Kolkata, India, Jan. 15th, 2012.——

Well, here we are, unexpectedly awaiting our final connecting flight to Visakhapatnam from the iconic Kolkata, a place I never expected to see.  It’s been quite a journey so far.  Much has gone “wrong”, if that could be the word for it.  Our flights were star-crossed from the very beginning.  There was an unexpected, and largely unexplained, delay while we (Rob, Deb and I) were checking in at Toronto.  It seemed to be quite a complicated process to sort out our connecting flights.  It involved three separate people and a couple of supervisors, though we were assured by the exceedingly pleasant woman at the counter that all would be well.  I’m sure it will be well, however, they booked us onto a flight that wasn’t part of our itinerary because our second-leg flight from Delhi to Chennai was cancelled.  No one told us this, they simply gave us our boarding passes and sent us on our way.  We realized once in Delhi that our flights had been botched.  It was an amusing (slightly) moment when I took in the information that the flight that would take us from Delhi to Chennai and the flight from Chennai to Vizag left at exactly the same time.  Oh, and the acoustic guitar I brought along didn’t arrive in Delhi either.  I’m hoping that will resolve well, but I’m not pleased about that development.

Because of all the confusion, we never did get to make our way to the hotel that had been booked for us in Delhi.  We weren’t even allowed to leave the airport without the accompaniment of a staff member from our airline–all of whom were indisposed with other duties so that didn’t seem to be an option.  So we pulled an all-nighter in the Delhi airport terminal.  No rest for us.  Glad we didn’t actually pay for that hotel room.

The Delhi airport is the very pinnacle of modernity.  It’s clean lines and striking architecture are a study in urban design.  It offers a truly cosmopolitan experience, at least aesthetically.  The guards, armed with automatic rifles at every exit, were something of a stark study in contrasts for an India that in many ways can go toe to toe with any modern culture, and yet continues to live in social, economic and religious tensions that run deep and have been around for a very long time.  Being told that we were (more-or-less) not allowed to leave the airport made it something of a glorious prison.  It was an odd feeling, no doubt exacerbated by exhaustion and frustration.

Traveling internationally is particularly interesting because every airport/country and even region seems to have their own protocol regarding security and procedure.  Being polite in our ignorance seemed to be a good way to have people shuffle us along, whether in Brussels, Delhi or Kolkata.

Kolkata is quite something else altogether.  A profoundly different experience from Delhi.  Coming in over the city for landing afforded us a glimpse of this sprawling place.  Clusters of run-down, unadorned concrete structures grow like weeds on the landscape.    This city is enormous, and the show of modernity, so evident in Delhi, is nowhere to be seen here.  The airport here is, well, pretty much of the same ilk that we saw of the city during landing.  It is rundown and regional, very dirty in some regards, yet utterly fascinating and beautiful at the same time.  There are no trendy colours here.  No glimmer of sheik design sensibilities or even efficiency.  It is, however, an incredibly human place.  Where Delhi (the airport) was nearly flawless in design but seemed largely absent of the culture I’m certain must surround it, the Kolkata airport is simply alive with humanity and life.  The colours are bright, the smells are vivid, the horns are loud.  The drivers are crazed.  We wandered outside for a brief stroll (rules are different here) and I glimpsed INDIA for the first time.  This place has a exerted a force on me that is very interior in nature.  It is hard to define.  Again, the only word that comes near the mark is simply “human”.  I’m grateful for our unexpected diversion to this place.  I’m glad to be able to say I’ve been to this city.  Maybe I’ll be able to come again and linger longer.

This is still, in many ways, only day one.  This is only the journey, though as many have said, often the journey is the destination.

Right now we’re tired and disoriented.  I am physiologically confused (should I be tired or energized?  What hour is it?  Am I supposed to feel hungry right now?).  Truthfully though, I love this feeling.

The adventure has begun for us.  I won’t lie though.  I’m looking forward to the shower and bed and friends that await us in Vizag.  There are several hours and maybe a few unexpected turns before that however.

God bless you, India.  It’s nice to meet you.

These words have been echoing in my mind for several weeks now. I know there is an obvious application that we’d read into that, something along the lines of “Let everyone know that you are a Christian”, “Be unashamed of your faith”, etc. The problem is, none of the those stock phrases seemed to be enough of an answer to the directive to stand up and be counted.

Nope, those things might in included in the proper response, but they’re not the main thing, not even close. This is not simply “evangelistic”. This is far deeper.

Here are some questions that have come from these ponderings: Who do I belong to? Where do I belong? Where is my allegiance? What do I do with what I have been given? What do I do with what I can do?

Do you see how these questions are so much deeper than “What do I believe?” Standing up for what you believe isn’t the same thing as what I think we’re talking about here. No, the only way for us to truly stand up and be counted is to affiliate with, to live in, to fully be possessed by (owned by), the Kingdom of Heaven.

A census is basically a documentation of who lives where. It tells the powers that be who is a citizen of what nation, or kingdom. It tells them where you live. For some, that’s a scarry idea. Mark my words, we are called not simply to believe in the Kingdom of God, but to live in it. To be of it. To be marked by it.

I believe we’ve been issued a call to stand up and be counted, not mearly as believers, but as citizens of the Kingdom of Heaven. We’re going to be talking about what this means for some time to come. IF we get this, not just with our understanding but with our hearts and our lives, EVERYTHING WILL BE DIFFERENT.

Stay tuned.

This is a world of heartbreak. My friend, the friend and pastor of so many, died earlier this week. I went for a walk the other day and between tears these verses came to me. In honour of Rob Hall, who’s passion for music was as voracious as his passion for everything else.

And… Please consider donating to the fund to support his wife, Kate, and their three children, Kathryn, Simeon and Cameron. Right now, a substantial amount has come in, but we’d like to see this family taken care of for years. Their journey forward seems so insurmountable, but we can help. Please visit this site and donate, even $20.00 will make a difference. Help support them here. Thank you!

A Song for Rob

You have been friend and father
And faithful lover
And your reward will be written
In lifetimes to come

In the eyes of your children
The lives of your friends
And in the heart of the girl you loved
You loved so well

So together we raise up the banner
Of this life that you lived so well
And together we lift up our cups
And drink back this bittersweet stuff

Cause we can do you no better
Than to raise a joyful sound
As you enter the gates
of eternal praise

Even with our hearts filled
with this bitter draught
The overflow of tears
will yield such sweet fruit

Indeed. To all who follow the voice of Christ out of the pit of despair – into hope and the promise of new life – we utter those words.

In terms of “levels”, no I don’t buy it. I don’t believe that I’m a level 4 worshiper, while you’re maybe a level 2 and King David a level 10. We don’t graduate in that sense. But there is a depth and an understanding and a richness that exists and grows as our history with God grows. Our access to Him is unchanging regardless of our history with Him. A brand new believer is granted the same attention as the trusted old friend. We may come before Him. He will hear us. But the more we know of Him, the more we recognize all that there is to praise. The more history we have God, the more honest and tested our words and deeds become. For two teenagers recently in love, there can be power in the words “I love you.” There is poignancy in the phrase that invokes thoughts of Romeo and Juliet and radical passion and foolishness. However, there is sweetness and a certainty in the words when they are shared after decades of marriage. In the beginning, love is all about the future and shared excitement and optimism. Towards to end, it’s more a reflection on the history of the relationship.

Singing Bowl