Current Events and Updates of the Ministry

terraces of Bali

I am sitting in a little cyber café in the village of Kintamani on my final wrap-up in Bali. Tomorrow I go to the airport and fly out just after midnight for Winnipeg. Today as I rode my motorbike across the island for the last time I tried to place my different thoughts into perspective. I decided that this might also be a good day to write one last “Asia blog” before I left Bali.

Today I purchased and ate one last durian before leaving – one

the infamous durian - banned in public places

last, lingering treat. Even here in Southeast Asia where durians grow they are expensive, and are a major treat. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the durian, it has been compared to eating rancid, foul-smelling custard in a putrid outhouse. Personally I think that comparison is a bit harsh, and I do not find the smell to be offensive in the least, and I find the taste to be divine.

I am pasting a couple of excerpts from the internet just to give you “the flavor”:

“Widely known and revered in Southeast Asia as the “king of fruits”, the durian is distinctive for its large size, unique odor and formidable thorn-covered husk. The edible flesh emits a distinctive odor, strong and penetrating even when the husk is intact. Some people regard the durian as fragrant; others find the aroma overpowering and offensive. The smell evokes reactions from deep appreciation to intense disgust, and has been described variously as almonds, rotten onions, turpentine, and gym socks. The odor has led to the fruit’s banishment from certain hotels and public transportation in Southeast Asia”

Here are some of the ways that the smell of durian has been described:

• fermented onions
  

  succulent, delicious and smelly

• overripe cheese
• rotting fish
• unwashed socks
• a city dump on a hot summer day

typical market scene

Historians report that Sir Stamford Raffles, who established Singapore as a British trading post in 1819, held his nose and ran in the other direction if he caught even a whiff of the dreaded fruit.

Another former British governor likened the stench to carrion in custard.

French naturalist Henri Mouhot wrote: “On first tasting it I thought it like the flesh of some animal in a state of putrefaction.”

But, for those of us who like it, it is a little kiss of heaven!

…so apart from durian, let me try to formulate some of my feelings as I say goodbye to Bali.

First of all, I am very happy to be returning to Theresa. I have been gone for a long, long time, and we both need time together again. As you are aware by now if you have been keeping up on my occasional blogs, this summer has not at all turned out as we had planned. For a variety of reasons the timing of everything was stood on its head.  Theresa and I had committed ourselves to be with James and Jessica over this time that he needed to be away from her and the boys doing his Masters research. Our original plans were that I would be with James here in Bali from mid May through the end of August. This was to have almost taken him to the end of his work here. Theresa would have been with Jessica, the boys and our other children in Winnipeg while I was with James in Bali. Upon my return there was to have been only days or weeks left for James to be away from Jessica.

Of course, this plan did not work out. I am returning tomorrow and

preparing field for rice planting

James still has until at least the end of October in Indonesia in order to complete his research. In order to fulfill our commitment to them we have promised that Theresa will stay in Winnipeg to help until James returns.  This will mean that I will need to go to Mexico alone until sometime in November when Theresa can join me there.

Jessica will be coming to Bali for two weeks at the very beginning of September in order to be with James. In fact, she will be arriving in Bali just days after I leave. During this time I will remain in Winnipeg to help Theresa with the boys, and of course to reconnect with family and friends. Then, probably very soon after Jessica returns to Canada, I will need to leave for Mexico. This will be hard, but we are committed to fulfilling our promise to them.

Steve joins musicians

The time here in Indonesia and Thailand has been a time for me to refocus and look at the situation with the work in Mexico “away from the grindstone”. That is what sabbatical times are all about I suppose. I feel refreshed and as if I return with new ideas, new perspectives and new vision which I have gained while away. It is too early to talk about these ideas now since they will need to be discussed thoroughly with all the players involved. I will share them when the timing is correct. I spent a very valuable two weeks in Thailand and bring a new perspective from the work there as well.

While here in Bali I made some good Hindu friends. I was able to

proclaim my faith to some of these. I was able to become a part of a little Christian church (two actually), and was able to take the Sunday morning preaching service in the little congregation in the town of Lovina since one of the young women could translate for me.

I was able to spend a month with my adult son and learn to know him as a grown man. We both made the transition over our time together of learning what it means to be in a father-son relationship as two adults. It has been good month with him. We were able to talk, dream, work together, and enjoy being together.

I have seen a different aspect of the human journey into spirituality as has been described in my recent blogs. I suspect that this inner revelation could not have happened had I not been here, or at least away from my normal day-to-day work life.

I have enjoyed a beautiful island called Bali. I have been able to see its good and bad sides over the past months. As anywhere, Bali has both beautiful parts to it, as well as a seamy underbelly. My time here has shown me both.

I leave with a certain sadness to say goodbye, but I am now ready to go home. I will land in Winnipeg on the evening of the 29^th of August and can hardly wait to see the woman that I love again.

This will by my last blog from Asia. Thank you for praying with me over these somewhat turbulent months while I have waited for James to arrive, and while I have been trying to listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit in the stillness of his voice, and trying not to be sidetracked by the lightning, thunder, earthquakes or other distractions around me.

Blessings until later,

Steven

Supposedly, (according to George Burgess), 150 people are killed each year by falling coconuts. I don’t know if these statistics are even vaguely accurate, but this little tidbit was shared with me by James the other day moments after a very large coconut crashed to the ground just behind us as we walked along the road close to his work place in Les, Bali. I was reminded of this possibility again tonight as I was driving the motor bike out to the main highway from our rental rooms. A smallish coconut pounded to the ground just beside me and crashed into my motor bike, splashing both me and the bike with coconut water. Better the bike than my head is all that I can say.

