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FROM
THE DIRECTOR
It now seems as far away as ever. The three months flew by, and while
it was not exactly the sabbatical I had dreamed of, it was certainly the
one I needed. Undoubtedly the highlight was my trip to Albania in early
October.
Previously I had been
involved with the European Evangelical Alliance in Sofia, facilitating a
consultation for leaders from throughout the Balkans. Their concern was
to begin to explore from a biblical basis issues of faith, culture and national
identity. This we did, drawing on material prepared by ECONI on Luke’s gospel
and using the Border Crossing Bible readings as a personal resource for
reflection and prayer.
This time I found myself
in Tirana, the Albanian capital. For three days pastors from all over the
country came together to address the challenges that continued to spill
over from the conflict in Kosovo. Most churches in Albania came into being
during the last decade and their leaders are young in the faith. Their zeal
for learning and for committed and costly action was humbling.
Among the many things
discussed was the relationship between church and government. During the
crisis a large part of the relief-directed aid for Albanian refugees from
Kosovo was done through the network of local churches. The stories of what
was accomplished during those days were awe-inspiring.
In this very act of
Christian compassion these churches, like many throughout the Balkans, found
themselves working in partnership with the government agencies who were
responsible for co-ordinating the response. For those with a memory of past
state opposition the transition was almost surreal. Previously held models
of church and its relation to wider society, particularly the process of
governing, were rapidly broken down. Inspired by a compassion for people
and a passion to demonstrate the relevance and reality of the good news,
many were compelled to take previously unheard of risks.
The prevailing political
situation is not all that it should be. Driving into Tirana from the airport
one cannot fail to notice the masked, armed and uniformed men who patrol
key intersections. The black market is the main focus of economic activity
and a disturbing sense of the lawlessness that had previously gripped this
land still pervades. One person commented that under communism people were
afraid in their homes but now they are afraid on the streets.
Elections were underway
and it was good to meet an Australian Christian who was using his training
to advise on due process. His enthusiasm for the potential for good was
only exceeded by that of the local Christians. The day after I left 200
people from local churches provided the ‘casualties’ in an emergency services
exercise, contributing to a network of civic involvement that is all too
absent throughout this region.
As I reflect on what
I learnt from my time with these wonderful people I cannot help being impressed
by the way their faith determines their perspective on the demanding situation
they face. Confronted with calls to be loyal to their own, they serve the
refugees in their midst, yet are committed to reach out to Serb brothers
and sisters, demonstrating what is possible in Christ. Invited to share
in responsibility for helping the country through a difficult time of transition,
they set aside their all too legitimate fears, enthusiastically embracing
the opportunity to show that Jesus cares.
While sitting in an
office in Tirana I browsed through copies of the Evangelical Fellowship
of India’s magazine, which I had not read for several years. The current
attacks on churches and Christians in India were openly addressed in terms
that should, equally, cause us to take stock. In the face of hostility Christians
were being exhorted to ensure that biblical faith informed their response,
taking care to give no offence and to tone down the ‘spiritual warfare’
language that easily inflamed. Attitudes, actions and words were being submitted
to the test of grace in order to express the love of Christ for all, despite
the reality of physical and spiritual opposition.
Compared to the position
of Christians in many parts of our world like Albania or India, the church
in Northern Ireland is in a privileged place. Yet why do I sense that many
of us don’t see it that way? Is something other than faith a perspective
determining our response to the current situation? Did we really expect
that the journey from long war to long peace would be easy?
Of course the Belfast
Agreement is far from perfect. Equally the transition period is difficult,
fraught with moral ambiguity and political fudge. There are many things
about which to be concerned. But are they sufficient cause for the deep
angst that has taken hold in our churches?
Many of our anxieties
are legitimate and arise from deep uncertainties at the heart of the peace
process. But is it a faith-filled response to declare the situation hopeless
by our apathy, or to view the structures of government and policy making
as beyond redemption by our cynicism? Are we really demonstrating kingdom
living by our failure to listen to, understand and work with the other tradition
by facing up to the reality of our differences and the deep hostility that
still infects our relationships?
At times it seems we
fail to see how far we have come. As I was reminded recently, the journey
from oppression in Egypt took Israel through the wilderness and, even then,
settling the promised land took several generations. There were some for
whom the certainty of slavery in Egypt was preferable to the desert, and
the routine of the desert preferable to the challenge of giants in the land!
In May I will be attending
the general assembly of the World Evangelical Fellowship. The majority of
delegates will be from countries where their relationship to government
and wider society is anything but comfortable. Experience tells me that
once again I will be challenged by their passion for the good news that
transforms. We, too, can share in a passion that expresses itself in bold
acts of grace, love and the faith-filled adventure of living as salt and
light in a dark and corrupt world.
David
Porter
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