Religious, but...

I have spent a good deal of time in the last few months trying to analyse what I should be doing with my life. I have burnt a few incandescents in the pursuit of clarity with Sandra. I have tried to identify what kind of influence on, and example I want to be for my daughter, (and my soon to be son-in-law).

I wish I could say I had the answers! But I have long given up waiting for the answer to be blowing in the wind, or written in the sky. I don't think that there is just one path that God has chartered for me. I reckon that God knows humanity well enough to understand that we like our choices, (tonight, it was ice cream or cream meringue). And as a result I think that God can cope with a multiple-choice pathway that will achieve God's purpose for me and others, and that will give me satisfaction, fulfillment - together with a good dose of challenge along the way.

What I am pretty sure about is that the answer is in giving yourself for others, because others matter. And that's probably,(as hard as it is for this emotion adverse Man to say) because love matters, and love is always God's default.

It was with these thoughts racing through my mind, that I was preparing to lead a faith discussion with a group of colleagues, Christians and Muslims, the other day and I drifted to a passage of scripture from the Bible (James 1:26-27) that challenged me, and as I am want to do, I rewrote it for myself. I shared this paraphrase with my colleagues, and together we spoke of how both the Quran and the Bible Challenge the people of the Book, people of faith, to be more than hearers, but people of action, people of acceptance, people of integrity and people of love.

I can look like a good example of a Christian man by working to alleviate the suffering of the poor; I can be an advocate on behalf of the voiceless; I can be an activist on the side of the marginalised and forgotten. But if, behind closed doors, I am unable to control my tongue, or my mind; if I am more wiling to perpetuate prejudice than practice partnership - then I'm lying to myself, and to you; my faith is shallow and worthless. Sure, I am religious, but my religion is nothing more than a veneer, and my example is a lie.

I think it matters most that I use the gifts God has given me, that I honour the investment others have made in me,(often at great expense to themselves) and that I be a person of integrity and love.

A House is Not Enough

20 years ago approximately 70,000 people fled from their homeland in the south-west of Azerbaijan because of a war that still holds their homelands captive. Nearest to the Armenian border is Lachin district, a mountainous region that, I am told, rivalled Switzerland in beauty. In days gone by, the people from this region bought their animals to Agjabedi during the winter, to a 11,000 hectare flat salt-bush plain which became known as Lachin Winter Feeding Grounds.


Today this area is home to 13,000 internally displaced people (IDPs), and the seat of the Lachin (in exile) provincial government representative. Over the last 20 years these people have formed themselves into 50 smaller communities that are spread out throughout the area. Arriving to nothing but barren deserted land, they built mud houses and began to farm cattle again - always with the hope that soon they would go home.


As I spoke with the Lachin "Governor in exile" (my title) and other members of the community, they all spoke of their hope that soon the political stalemate would be settled and they would go home. In the next week (or so) the President is coming to open 552 new homes that have been built for the IDPs. The Governor is extremely grateful for the government initiative, "but" he says, "a house is not enough. The people need good schools, health facilities, agriculture training and jobs." But as he says this, he presents me with a book showing off the beauty of Lachin and invites me to visit him in his homeland - when they return. 


It has been raining for the last few days, and it is starting to get cold. The ground is muddy, large areas of stagnant water separate the 'roads' from the houses, children are playing in the mud and the water because there is nowhere else. The houses are mostly mud brick with grass roofs. In seeming incongruity, next to many of them is a satellite television receiver and when I ask about this I'm told, "the local television is boring!"


Despite the obvious hardships, these out of the way, and often forgotten people are hopeful, generous and smiling. "What choice do I have," says one woman, "it's either commit suicide or do your best to survive and be happy!"


And I was just about to complain about the bone jarring, death defying, teeth rattling, white knuckle, headache inducing drive to visit the area. I decided to shut up!

Behind the Walls

It appears that where ever I go new walls are being erected. The interesting thing is the construction, because I suggest their may be some parallels to life!

Look at the construction, and, even to an untrained eye, you know it is not good. The brick work is messy; bricks are lined up instead of staggered, bits of brick are shoved in to fill holes, and you can often see through the mortar joins - there is no doubt that the walls are not structurally sound. But, then add a faux granite finish complete with raised decorations, grind it all smooth and and it looks quite beautiful.

These new walls are appearing along the sides of the road in all directions, hiding what is behind and making the entries to the city very appealing.

Yesterday I had the privilege of visiting the only disabled day care facility in the country. In 2001 a mum, whose son was disabled, started a small day care centre for children like hers. She wanted her son to be able to integrate into society as best he could. She wanted him to walk, she wanted him to be confident to talk, she wanted him to be free to be part of the community.

In 2003 the centre was registered as a business, and today, they can't provide enough places for those that would like to be enrolled. The bottom floor of a typical Russian block of flats has been renovated to meet the needs of about 45 children and youth who come here daily.

A little girl came unable to sit up or move, but after massages with parafin in a small 2 bed room, I was introduced to her as she sat proudly on a play mat and smiled at the strange man. A little boy came unable to speak, but after sessions with the speech therapist he is now telling his Mum he loves her.

Children from as young as they can, to young adults in their 20s attend the day care Art Therapy sessions and make pictures that are shown in exhibition and sold. But as one of the teachers told me their greatest joy is that the teenagers and young adults are now in the market, in the shops, and in the restaurants - they are free and confident to be involved in community.

The only thing stopping the spreading of this dream to other communities and children is the money and the institutional willingness. (This centre is supported by an NGO and a couple of very large local businesses.) Lives are being transformed here.