I will preface my blog tonight by saying that I am neither a theologian, educated, nor very smart. However, I do believe that the Holy Spirit does speak to us, God’s children, and I simply want to share some of my thoughts with you.

Steve and a friend from Bali

I am sitting here listening to the callers chanting from the local Hindu temples. Rather acidly James suggested the other day that it may have been okay before microphones and loudspeakers were developed and the chanters used only their natural voice. Now however, their chanting can be broadcast at who knows how many decibels from the rooftops with the help of mega loudspeakers – definitely invasive and unpleasant. Also, the chanting can, and is done at any hour of the day and night. I suspect that there must be some sort of a rhyme or reason behind the timing, but I have yet to discover it. One of them seems to find 3:00 am as being a good time to serenade us all to prayer.

Several things are interesting to me: first of all, the chanting is done in Sanskrit – an ancient Indo-Aryan language that no one, probably including the chanters understands. The chanting and prayers are repeated over and over again, day and night. The temples interestingly, are places where the devout come to present offerings, light incense and pray, and also they become a social meeting place for men to gamble at cock fights and gather to drink arak – a locally made alcoholic drink.

Steve and more friends

This sounds just too familiar somehow. Haven’t we also made religion sacrosanct and forgotten the “whys”. Why, for example, were masses done in Latin – a language that no one spoke, understood, or could relate to except that it was a “religious language” and gave you goose bumps? Or, why was High German insisted on for religious ritual in many Mennonite groups while the congregants spoke nor understood nary a word of it anymore. Why do some still insist on the holy nature of the King James translation of scripture and debase other more modern translations as being less valid? Isn’t it all for basically the same reason as the use of the ancient “sacred” Sanskrit language by the chanters and callers from the Hindu temples? Isn’t it all due to “in-your-face” religion that we cherish as our way into God’s acceptance?

Why is it that Jesus had to warn us against performing religion like the Pharisees and religious leaders of his day with their chanting and prayers? In Matthew 6:5 he admonishes us “When you pray, don’t be like the hypocrites who love to pray publicly on street corners and in the synagogues where everyone can see them. I tell you the truth, that is all the reward they will ever get.”

How far are we really from this issue in our own hearts? Oh, it is very easy to ride a very holy high horse about the heathens across the little lane with their ungodly temples and their idols and their chanting and repeated babblings and prayers to some demonic god. But what about my own heart? Do I too make “religion” my default mode and forget the person whom I am to be worshiping and having a relationship with? God, after all, is more pleased with our love and relationship than in our unthinking religious rituals. First Samuel 15:22 states: “What is more pleasing to the LORD: your burnt offerings and sacrifices or your obedience to his voice? Listen! Obedience is better than sacrifice, and submission is better than offering the fat of rams.”

Before I become too much holier-then-thou in my attitudes I must take a close look at my own heart.

A basic question for me that I still come back to constantly is the one that I have been reflecting upon throughout my recent entries, namely, how do I present, and represent the reality of the living Jesus to someone who is steeped in another religion? How do I present Jesus as relevant to someone who is very religious and devout in his faith to a false god?

Bali gods with an umbrella

I was reading the books of First and Second Peter earlier today and found something interesting in Peter’s writings. In 1 Peter 1 verse 3 he says “Praise the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! God has given us a new birth because of his great mercy. We have been born into a new life that has a confidence which is alive because Jesus Christ has come back to life.”

Something jumped out at me in the very end of the verse – “a new life that has a confidence which is alive because Jesus Christ has come back to life.” I saw Peter, perhaps for the first time, as a man. He was a man who had lived with, worked with, eaten with, loved, denied, abandoned and been forgiven by the man Jesus. How difficult it must have been in so many ways to make that astronomical leap of faith from seeing Jesus as the man, the friend, to Jesus the Christ, God in the flesh. How necessary it was for him to say “our confidence which is alive because Jesus Christ has come back to life.” His confidence had to be grounded in the reality that Jesus had come back to life again from the dead. After all, he had spent over three years with Jesus the man. He had seen him die. He had seen his dead body in the tomb. His benchmark for confidence in faith was that this same Jesus was now resurrected from the grave and was now his living Lord.

Later he states in 2 Peter 1:16-19 “We weren’t, you know, just wishing on a star when we laid the facts out before you regarding the powerful return of our Master, Jesus Christ. We were there for the preview! We saw it with our own eyes: Jesus resplendent with light from God the Father as the voice of Majestic Glory spoke: “This is my Son, marked by my love, focus of all my delight.” We were there on the holy mountain with him. We heard the voice out of heaven with our very own ears. We couldn’t be more sure of what we saw and heard—God’s glory, God’s voice. The prophetic Word was confirmed to us. You’ll do well to keep focusing on It.” (The Message)

Jesus the Christ – the resurrected Jesus. Jesus resplendent with light, the One of whom the Father stated “This is my Son, marked by my love, focus of all my delight.”

Somehow this brings everything back into focus for me again. Have we been trying to make everything too complicated with our theology degrees, our libraries with tome upon tome written upon the most obscure (and perhaps irrelevant) aspects about religion, while we have forgotten the meat and potatoes of the real person of Jesus?

What did Paul say when he began to boil the Christian faith down to its essence: “Friends, let me go over the Message with you one final time— this Message that I proclaimed and that you made your own; this Message on which you took your stand and by which your life has been saved. (I’m assuming, now, that your belief was the real thing and not a passing fancy, that you’re in this for good and holding fast.) The first thing I did was place before you what was placed so emphatically before me: that the Messiah died for our sins, exactly as Scripture tells it; that he was buried; that he was raised from death on the third day, again exactly as Scripture says; that he presented himself alive to Peter, then to his closest followers, and later to more than five hundred of his followers all at the same time…that he then spent time with James and the rest of those he commissioned to represent him; and that he finally presented himself alive to me.” 1 Corinthians 15:1-8 (The Message).

