St Winifred

Mary and I have joined the local choir.  Back in the summer there were rumours that one would start in Broomhall, and I was interested.  Our mission motivators intermittently ask what we'd like to do to 'get out a bit more' and 'meet some normal people'.  Courses, clubs, and groups is the category I most readily warm to.  I had a brief flirtation with the University of the Third Age Creative Writing group.  Please believe me when I say it was so that I could improve the quality of my blogs!   But the choir means that Mary and I can go together.  Broomhall News announced it would form in November. 

"They'll probably want us to do a Christmas Concert..." Mary was apprehensive.  "Nah," I reassured.  "They'll hardly have sorted out if we're tenors or altos or whatever by then."

Wrong.  At our first practise, we were drilled in breathing techniques, sang scales to ooh, aah, eeh and lah, learned - as a memory exercise - the first half of the Humming Chorus from Puccini's Madam Butterfly, and tackled 'Cradled in a manger, meanly' ("don't forget the comma, the English doesn't make sense without it...").  Christmas Oratorio looked well within reach by December.

Our choirmaster is Steve.  If you check out energetic, irrepressible and enthusiastic in your online Thesaurus (who needs a creative writing course?), you'll get a suitable a cohort of adjectives (what is the collective noun for adjectives? an embroidery?).  He has a distinguished track record: director of the Sheffield Youth orchestra, Worrall Male Voice Choir, etc.  Inevitably, there have been comparisons with Gareth Malone of BBC Choir series.  Steve is dismissive.

Mary's brother, Tony, reluctantly joined the City of Bath Bach Choir (meeting in the Abbey).  Apprehensive at the technical challenges, he was surprised to find that the mid-rehearsal tea break is the best bit of each practise.  It is the same for all amateur groups?  It is for us.  Week one I met Ian, a quietly-spoken emeritus professor, and week two, John, retired team leader from the Social Services Department.  Week three Terry joined us, and week four, David from the aforesaid WMVC.  Meanwhile Mary's been sorting out the Sheilas, Marjories and Margarets, half of whom seem to be elders at the local URC Church where we meet for Tuesday practice.  Then we learnt that Ray and Ruth, newly relocated from Belfast to Battlecentre, have joined a choir that meets in the Royal Opera House.  Provincial just can't compete!

With week two came "Sweet Bells".  This is variation on the traditional "While shepherds watched their flocks" with a jolly chorus.  The objective seems to be for the men to cram in as many sweet bells, chiming bells and Christmas bells as the available notes and syllables will permit.  Steve seemed to think this exercise in lyrical shoe-horning was all good sport, and part of what gives each interpretation its distinctive local character.  Frustrated, I went home and drained YouTube of available renditions, until I had a workable version.  Then I set to, out of harm's way, while on the rowing machine in the cellar, to master the challenge.  Mary laughed at me as I woke up humming, drove humming and ate humming.  I was not to be deterred, even if I hoped we never had to sing it in performance. 

Flushed with triumph, I returned in week three to find that Ian had similarly marked up his score - with a different result!  Chaos again among the basses.  Back to the cellar and heavy editing.  Then came week four's anticlimax.  "We won't sing that this week." Steve announced.  "Well be joining two other choirs at the University in a couple of weeks, so let's try something else."   Out came "Cradled in a manager, meanly" again, til we'd mastered it unaccompanied.  You'll  find nothing on YouTube for the tune St Winifred.  But I have a bootleg video that I shot on stage in the main Firth Hall performance, and I'm sorely tempted to be first to post it.

How have we been propelled to such dizzying choral heights when we only wanted to 'meet some normal people'?

Liverpool Weekend

We'd promised the Lighthouse saints we'd visit again, and this time took Stephen.  We discovered that they don't do breakfast, lunch and tea on Saturdays, but brunch and tea.  However, when we arrived at 1.00pm, they busied to provide us with a meal.  The Snake Pass has been closed near Rivelyn, and the Woodhead Pass proved bright and sunny.

Ian took his two children back the front garden to finish building a little hut to attract various wildlife, and Stephen went to find the local Tescos.  Mary and I headed to Otterspool Promenade.  I'd discovered it last time on a brisk walk before the Sunday morning meeting.  The sun had turned to drizzle and the wind was blustery.  I suggested we stayed in the car so Mary had a doze and I'd catch up with some reading.  I rang Gav.  "We're sitting on the Mersey Estuary, watching the twinkling lights from the Ellesmere Port oil refineries.  Romantic." 

Back at the house we had an update on their building repair work.  The 'Gate' external wall had lost its plaster ready for waterproof treatment, and provoked interesting comments as visitors for the evening meeting gathered.  Mark spoke about finding fresh faith.  Joe, responding, asked for prayer, and Tommy and I led him into speaking in tongues.  Over supper Lill led the younger folks in a round of riddle-solving, while Blaze got busy in the kitchen.

