Falsely Accused

When we got home very late on Christmas Eve (actually 2 a.m. Christmas morning), after the Cantata service and a late meal and gift exchange at José Carlos and Marcia's house, I went to check the e-mail and discovered that there was no DSL signal on the modem/router. Of course, no one is going to do anything on Christmas Day, and we were invited to spend the afternoon with another family of the church, so I didn't call the Internet provider until yesterday. After going through the routine of checking this, unplugging that and trying to reset the other, the technician on the other end of the phone line diagnosed the problem. My modem had given up the ghost and downloaded its last byte, so the company will be sending me a replacement. Until then, I won't have internet or e-mail at home. (I'm back in the office this morning.)

I would not have been surprised to hear the explanation from the other end, "Well, sir, your wife called us and asked us to disconnect your service over the holidays. It's her Christmas present. Merry Christmas!" In my imagination, I had entertained a false accusation against her; still, I wonder whether the "imaginary" gift would have been for me or for herself?

In the mouth of two or three witnesses...

I did get a chance to post yesterday, but I didn't explain the long silence preceding that posting. There is always the excuse about how busy we get this time of year, and for us, that means more practices for the Christmas cantata, which our small choir will sing on Christmas Eve. The consular work has not been extra heavy, although there was a round of official visits to government and military figures this week. What did tie me down, though, was an unexpectedly large translation job, that turned into working 85-hours in less than 6 days to be able to meet the deadline. The client must have been satisfied with the work... a week later there was more of the same, but about a third of the amount of work, and I knew to ask for a longer time to do it in, so the stress was less.

Birthday... somewhere in that period of time, I had to make time to get older. Now, I can truthfully rebut any charge of being 60. Got past that one. There were birthday wishes from those we would expect to remember...one of the first coming in an e-mail from Mom. (She would be the person who's known me the longest, wouldn't she?) And a couple of surprise wishes, a phone call from a pastor in Providence, R.I., and an e-mail from Andriy, the Ukrainian doctor who lived and worked here for 4 years or so. He went back to Ukraine 3 years ago and we visited him when we went there in 2005. Then we lost contact...until my birthday. What a joy, and a surprise, as we learned his family had grown by one in the meantime, and he's started building his own house. News from Andriy was a priceless gift on my birthday.

Andriy holding Anushka, the newest addition to the family. Of course, Bogdan and Iulianka have grown since we last saw them.

The work on the house has gone slowly, Andriy says, because he has had to redo a lot of work himself. "All the good workmen left Ukraine to work in other countries." So for the past 6 months, he has done all the work himself after he does his regular job at the nuclear power plant.




And where was I going with the title to this posting? Oh, yes. Someone who had been talking to some of the people we first knew and contacted in the mission work 25-30 years ago was told that the word went around in the early years that I was a CIA agent who had come to spy on Madeira. No wonder it took a while to get anything going! Looking back, it's not surprising some would think that. We came when the communist forces were still very vocal in Portugal, following the 1974 overthrow of the fascist regime. The strict rules of the fascist regime had given way, not just to liberty, but to a libertine society. The sidewalks were filled with two main types of makeshift bookstalls: they were either selling hardcore pornography or communist propaganda.

Last Dec. 3 marked the 31st anniversary of our arrival to an island we knew nothing about and where we didn't even have reservations for the night. We landed at 8:30 p.m, and a man at the airport suggested a boarding house in the nearest village, Santa Cruz. The next morning, as we surveyed our new surroundings, we noticed a red booth with yellow lettering all over it. The letters "MRPP" meant nothing to us, but the hammer-and-sickle symbol was a clear indication of communist influence. We came to find out that the brother of the lady who ran the boarding house was the head of the Maoist communist party in Portugal, who had just been involved in the first autonomous regional elections after the 1974 revolution. Now who says God doesn't have a sense of humor? Of all the places to stay the first two months of our life on Madeira!