I fear that with all of our religious professionalism, our degrees and seminaries, our religion and dogmas, our rituals and libraries upon tedious libraries of books about Jesus we may have missed the real McCoy – the One to whom the Father affirmed his divine love.

Woman in a field

Clay Crosse said it well in his song “Saving the World”

“So many preachers, so many churches and denominations got their opinions and their documents and statements and beliefs and sometimes there’s a miscommunication and we complicate the truth and convolute the story. But as far as I recall I do believe it all comes down to a man dying on a cross saving the world, rising from the dead doing what He said He would do. Loving everyone He saw. When it’s said and done it all comes down to a man dying on a cross saving the world.

It isn’t a secret, and maybe I’m being simple minded, but it’s about Jesus and a way, a truth, a life that can change a heart and soul forever. And we need to be reminded it’s the power of the blood that brings us to redemption. We can rise above the fall, and the reason for it all comes down to a man dying on a cross saving the world, rising from the dead doing what He said He would do. Loving everyone He saw. When it’s said and done it all comes down to a man dying on a cross saving the world.

An old man in Bali

All the people beneath the steeple are just reaching for the truth that can save a helpless soul. We wrestle with the mystery in the teaching, but the news is all good. I think that we should remember one thing, it is all about a man dying on a cross saving the world, rising from the dead doing what He said He would do. Loving everyone He saw. When it’s said and done it all comes down to a man dying on a cross saving the world.”

It is not religion that the world so desperately needs nor for which hearts are so longingly crying out. There are plenty of religions to go around – and more besides. If Christianity is no more than a dogma and another religion – even if a very nice and good one – then it is less than worthless. Men and women are bound enough by plenty of religiosity and religion, they don’t need another one.

A strangling god

But they need Jesus. Jesus who died for their sins exactly as Scripture says. Jesus who was buried. Jesus who was raised from the dead on the third day. Jesus who then presented himself alive and as Savior. This is the Jesus, the Christ that the world longs to meet – not another dead religion.

My prayer is that we all would fall in love again with the living Jesus. When we know this Jesus He will overflow from our lives as healing and living water – flowing from our very bellies just as He said he would do.

So, did I get your attention?   I intended to do just that, and I will return at some point in today’s ramblings to the header.   However, the main question on my mind right now is “why did Jesus die”?   I will return to that at some point as well in my meanderings through today’s session on the “insanities of Steve’s brain”.

Temple with idols

Let me bring you up to date on other important matters first – what is that crazy guy up to now?   Where is he now?   Is he still alive, or laying dead at the side of the road somewhere in S.E. Asia? – and other pertinent issues.

I am indeed alive.   I can do nothing other than sit and shake my head at the absolutely lousy and almost insane timing of this summer.   James finally got his long awaited research visa for Indonesia and managed to plow his way through the final maze of bureaucracy in Jakarta, Java (the capital of Indonesia), just in time for my two month visa to expire for Indonesia.   I got a call from him from Jakarta at about midnight on the night before I was heading for the airport for Thailand that he was finally able to come to Bali the next morning – the exact morning that I was leaving.   There was still hope that we might be able to meet at the airport and have a quick hug before I boarded for Thailand.   As things turned out however, no-go on that either.   He had some trouble with his credit card that prevented the purchase of the ticket and was delayed again.   He made it to Bali on the day following my departure for Thailand – the exact day after I left.   Go figure! Has God got a sense of the bizarre or what?

So I am now in Thailand (or “Toyland” as I like to think of it.   This is a little family in-joke dating back to when the children were much younger.  In Canada I had a brass souvenir knife and sheath that I had bought in Thailand during one of my travels.  One of the neighborhood kids was at our place and was asking about it and where I had gotten it – he was quite taken by it.   I explained that I had bought it when I was in Thailand.  His eyes got very big, and in his child’s lisp he asked “You got this sharp thing in Toyland”?   Well, it wasn’t sharp, and it wasn’t Toyland, but the name has stuck).   I am in Thailand, and James is in Bali.

I am here because I have reached the 60 day tourist visa limit for Indonesia and needed to physically leave the country and reenter in order to renew.  Next time I can only acquire a 30 day visa (ie., from within the country of Indonesia, rather than from its embassy in Canada where I got my 60 day visa).  This I will be able to do, Lord willing, when I reenter Bali.

While James and Jessica were working in China and North Korea James had spent some time in northwestern Thailand at a little place called Fang with a Christian organization there called Upland Holistic Development Project. Their website may be of interest to you at: http://www.uhdp.org/index.html.   Their mandate is working with the marginalized tribal groups in the golden triangle area of Thailand in the areas of agro-forestry and sustainable farming as well as in water and sanitation, women and gender issues, micro-enterprise and micro-finance, and probably much more.   James was very favorably impressed by their work and spoke very highly of them to me at the time.   Because we knew that I would need to leave Indonesia in order to get a new entry visa, and because this was originally going to be somewhere mid-research time for him we had planned to go to Thailand together and revisit UHDP.   This was to have been a time to filter and refocus for him after two months of intense research on his Masters Thesis in Bali, and a time to introduce me to their work with the tribal groups in Thailand.   Well, as you already know…