As we left for the Sunday morning event, we saw Ian's finished hut.  A good number gathered at the Arche centre, and Joe was happy with last night's touch from the Holy Spirit.  I led the '40' meditation (by Chris Goan and Simon Smith), and we interacted well.  The folks chatted warmly before we returned for lunch at Lighthouse. 

 Mary and Stephen left mid-afternoon.  I was staying over for a mentoring session with Ian and the Monday evening.  I fell into conversation Rob and Pauline, and discovered (like me) he'd read Pope Francis's recent Exhortation.  We chatted about what 2014's changes may bring for us.  This included the paradox between us maintaining good stewardship of the application God has led us into, and our stamp of character by which we love to pioneer new things.  I fancy there's something around peace - the work of the Cross - that we can afford to amplify.

We had an early supper of pizza.  "It's Deno's birthday", Ian announced.  "Blaze has done him a cake.  Coming to see him for an hour?".  I was glad to, and we headed to Speke, where he looks after his 79-year-old mum.  Deno had lived with us for a year in Sheffield, then settled at Dayspring in Northampton.  But first his father's then his mother's failing health had called him back.

We heard the dog as we reached the door.  It yapped incessantly - from under the sofa, in front of the television, and in the hallway.  I struggled to identify the breed - some form of soft-haired terrier.  Deno make us a cup of tea, and divided Blaze's cake - complete with fresh cream - into five huge chunks.  Meanwhile the television entertained us with a Sunday evening omnibus on serial killers. 

Monday morning was cold, and Ian and I shared the office.  We stopped for a cuppa, and spent a couple of hours on Professional Development stuff.  The evening get-together was a new 'prophetic pioneers' group that represents the grassroots initiatives being promoted by the younger half of the church.  Viv and Harriet came over from Sheffield, so there was a good Northern mix.  It was great to hear how Lill and Blaze have vision for eleven younger girls, and are planning a camp for the summer.  Kerry wants to beg a piece of waste ground in Kensington (Liverpool) from the Council, and set up a community gardening project.  Harriet wants to start a 'Come dine with me' group.  I related how the Leicester saints had had a year of amazing initiatives, but somehow not reached a breakthrough.  It seems to point to a need for more prayer, so we prayed.

Viv slept in the back of the car as Harriet and I chatted our way back over the Pennines.  Many good things seem to be stirring.

Angels, Songs and Explanations

On Sunday morning in Coventry we sang Robin Mark's song Take us to the river.  It has an interesting third verse, that runs: Is this Your mighty angel / Who stands astride the ocean and the land / In His hand Your mercy...  On Monday morning I received a somewhat querulous email:  Can you tell me who the angel is standing on the ocean and the land?  There is one in Revelation but he is not doing what it says in the song.  It irritates me every time we sing it because I don't like singing what I don't understand.

I suggest querulous, because it wasn't difficult to track down an answer.  I'm sometimes driven to confront people with, "Well, do you want an explanation, or do you just want to grumble?"   Robin Mark had blogged about the Revelation 10 reference.  http://robinmark.com/the-story-behind-take-us-to-the-river/  He wrote the song with the theme of God's mercy in mind.  The angel has a scroll which is generally interpreted to be the gospel.  Mark points out that this is both sweet and bitter.  His blog continues that, for example, the Father's mercy to the returning prodigal son leaves a bitter taste in the older brother's mouth (Luke 15).  However, the song doesn't go on to explore this intriguing extension.

I thought that, in similar vein, I'd write a bit about one of my songs.  As it's not nearly so well known, here are the lyrics.

Lord, for You my strength, my days;
Follow You in manly ways;
Lift to You deep voice of praise.
Son of Man.

2. Lord, for You my social roles:
Headship, priesthood, guarding souls.
Covenant depth in faith-charged goals.
Abraham's Shield.

3. Watched by You from mother's breast.
Called to serve, achieve the best.
Steeled by trial, succeed each test.
Moses' Friend.

4. Train my mind and gain my will:
Talents, boldness, dexterous skill,
Fire of passion - all fulfill.
David's Lord.

5. Conqueror of my Adam pride;
Prophet search me when I'd hide.
With the towel my falseness chide.
Peter's Rock.

6. Spirit filled and gifted, strive.
Pressed by hell, yet I'll survive.
Sons are with me.  He's alive!
Jesus Lord.

7. Burning eyes and keys in hand.
Lion-Lamb before I'll stand.
Myriad voices; blood-bought band.
Heaven's Man.

NCCC (c) 2000 JesusFellowshipChurchCopyCare Ltd.

I wrote it as an encouragement to my friend Tim, when he was first called upon to lead a workshop in one of our Men Alive Days.  Often these workshops provide a challenge to grow in godly, distinctively masculine, character attributes.  Hence the use of Abraham, Moses, David and Peter as models, then an expression of personal aspiration, all topped and tailed by verses about Jesus.  I like songs with - what Huw calls - raw thump and bite.

Sadly, I don't write too many like that anymore.