CLOCKwise!

The other day the goods that I had shipped from Dallas finally (after 3 months—but that’s another story!) got here. Books, books, (and a few more books) are on bookshelves. Pots and pans (for the gourmet cook that I am) are in cabinets. Clothes in closets. Pictures on the wall. And the clocks ….

Two of them decorate a wall in the living room of my flat. Two clocks. Two time zones. Greenwich Mean Time and U.S. Central Time. Aberdeen, Scotland, and Dallas, Texas. School and home.

It’s not just the peanut butter. Nor is it my now-sold house, or my garaged car. It’s not the blistering summers either, though I’ll take that any day to get away from the frigidity of this place.

Home is where my heart is, my family is, my friends are: the ones I’m accountable to, the ones I’m responsible for; the ones I pray for often, the ones I love. Brothers and sisters in Christ alongside whom many a battle has been fought, and with whom many a victory won. Where I know I am being prayed for, thought about, loved …. home!

Where I want to go ... soon ... home!

So … two clocks! One to keep me on time to go to school; the other to keep me in sync with “home”!

As I was putting these timepieces up, I couldn’t help but think of HOME—the Real One, where my mother is, where the saints of yesteryear are, where the ones I love will be, where I'm headed, where my “dwelling place” is, where there will no longer be any death, mourning, crying or pain, where my Savior is—the One who loved me and gave Himself up for me, so that it is no longer I ….

Two clocks. Temporal and eternal. Bound to earth, but heaven-bound. Two clocks.

Therefore if you have
been raised up with Christ,
keep seeking the things above,
where Christ is,
seated at the right hand of God.
Set your mind on the things above,
not on the things that are on earth.
For you have died
and your life is hidden
with Christ
in God.

Colossians 3:1–3

Two clocks. Straddling two time zones. Two places. Already, but not yet.

Hang in there. We’re going HOME … soon ... and very soon! Be CLOCKwise!

"CANINES!"

We call ourselves “The Dogs!”

That’s a rather odd name. Not that I have anything against the canine species, but that title did sound a bit pejorative when I first heard it.

These are the guys—I should say, rather, “we,” since I have joined the ranks of this beastly contingent—who, in the midst of a rather spiritually sterile academic atmosphere here in the School of Divinity, seek refuge together in the haven of prayer. Every Monday, the 6-10 of us (last week was a sparse one), congregate at Tom’s flat for fellowship, food, and much prayer.

We’re there at noon weekly, some with their sandwiches (others with our desserts—guess who brings what) (Hey! You ever tried Cadbury’s Milk Chocolate that comes in the Turkish Delight flavor? If you haven’t, you ain’t lived yet!!!). After about an hour of feasting and frolicking, we pray for one another.

Incidentally, the crowd is mostly American and entirely evangelical. Apparently that species of Christian is subject to some amount of disapprobation and disparagement in the environs of the School (what’s new?). This, I am told, explains the animalian appellation that we bear.

Dogs, indeed! Why, once upon a time, YHWH noted His appreciation of those who behaved like dogs! (See Judges 7 for more on this.)

It has been a joy to be a part of this bunch of guys. Wonderful to hear oneself being prayed for. A privilege to pray for one’s brothers. An honor to share one’s needs. A thrill to be bonded together in Christ, despite the obvious differences in our backgrounds, cultures, races, and ethnicities.

[That’s David next to me—DTS man; Robert—from Houston; Gregor—our token Scot; and Tom—who is Swiss-Filipino; others —from India, Nigeria, and the US—weren’t there that day.]

There is no doubt that God provides and provides abundantly. Wherever we might find ourselves stationed, God is faithful to keep us in community, within the tender care of His people and under the protective cover of the Body of Christ. And Aberdeen has been no exception for me.

I have more than I can ask for.

I said to the LORD,
“Thou art my Lord;
I have no good besides Thee.”
As for the saints who are in the earth,
They are the majestic ones
In whom is all my delight.”
Psalm 16:2–3

A hearty “Amen!” to those words of David—especially to that last clause.

May we never forget to thank God for our brothers and sisters in Christ.
Indeed, “How beautiful is the Body of Christ!”

ANCIENT!

The other day, while on my way to church with a friend, we passed by this unusual assemblage of stones on the side of the road. Noticing my quizzical eye, David commented, “Yes, that pile of rocks is as old as you, Abe.”

Now, I know I’m getting to a point where I’m developing considerable antique value, but I wondered aloud what he meant. We got out of the car and David pointed me to a tiny plaque almost completely hidden by the overgrowth of shrubbery.

Bieldside Cairn
This burial cairn is about 4000 years old
and was built by
prehistoric hunters and farmers.
It is protected by the Ancient Monuments Acts
and it is an offence to remove stones
or otherwise damage it.

“4000 years old! Gosh, that is indeed as old as Abe [not I, but my more illustrious Biblical forbear],” I exclaimed.

David agreed, noting wryly that his kids used to play atop it, when they used to live in Bieldside.

It is mind-boggling to look at and stand beside something today that might very well have have been around during the days of the patriarchs!

If there is one striking feature of this place—Aberdeen, Scotland, and perhaps all of the United Kingdom—it is its very evident age. Not that other places aren’t this ancient, but to live in such a land where artifacts such as this cairn attest to the presence of humanity in these locations for millennia, causes one to take an extremely realistic view of one’s own lifespan.