What are my impressions of Thailand?   Well, first of all, my last time here was about 19 or 20 years ago.   My first time here was over 31 years ago.   In fact, I watched 1979 pass and brought in the new year of 1980 in Thailand.   Obviously a lot has changed with the passing of all these years.   South East Asia is now modern and quickly coming up in the world.   Actually, I was recently sent an article which places Bangkok, the capital of Thailand, as being rated #1 as the world’s best city by the influential U.S. travel magazine Travel + Leisure. This was announced as part of its World’s Best 2011 Awards issue to be published July 22.   The prestigious title was awarded based on the votes of thousands of Travel + Leisure readers who voted for cities around the world. (http://www.travelandleisure.com/worldsbest/2011/cities).   Sounds strange, but apparently it is so.   Hmmm…

At any rate, as I already said, things are modern, up-to-date, and most surprisingly, very, very clean.   But not all changes are for the better.   There is a price that always comes with change and modernization.   To be certain, I am probably one who like all who are well, well past their prime, prefer to revel in the nostalgia of antiquity and resent the realities of the present.   I am a dinosaur, or more aptly stated, I suppose that I am a Luddite at heart.   If I had wooden shoes, and if the march of change could be halted with some well thrown clogs into the gears of the machinery of time, then nine times out of ten I would be throwing mine.

I resent the specialty coffee shops and sushi bars which have sprung up in the “far corners of the earth”.   With the specialty coffee shops and sushi bars come designer sunglasses and designer jeans, and with these designer jeans come designer tourists, and with designer tourists come designer tourist prices.   Oh, the knockoff Rolex watches are still there to be sure, but the knockoffs are much more sophisticated and much, much more expensive now, and are being flogged to rich, gullible designer tourists who bat their eyelids in an awed stupor at being so far from home and in such a strange, foreign world, as they sip their specialty coffee in little mugs in their knockoff Gucci jeans and RayBan sunglasses.   I miss the days of knockoff Rolex Diamond watches for $4.00 from the street vendors.   Oh, where are the good old days that once were Asia?

I landed in Phuket, Thailand but stayed only long enough to board the first bus north for Bangkok – a 13 hour “red-eye special”.   Actually, to be fair, it was a really nice, air conditioned bus with nice, large seats and I slept quite well – as well as one can sleep on a bus.   Immediately upon arriving in Bangkok I caught the first bus heading northwest towards Chiang Mai, but instead of going directly there I decided to follow the advice of a fellow traveler that I had met on the bus and take a stop over at a place called Sukhothai, about half way to Chiang Mai.   Almost 8 hours later I arrived after another uneventful bus trip.   Sukhothai is a very interesting old city with tons of history.   Since it was the weekend anyway, and since I didn’t have any reason to show up at the doorstep of UHDP until Monday I decided to check it out.   It was an interesting stopover and I took tons of pictures of ruins of old Buddhist temples (or wats) with their associated stupahs and smiling Buddhas.

After spending the night there in a little guest house I caught a bus to Chiang Mai.   This time around the bus service hit a bit of a decline.   Let’s just say that there was no attempt to sell tickets as related to seat numbers.   If one could physically get on the bus, then it was fair game.   No worries – actually I got a seat fairly quickly, and kept it – thank you very much!   No “mister nice guy” for me this time.

So, I arrived in Chiang Mai on Sunday evening.   I found a little guest house that James had recommended and decided that since I was in Chiang Mai I really should see what all of the kerfuffle is about in all of the guide books about the place.   For years now, whenever I have met travelers who have been to Thailand and Chiang Mai comes up in the conversation, there is a kind of holy hush that settles, their eyes sort of glaze over, and they begin to mumble in a far-off introspective way.   It has been touted as the Mecca of Meccas.   The supreme of all supreme s.   Chiang Mai sehen und sterben, and other such drivel.

I found it to be okay as cities go, and once again I have tons of pictures gold-leafed Buddhas, tons of wats, stupahs, etc., etc.   The food is good, the city pleasant, and I am not sorry that I spent a day here.   Still, my eyes will never glaze over and I will never whisper in awed tones whenever I mention the name.

Buddhist Monk

Today I head over to Fang where UHDP is located.   This is another 4 hour bus ride up toward Myanmar.   They are located just a stones throw from the actual border.   I look forward to spending the next week and a half there soaking up all that I can from them because I believe that there will be very direct and important transference of the work that they are doing with the work in Mexico.   I hope to be able to gain immensely from this visit and be able to find ways to take knowledge back to the farming work at the Bible School and Training Center that we are involved with in Mexico, as well as from other areas of their work with the tribal and marginalized groups.   So, as soon as I finish punching out this blog for Theresa to post, I will head over to the bus station and catch the next adventure-filled jaunt across the mountains.

Okay, so that is an update about me – but why the rather crazy header?

As you know by reading my recent “Asia blogs” God is raising some very basic questions in me of late.   Who ever it was who made the statement about the “God-sized vacuum in all of us” hit the nail on the head.   There is a God-seeking journey in all of mankind.   If there is anyone sitting in North America who doubts what I am saying, I challenge you to spend two months in Asia or Africa or any other continent where you are out of your “natural element” as I have just done.   Perhaps in the self-sufficient and affluent world of North America this driving force is somewhat masked (however, even there it is very evident and cannot be denied).

It is the seeking for God (or gods) which drives my Balinese Hindu friends to spend hours of time, many resources, and much energy making sacrifices in prayers and offerings daily.  While in Lombok, a Muslim island, the mosques were constantly full of the devout praying, and the loudspeakers mounted on the roof of each mosque were constantly chanting, bringing people to prayer.   Here in Thailand men, women and children are constantly in worship and obeisance in front of statues of Buddha, monks, and other objects, making offerings and burning incense and bowing and stooping in reverence and prayer.   We are broken people with a vacuum which we desperately know must be filled, and can only be done so by one who is supreme – who is bigger than us.

In the new age movement in North America and Europe this vacuum is attempted to be filled by higher enlightenment and self actualization and other such rot.   But it is still trying to be filled.