The curious thing is that this is the second time in the past few months that word has gotten back to us about our supposed "CIA connection". We got the same story from a completely different source, but from one who knew us and who knew others who knew us in the late '70s and early '80s. In the mouth of two or three witnesses, said the law, let every word be confirmed. That might explain why some of those we tried to minister to suddenly "lost interest" in the church and the gospel. So add "CIA" to the list of labels attached to us, that were intended to drive people away... we were accused of bringing "a religion of the devil" and of being "calvinists"---but that last one is another story for another time.

The Irresistible Urge to Brush My Teeth

Thursday morning. Had to get up earlier than usual because I give a private English lesson every Thursday before going to the office. I kept my eye on the clock because leaving the house a few minutes later than I should means getting caught in rush-hour traffic and taking an extra 20 minutes to get to town (yes, in our own way and on an island scale, we do have traffic jams). Yes, it was time to be going...to have been gone already, actually...and I had an irresistible urge to brush my teeth. Why? I brushed before I went to bed, and I hadn't eaten anything since I got up. I weighed the options: teeth or traffic? I HAD to brush my teeth, and the reason was---my Thursday morning student is my dentist.

I dutifully brushed my teeth, all the while knowing the good doctor was not going to check my teeth. During that hour, he's more concerned about his English pronunciation (what comes out of his mouth) than my oral hygiene (what's lurking in mine). It was just the thought of being in the presence of my dentist that made me take another minute or so of time before leaving home. And as I brushed, I reflected on that irresistible need, and made a spiritual application. One day it won't be the dentist I'll be standing before, but the Lord Himself; and I'm sure it won't be my teeth that will concern me most. The Psalmist knew the feeling: "Who shall ascend unto the hill of the LORD? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands and a pure heart..." (Psa. 24:3-4)

Lord, grant me the irresistible urge to keep my heart clean and pure before You.

Attendance at Russian service up by 50%!

Of course if attendance is normally 2, then all it takes is 1 more, doesn't it? But if normal attendance is 2, 1 more does make a big difference, after all. It is 50% more!

When we first began Russian-language services 5 or 6 years ago, we had up to 13 or 14 coming on most Sundays, and 8 or 9 was the regular attendance. Over time, the workers returned to their homes and families, generally in Ukraine, or in a few cases, Russia, Belarussia, Moldavia, or one of the former Soviet Republics, until we were left with just one couple, Petro and Lidiya, from Kiev. For over a year now, we still meet every Sunday to sing in Russian/Ukrainian, and have a short reading, and they get to pray in their own language.

Then, out of the blue this week, an e-mail from Svetlana ("Sveta"), saying she had moved to Madeira from St. Petersburg and had found out there is a Baptist church here. She speaks English, but feels more at home in her native Russian, of course. She saw on the blog that we have Russian services, and wanted to know if it is every week. I replied to her e-mail, and yesterday she came to the meeting. I understand her mother, who is also a believer, will be coming for Christmas and New Year, and will come to visit us, also. Sveta's presence is an encouragement to us in the Russian service (including Abbie, who doesn't speak Russian, but I suspect understands more than she lets on to the rest of us---and she does play the piano in Russian!).

One other "small" ministry of the church is the prison meeting each Monday. Attendance varies there, too, and what was at one time a group of 12-15 is now 5 or 6, four of whom are Ukrainian. None of those who attend have made a commitment to Jesus, as we evangelicals understand it. The Ukrainians all have an Orthodox background, so I have continued to mention the importance of a life-changing experience of the new birth by faith in Jesus Christ to them. Week after week, in the short time we have together, linguistic and cultural barriers (not to mention spiritual ones) notwithstanding, here a little, there a little: one wonders how much is penetrating into their hearts. Then today, a question by one of the Ukrainians: "But if I make this decision, how do I know it is real? How can I be sure I have a new life?" I don't know how much of my answer he and the others understood today, but the fact he even asked the question is a sign that something has registered: "Understanding up by 50%!" -- well, that's not as easy to measure as counting heads for attendance, and not something we can chart statistically. But when the Spirit moves, as Jesus said, we know it like when we hear the wind blowing, even if we can't measure it or chart it. The wind is blowing.