As for the days of ourlife, they contain seventy years,
Or if due to strength, eighty years,
Yet their pride is but labor and sorrow;
For soon it is gone and we fly away.
Psalm 90:10

Life is short, isn't it? Perhaps, for some, that is a reason for joy. In any case, we often wonder how we should watch the sand pour out of our hourglasses. How can we make our lives matter? What should we do with our time? How best can we utilize the brevity of our days?

Moses continued in his Psalm ...

So teach us to number our days,
That we may present to Thee a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12

May God help us, believers, to be wise with our time, utilizing our days, weeks, months, and years, to serve Him to the best of our ability, glorifying Him, furthering His Kingdom, and edifying His people, for the sake of Christ.

HOMEsick!

I was sworn in as an American citizen over a year ago, but the day before and the day after my swearing-in didn’t seem overly different from each other. Though I had been in the U.S. for about two decades at that point, I didn’t realize how much of the U.S. was in me, until I moved from that land. Maybe it was the loss of home and friends, used book stores and CD outlets, tolltags and taxes, dermatology and preaching, .... Maybe even the food. Correction: Definitely the food.

The week that I arrived in Scotland I paid my respects to the local purveyor of items grocery related, and picked up a jar of what appeared to be peanut butter—at least it was labeled as such. Even the brand had the look of the genuine article: it said “Route 66 Peanut Butter.” How much more American can you get?

Lots!

After consuming one spoonful of the aforementioned "stuff," I dumped the entire bottle. Woe was I! What kind of a land was I in, without peanut butter worth the name? I determined to catch the next flight home!

NOT!

Anyhow … today I was gifted an incredible treasure. (See picture of me in ecstatic bliss!) A fellow-American and fellow-PG in divinity—bless his kind heart; must be the DTS blood that runs therein—obtained a bottle of the precious commodity for me. Now, if you look carefully, the bottle says “SKIPPY.” Of you PB gourmands, I beg forgiveness. I know, I know, there ain’t nothin’ like JIF—the creamy sort, of course. But this poor beggar can’t afford to be a chooser. Gosh, I’d even settle for a bottle of Kroger’s (not that I’ve anything personal against that venerable chain).

Anyway, as I was saying, it was the feel of foreign soil that made me yearn for home. And as I write this, I remind myself that no matter where I am in this world, it is all foreign soil to me. For those of us who have placed our trust in Christ for our salvation, we can echo the sentiments of the apostle: “For our citizenship is in heaven” (Phil. 3:20). Those sparkles of God’s grace, those glimpses of heaven that we have from this side are what keep us yearning for Home, just as SKIPPY made me hanker for the good ole’ US of A. (I never thought I’d get to a point where I’d compare peanut butter to God’s grace, but I have. So there!)

Soon and very soon …. Until then, may God’s grace strengthen us all to keep on going.


By faith [Abraham] lived as an alien
in the land of promise,
as in a foreign land …
for he was looking
for a city
which has foundations
whose architect and builder is God.

Hebrews 11:9–10

FALL!

BRRRRR…..

(Need I say more?)

Visited a Church of Scotland institution this morning for worship—High Hilton Church. It is one of the more evangelical ones in the denomination. And quite international; apart from the fact that various ethnicities were represented, the sermon was delivered by a visiting pastor from Malawi (and just as he was ploughing his way through Isaiah, the poor guy’s cell phone went off—a preacher’s nightmare! Needless to say our man was mortified and never fully recovered from that tailspin!)

The fellow PG student who gave me a ride to church knew the minister, so the two of us managed to wrangle ourselves an invitation to Rev. Peter Dickson’s house for lunch. Peter and Eleanor are a delightful couple in their mid-thirties with two children, 10 and 11. Eleanor, believe it or not, has a Ph.D. in—of all things—immunology! So we hit off quite well! Plus, she makes a fabulous cheesecake. For those of you connoisseurs of that gastronomic pièce de résistance, this was a “bramble” (i.e., blackberry) cheesecake. The good folks out here don’t seem particularly concerned about calories, so this outstanding creation by Mrs. Dickson was served with ice-cream and (yes, “AND”) double cream (the British version of HEAAAVVVY whipping cream). Of course, I had two slices, washed down with a quart of the aforementioned lethal diary products. (I’ll die soon, but—hey!—I’ll die happy!)

Oh, and this you gotta hear to believe, and even then it will strain the limits of your credibility! I ran into another Indian in the church this morning. Another Keralite (from Kerala, my home state). Another physician—an endocrinologist. And—get this!—he’s related to me! My grandfather and his great-grandmother were siblings, which makes me, essentially, his uncle. I tell you, this is a small world!

Between the bramble concoction and stumbling upon my long-lost nephew, I think God is telling me to stick with High Hilton Church! ;-)

On the academic side, I had my first meeting with Prof. Watson last week; it went well and we are scheduled for another this week. He’s very amicable and indubitably well-versed in the field, with a comprehensive grasp of the relevant (and even the not so relevant) literature; I think I’m going to enjoy working with him.

God’s provision has been evident every step of the way. Friends, church, studies, …. He has yet to fail me! Therefore, I boldly trust Him for the future. Let us all do so—He’s worthy of our trust!

The steadfast of mind
You will keep in perfect peace,
Because (s)he trusts in You.
Trust in the LORD forever,
For in GOD the LORD,
we have an everlasting Rock.

Isaiah 26:3–4