So, why did Jesus die?   Did he die so that we – us the privileged few who “have the knowledge” – and forget the rest of these heathen blighters out there – can live a happy, well adjusted, and even good life relatively free from pain, and expecting the goodies that daddy God must give us – thank you very much?   Why did Jesus (God) pay such a high price for our salvation (and we do Him injustice if we focus only on the physical suffering of His death.   Nonetheless, if you doubt the physical agony that Jesus did suffer than just rent Mel Gibson’s movie The Passion of the Christ again and have a little reminder.   Even Mel glossed over the physical horrors which Jesus underwent for our sake).   But the physical, as blatant as it was, is only a little part of the agony which God when through for our salvation.   After all, there are many who lived brave and exemplary lives and who died even braver agonized deaths.   While we have Mel Gibson on our minds, just look at his portrayal of William Wallace in the movie Braveheart. Wallace was a man who lived a life of bravery at the extreme, and who died a death of bravery to the max.

I must therefore conclude that just because Jesus lived a life of bravery and died a heinous death of torture this alone is not why his life and death have become the pivotal point in all history.   After all, we have already stated that many have lived exemplary lives and died heinous, and torturous deaths.

But Jesus paid an unthinkable price for us. He – God – took on sin and died for us.

Why?

Is it enough that I live a nice life?   That I don’t do too many bad things and try to live like a “nice Christian” should? That I try to be a nice neighbor, and a half-descent friend to those that I like around me?   That I try to be good as long as I live and then have a nice little life insurance package with the “big guy” when it is feierabend and I start pushing lilies?

Come on, get real!   I know many people who are nicer, friendlier, live more Christ-like lives, and make much better neighbors and friends, and hands-down are much more devout men and women who are Hindus, Muslims and Buddhists than many who call themselves followers of Jesus Christ.   Many of these people exhibit more of what we would refer to as the “fruits of the Spirit” in their lives than many Bible touting believers do.

So, why did Jesus (God) pay such an unbelievable price for us?   I am convinced that there is a lot more than just the nice little cozy lives that we want to live.   Jesus didn’t die so that I can be a happy, reasonably well adjusted “mister nice guy”, or so that I can have a nice American life.

Why the “elephants and vindictive Jesus” header?   Most people think of Chiang Mai as the Mecca of traditional tribal markets, the old walled city, trekking trips into the mountains, or elephant rides.   Last evening I was checking out the night bazaar (for knockoffs as mentioned above), and had the evening disturbed by some man yelling in a staccato monotone in English on one of the street corners – he was obviously occidental, and according to his accent, American.   He was standing in a white shirt with a BIG leather-bound Bible tucked under his arm.   It was what he was barking at the crowd that burdened my soul and made me feel sick inside and for which I began apologizing to God on the man’s behalf.   He was machine-gun firing scripture verses at the crowd – Jesus, the vindictive God.   Presumably he was trying to convict the expat. tourists, I’m not sure.   At any rate, all my spirit could groan was “God, I am so sorry.   This is never what you meant Jesus to be”.   How can we make such a mockery of Jesus before the unsaved world?   As God’s scathing words to Israel through Isaiah, is it because of us that God’s name is mocked and blasphemed?

I am sure that my friend on the street corner saw himself as a modern-day Old Testament prophet or something.   I am sure that he had all of the best of intentions and most likely loves Jesus.   But, oh the mockery.   Where is our heart of compassion? How can we ever, ever be Jesus to a desperately seeking world full of lost, longing souls if we don’t even know Jesus’ heart ourselves?   How can we scream at them of a vindictive God when they are so desperately longing for a soul-cleansing and healing Christ?

So, why did God pay such a high price in Jesus?   Think about it and let him speak to your spirit through his Spirit.

Okay, I must pack and head for Fang.   Tempus fugit.

Until next time…

Steve's loaded bike

Despite my rather pretentious title, I think that it would be almost impossible for an “orang putih” (gringo) to actually become Asian when it comes to motor bikes. I did impress myself though, and I was quite proud of the loads that I carried on my bike. Still, it was nothing at all compared to what a child would be able to do here.

I have seen some awesome, and awe inspiring things done with a small bike. Most of the bikes used here are in the 100cc to 135cc range. The one that I am renting is a 135cc, and is considered to be quite a beefy machine. If you can imagine it, and if it can physically be attached to a bike, then it can be done.

My all-time favorite for sheer creativity and ingenuity goes to

unbelievable!!

the mobile pet store – actually a mobile tropical fish store. The proud owner of said store had attached a large contraption on the back of his bike and across a bar he had hung bags and bags of tropical and gold fish. Hanging off of the side of the bike were more of the same. I met him motoring merrily down the road, no doubt to his next market where he could sell his fish. His was certainly not the biggest load that I have seen, but one of the top-notch in creativity.

My hats off though to the mobile restaurants as well. These “bakso” (noodle soup) stands come complete with stove, cooking pots full of scalding soup, noodles, spice bottles and ground spices, meat balls, plates and serving utensils, etc. All of this is attached to the back of a small motor bike and 100% mobile. You, once again, see these whipping down the road everywhere. Bakso at your service.

Probably the most impressive though are the mobile hardware and toy stores. I have also seen motor bikes completely set up with household cleaning appliances – brooms, dustpans, pots and pails, etc. I don’t mean five or six – I am talking about a load that would make most pickup trucks look overloaded.

So, as I have already said, my title, although impressive, bears nothing to reality, and I don’t stand a chance against the competition.

I am in the process of moving out of Desa Abang – my volcano lake

second view of mobile restaurant

home, to the north shore of the island. I took one load over yesterday, and did my final move-out this morning.

Incidentally, just an interesting little aside – yesterday as I was going around my volcano-crater lake (caldera) I noticed that the water over a large part of one end had a really weird light green tinge to it. It was reminiscent of an alpine lake in British Columbia which is fed by ice flows – kind of greeny-blue and strange colored. Today Nyoman mentioned the change in the color which has taken place over the past two days and said that it was probably due to gas leaking from the volcano into the water, and that there is also a sulfur smell being noted. Today, as I was on my way out of the village I met a government official who was taking pictures of the water. He seemed quite “into” what he was doing. Batur volcano is still actively smoking every day, and had its last major eruption in 1974 but some definite activity as recently as 2000, and with the mountain being shut down for climbing in 2009 due to fears of another possible eruption then. So, maybe my move from its base is fortuitous timing??

local delivery truck

I have a cute little house that I will be renting now at a little village just west of Lovina, on the north shore of Bali. I will be helping Mama Gloria whom I spoke about in my last blog. I think that my job details will include yard work and gardening, as well as pruning trees and generally Jack-of-all-trades type stuff. We will see what comes of this. My objective is to be a servant, and to do what is needed to help her and to let the love of Jesus shine through me.

One quick observation that I will make is that I don’t think that you will hear me belly-aching any more about being cold as I was prone to do at my last place in the highlands. Since I am now in the southern hemisphere, the seasons are reverse from the northern. Although Bali only has two seasons – wet and dry (currently we are in the dry season) – because of the fact that we are in the southern hemisphere in June, we are now in the coldest months here. Nyoman was telling me that next month will be the coldest time of the year. Because of the altitude where I was, it got really cold after sunset, and I used two heavy comforters doubled at night, and was often still cold. Driving motor bike in the drizzle and foggy clouds was a real bear as well.

However, I can safely say that you will not hear me mention cold here at the coast – even in June and July. It is like

family vehicle - actually this is a small family. Often there can be up to five family members on bike

stepping back into Cd. Valles, Mexico, and I feel quite at home as the heat and humidity begin to dawn on me.

Actually, speaking about feeling at home – in many ways I find that Bali has some very close similarities to Mexico in other ways as well. The village life is very similar, as is the housing and living conditions of the average person. Like Mexico as well, where there is tourism there is a bubble of “gringo-related” activity. However, as soon as you get beyond the tourism-related industry the real people live in poverty. The houses, kitchens, garbage, animals in the yards and houses, and life-style is very similar and I feel very much at home in so many ways. The little village stores are also identical. Each vendor has a very limited supply of the basics scattered at random in a tiny hole-in-the-wall, probably attached to their house.

Further, if you would change the Hindu temples and mosques for Catholic idols and shrines to the Virgin of Guadalupe and the saints, and add many, many, many more, you would also have Mexico in a weird way.

ice cream cone vender

Of course, what is different is the millions of motor bikes on the roads. The road conditions and driving is the same here as in off-road Mexico. Since Theresa and my parents will most likely be reading this blog at some point, and since I don’t want my license to be revoked and my motorized freedom to be impinged upon, I won’t elaborate about the road and driving conditions here. However, let’s just say “I don’t think that we are in Kansas anymore Toto”.

Another little “fun wrinkle” to the whole driving experience was learning to drive on the “wrong” side of the road. To keep the explanations brief and to allow your imaginations to work, let me just say that my first “roundabout” or “traffic circle” could have been just a tad prettier. Old habits kick in when you need to make a snap decision as to what lane to get into when facing oncoming traffic. However, there was light traffic, and after some horn blowing, and some heart pumping excitement, I got things figured out a bit better. Now things seem quite natural, and I keep wondering what I will do when I hit America again.

Going back to what I mentioned about the many, many shrines and temples here on the “Island of the gods” – it is

whole new concept for nickle and dime store

almost unfathomable. As Paul so aptly stated in Athens, and which I quoted in my last blog – “All those idols! The city was a junkyard of idols”. I asked the young pastor (that I also mentioned in my last posting) how much he estimates that the average Balinese family spends of its income on religious Hindu worship and ceremonies. He estimated that something like 60% of all family income goes towards the demands of their Hindu religion. Not only are there the twice-daily offerings that need to be made for blessing which nickel-and-dime a family to death, but every household needs to have  its own family temple and shrines attached with the house. Then, each extended family unit needs a temple. Then each village area needs a much larger one. Then, each entire village needs a large temple for the village as a whole. Of course cities have many, and very elaborate ones as well. None of these temples and shrines are simple or cheap maters either, including the private, family shrines. Then, there is the family ceremonies, the village ceremonies, the ceremonies for blessings, for the keeping of vows, for blessings for births, and God forbid that a family member should die. A many-day funeral ceremony with its associated cremation will cost a family millions and millions of rupiahs to fulfill. (The basic wage for a field laborer is about 35,000 rupiahs per full day of labor – about $4.00 dollars).

Tell that to anyone who complains and chokes at giving a tithe of 10% – try 60% of all family income. The tragedy is that the Balinese are blinded by fear and tradition to their religion and to their gods and demons. I can say nothing about the Muslims or Buddhists here as I know nothing whatsoever about them. My only contacts have been Hindu – wonderful, loving, open and accepting in every way, other than that they are blind to the Truth.

Steve's bike ready to roll

Yesterday I met another young pastor at a little Christian church near where I will now be living. I will let you know what my impressions are of their little congregation after I attend on Sunday.

I suppose I had better finish my trip to my new “digs” and get settled in. I still have another half hour or so of driving with my overloaded bike to get there.

Good chatting, and thanks to all of you who do take the time to read these random thoughts as I send them off.

I still could use prayer for the speedy arrival of James’ visa. I am anxiously awaiting his arrival. Also, as I spoke of in my last post – may my life be a reflection of Jesus here in Bali in whatever form that is to take place. At the moment it will probably be with garden dirt under my finger nails.

Be blessed,

Steve

Today I will write a smattering of thoughts about the journey that I am on. First of all though, I had better do some explaining and updating of what I can possibly mean by all of that…

View of Bali

What you may or may not know, is that I am presently in Bali, Indonesia while Theresa is in Canada with our family and friends. The well laid out plan for the summer was that I would spend three months with my son James, assisting him with his Masters research as a part of his studies at the University of Manitoba. When I say “assisting” I am referring to my part which will consist of polishing his shoes, carrying his attaché case, cleaning up the dirty dishes, and in general, just being the “Man Friday” around the house. I have few delusions of my ability to have much input into his thesis study. Nonetheless, it was to be a father – son time together in a very unique setting.

Some plans have a tendency to change – “all of the best laid plans of mice and men” – as the saying goes. I purchased my ticket, insurance, set the dates, etc., and prepared to leave Winnipeg for Indonesia. James then found out from the Indonesian embassy that he could not indeed get his visa for the dates expected, but would have to wait indefinitely until the date of their leisure. The complicating factor for him is that he, unlike me, needs a research visa, whereas I on the other hand, simply required a tourist visa.

So a decision was needing to be made – should I try to change my tickets and go later, or should I go as was originally planned and arranged for. If I did change my tickets to later dates then I would not only take the financial hit, but I would also lose much of my time in Indonesia since I knew that I needed to return to Mexico by the beginning of September. I decided to go as planned, and wait for James in Bali. I felt that there were probably some things that I could do in Bali in preparation for his work anyway.

So I am in Bali, sitting on the floor in a little cyber renting computer space while young teenage boys are playing computer games around me and shouting and very exuberant about their games.

So, with that explanation out of the way, let me lay out a smattering of my thoughts about Bali.

I have found Bali to be a beautiful island with very loving and accepting people. The predominant religion here in Bali is Hindu, unlike the rest of Indonesia which is predominantly Muslim. The Balinese seem to be very open to any religion as there does not seem to be any mayor conflicts between the Hindu, Muslim, Buddhist, or Christian/Catholic faiths. They are extremely, and deeply rooted religious people. There are temples, ceremonies, offerings, demonic idols, and religious paraphernalia everywhere.

Hindu god

I have thought of Paul’s address to the Athenians many times (from Acts 17 – “The Message”):

…all those idols! The city was a junkyard of idols… Paul took his stand in the open space at the Areopagus and laid it out for them. “It is plain to see that you Athenians take your religion seriously. When I arrived here the other day, I was fascinated with all the shrines I came across… The God who made the world and everything in it, this Master of sky and land, doesn’t live in custom-made shrines or need the human race to run errands for him, as if he couldn’t take care of himself. He makes the creatures; the creatures don’t make him. Starting from scratch, he made the entire human race and made the earth hospitable, with plenty of time and space for living so we could seek after God, and not just grope around in the dark but actually find him. He doesn’t play hide-and-seek with us. He’s not remote; he’s near. We live and move in him, can’t get away from him! One of your poets said it well: ‘We’re the God-created.’ Well, if we are the God-created, it doesn’t make a lot of sense to think we could hire a sculptor to chisel a god out of stone for us, does it? God overlooks it as long as you don’t know any better—but that time is past. The unknown is now known, and he’s calling for a radical life-change. He has set a day when the entire human race will be judged and everything set right. And he has already appointed the judge, confirming him before everyone by raising him from the dead.”

It is so plain that the Balinese are deeply religious, as Paul described the Athenians. Yet they worship what they don’t know – their devotion is to the gods and demons which must be

appeased and pacified. It is these gods which bring luck, fortune, rain, good crops, money, health, etc., and which conversely keep away the evil which is always lurking just at the periphery.

Women Praying

My prayer is always “God, how can I be Jesus to these people”? “What is my role here on the island for the next couple of months”?  “Why am I here now so completely outside of the original plans for the summer”?

I have been unbelievably blessed many times while here. God has opened so many doors miraculously for me. If you know me at all, you will know that the last thing that I would want to do is hang out in the touristy areas of the island, nor indeed, be associated with tourists. I landed in Denpasar, as everyone must, and then decided to get out of Dodge as quickly as possible and head to places where I would not be bombarded with other orong pute (gringos) on a constant basis. I took local advice and ended up at a place called Kintamani in north eastern Bali. There, as I stepped out of the vehicle I was hit with the usual people trying to set me up in a hotel. I was unimpressed, and decided to try on my own. I struck out down the side of the volcano to a little village at the bottom which reportedly had a cheaper guest house. On the way down – a several mile hike – I was met by a man on a motor bike who stopped and asked if he could help me. I explained my needs, and he volunteered to take me to the little hotel, but said that he also had a place that he was renting. We negotiated prices, and were able to settle upon an agreeable price if I took it for a week.

The place ended up being wonderful, and I have taken it for a month. Nyoman and his wife and family have become very good and loving friends to me. They quickly incorporated me into their family and friends. I have become not only a guest, but a friend. I ended up renting Nyoman’s motor bike which gives me “wheels”, and I am now a mobile man with a beautiful place at the base of a volcano mountain and on the shores of a little lake high in the highlands of Bali. (Incidentally, all of this costs me $10.00 per day – the house and the bike. Food runs about one to two dollars per day, depending upon how I feel like splurging. Mind you, I am not “doing” any of the touristy restaurant stuff. Gas for the motor bike costs me about a dollar per day – maybe one fifty if I run the bike really hard for the day).

I mention this not to make you jealous, but to say that because of my friendship with my host family I have also been given the privilege of being invited to Hindu festivals with them. Shortly after my arrival with them there was a large Hindu village gathering, as well as family festivities and celebrations. I was loaned a sarong and headdress and other necessities for admission, and I became a part of the crowd. After the festivities and offerings I was invited to eat with them – to share the fruits and other foods offered at the ceremony. “Meats offered to idols”?

Party at my House

I have had to think often about Jesus over the past weeks. As I have already mentioned, my constant prayer is “How can I be Jesus to these wonderful people”?

I have a sneaking suspicion that if Jesus had been hanging around with the Pharisees and Sadducees, or the other religious and temple leaders of his day that he would never have received the scathing rebuke of “glutton and wine bibber”. On the other hand, Jesus seemed to delight in, and to make a point of not hanging around with the squeaky clean of his day.

I have had an interesting contrast here in Bali. As I have already mentioned, I have been loved by, absorbed into, and thoroughly embraced by my Hindu hosts. They are wonderfully warm and loving people. This has also happened to me when I have simply been walking down the streets of little towns. Earlier this week I was invited into the home of a young couple to share the afternoon with them. He is an English teacher in the small village and both university graduates. They live in a very, very simple and poor situation, supplementing his meager salary as a teacher with small-scale farming. They were open, warm, loving and very Hindu. We ended the afternoon by sitting around on their floor sharing a meal, eating with our fingers as is common and traditional here in Bali.

On the other hand, I was able to look up the location of several Christian congregations here in Bali by doing an internet search. I looked up one of the little congregations that meets in a village about a half hour from my place. I was received well enough, and sat through a service which might have been any “high church” service anywhere. The building looked like any “church” building anywhere with the standard Christian religious paraphernalia. The minister and other readers came replete with ornate robes, crosses and the full works. The hymns were sung in monotone with a bad accompaniment by a small keyboard. The order of service was stale and canned. There was no indication of the joy of the Holy Spirit evident at all. After the service was over I kind of stood around wondering what would happen. I was greeted warmly enough as people went past greeting each other – shaking hands – not Balinese at all. I was never invited out to anyone’s home, or to return, or anything. In the end I simply got on my motor bike and drove off.

I was saddened by the morning. In my mind I had to contrast what I saw there with what I am experiencing with my host family as well as the random striking of friendships along the way – the sitting around on the humble floors

Rice Farmer

and sharing a meal off of banana leaves. I left wondering if we somehow have put Jesus into the wrong package altogether. If I did not already love Jesus, if I were not a follower of the Way, if I did not already have the Holy Spirit of Jesus living in me, if I were not already in love with him and his people would I find what I saw offered, (and see offered everywhere in the name of Jesus) to be appealing? How can I say that the canned, dour package into which we have placed Jesus is a better alternative to my Hindu friends than what they already have? Don’t get me wrong – I do not in any way think, nor mean to imply that I think that their religion is right or correct. I accept completely Jesus’ words which state that He is the only way to the Father. There simply is no other way, like it or not. However, I strongly feel that the package into which we insist on putting Jesus is so very, very wrong.

If you did not already love him would you find the package appealing? Think about it honestly and with an open mind. Are we really representing the Jesus who the religious leaders felt compelled to accuse of being a glutton and wine bibber because he hung with, and honestly loved the sinners around him?

Soon I will probably be moving from my little “lake cottage” to the north side of the island. This again was one of the “God-orchestrated happenstances” in my life of late. I have been getting bored recently (as James stated, there is some irony in getting bored in paradise). Still, there is only so much exploring and poking that one can do, even if in paradise. So, as I have stated, I have been getting bored waiting for James to arrive. I went on line and began looking for NGOs (non government organizations) on the island that are within close distance to me, and where I may be able to volunteer and assist in some way while I wait. I came across a little work in the north side of the island which incorporates a clinic and village work. It is called Bali Crisis Care, and is run by a lovely elderly woman who is known as Mama Gloria.

Indonesian Child

Mama Gloria has been in Bali for many years and dearly loves the people. She is supported by only a handful of donors – mainly from Australia. She has put all of her own resources and money into the work. Bali Crisis Care is not a registered charity, and as such cannot give tax receipts. This fact has greatly reduced the number of people or organizations who will donate. Bali, like much of the world has made it impossible to import medicines from outside – from pharmacies who would do so for free. This means that all of the medications that she gives away at no cost, must be purchased by her here in Bali from the meager donations which come in to the work.

Mama Gloria is a woman of many, and probably all faiths. She explained to me that she has no definite religion, but that she believes in faith. Faith in good will come through in the end, and all good produces good karma and wins in the end.

I think that God may just be opening a door for me to work with her for the next couple of weeks. Sound strange considering what I have just said? Will it also be said of Steven that “he is a glutton and a wine bibber”?  Will it be moaned, “We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn”? I wonder. But then I wonder more – what would Jesus have done?

How should we then live? How do I show Jesus – how do I become Jesus in a world that does not know him. Do I insist on packaging Jesus in a container that is unpalatable to even the initiated, or do I “endanger myself” by becoming unsavory to the opinion of others who will be swift to misunderstand and raise the eyebrow of religion?

Ramblings perhaps – perhaps those of a madman – I don’t know.

Please pray that James’ visa comes through very quickly so that we can work together over the summer. Soon I must return, and if James’ visa does not come through soon my time with him will be very short. Please pray that I will hear Jesus’ voice while I am here in Bali. Pray that I will have opportunities to show the true Jesus to these loving, and wonderful people who are so bound in false religion and superstitious fear.

Thank you for being a part of what Jesus is doing around the world.

Blessings.