Short answer: Yes.
And the rest of the story....
Nathan and I are about to wrap up a 3 month stay with a church family in Mallorca (minus a few trips to the important B's: Burgos, Barcelona and Berlin).
When we arrived we didn't know what to expect. Our pastor here, Andrew, and his wife, Vivienne, tend to be modest people, so they 'failed' to tell us just how much love and growth is going on in this humble, healthy church family.
And adding to the mystery was Mallorca's reputation for being a bit of a party island. It's (unfortunately) renowned as a place that the Brits and the Germans come to if they want to spend a week drinking, dancing and generally degrading their lives -- to regrettable excesses.
So one would wonder -- is there life on Mallorca? Is there any chance for truth and growth on an island 150 miles off the coast of Spain?
It seems a silly question (God can do all things!), and yet we've heard not just a few tales of people coming to this island thinking that they would not find a church family, thinking they might be the only Christians in this place ... And to be honest, we had no idea what to expect, either. We, like many others, wanted to serve the church, but also thought we'd have a great chance to see the island, relax and head to the beach.
We were in for a surprise. We found out there's life on Mallorca. There is a thriving church family here, and we had the privilege to be a part of it. From our first week here with an overwhelming welcome from the church family, all the way through to our final days here, we have received the kind of love that shows God to be who he claims to be -- a God of love, of faithfulness, of power and of truth. This church family is living, breathing proof that God works in all places and through all people who love him and value the teaching and preaching of his Word -- The Bible. He is at work here.
And so we prepare to leave this place. And it is a sad moment! We keep saying to ourselves how excited we are to return to the States, to our families and our church and all that God has given us. And it's all true! Yet we can't help crying when the reality of leaving this church family hits us. There will be many tears this weekend (probably mostly mine), but they will stem from a genuine joy, because we know that God is at work in this place, in these people and we know we will no longer be actively amongst them in this journey.
Thank you for your prayers for us. And even more, thank you for your prayers for this church. It is a bright light in a dark place. Let's keep praying that God would make this light to shine even more brightly, with unity, and truth, and joy and courage.
Brooke (+ Nathan)
Friday, December 4, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Spanish Beauty
A Spanish highway sounds just like any other. Perhaps another motorocyle or two. But, it's the truckers in this country who know how to eat. If you see a man with dust on his boots, follow him to lunch. I did. Their they put snails in my soup, again. They call it arroz brut, and that it is. For the second time I endured it, and then I realized, remembered, reminisced: this is how tastes are acquired. Yes, I think I like Spain.
Friday, October 23, 2009
ni ton ni son
There was no intention to be absent, merely an intention to do many other things first. Here is a little moment to write. The rains have come, again. We were in Burgos, and in Bilbao, and in Barcelona in the last weeks, among pit-stops in Palma. These were our plans from the beginning.
Ernest Hemingway wrote, “In Spain you could not tell about anything.” We are living that life to a small degree, everyday. The woman in the bakery snapped at us when we asked to purchase one, just one, cookie. “No!” she scolded. You buy 100g worth, or you buy none at all. We bought none at all, and she was the richer for it.
Ni ton ni son. A little phrase that works itself into many situations. I even read it on the wall in the Picasso museum. It's meaning: without rhyme or reason. Once you understand this method, things lighten up considerably, here.
Here is a poem I like.
Of Mere Being
The palm at the edge of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
Wallace Stevens
…
Ernest Hemingway wrote, “In Spain you could not tell about anything.” We are living that life to a small degree, everyday. The woman in the bakery snapped at us when we asked to purchase one, just one, cookie. “No!” she scolded. You buy 100g worth, or you buy none at all. We bought none at all, and she was the richer for it.
Ni ton ni son. A little phrase that works itself into many situations. I even read it on the wall in the Picasso museum. It's meaning: without rhyme or reason. Once you understand this method, things lighten up considerably, here.
Here is a poem I like.
Of Mere Being
The palm at the edge of the mind,
Beyond the last thought, rises
In the bronze decor,
A gold-feathered bird
Sings in the palm, without human meaning,
Without human feeling, a foreign song.
You know then that it is not the reason
That makes us happy or unhappy.
The bird sings. Its feathers shine.
The palm stands on the edge of space.
The wind moves slowly in the branches.
The bird's fire-fangled feathers dangle down.
Wallace Stevens
…
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Our people die well.
We saw the memorial of a man having finished dying.
His eulogist, who was his doctor, told that the sarcoma took over and took down the whole body. Who is worthy to break these seals of death, to open this closed scroll? But, this was not a eulogy of the body, nor even of its deeds. It was a eulogy of the soul. Joy was with the doctor. A beloved had gone home, a beloved, joyful to the last. Christology. Christology so comforting. Christology made so plain and real. All of this, undone! Then a quiver in the doctor's voice: this soul, this man, now at the right hand of the Father. O, longing to be there! The tremble in the voice. The tremble of hopes deferred, but for a moment. A glimmer of longing, that shone in the welling of tears in the doctor's eyes. But for a moment. The doctor's soul even leaping to join them, leaping to join them, the child so close but in the womb, yet in the womb. But for the moment.
The doctor said: "'Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals." '
And we are worshipping.
Centuries ago, on another occasion, a doctor observed to John Wesley, "Most people die for the fear of dying; but I never met with such people as yours. They are none of them afraid of death, but calm, and patient, and resigned to the last."
Wesley boasted, "Our people die well." For all of us who live so poorly that we must die: let us die well! Let us die in hope. Let us die in Christ, even now, that when we die then, we may live, as we have already done.
N +(B)
His eulogist, who was his doctor, told that the sarcoma took over and took down the whole body. Who is worthy to break these seals of death, to open this closed scroll? But, this was not a eulogy of the body, nor even of its deeds. It was a eulogy of the soul. Joy was with the doctor. A beloved had gone home, a beloved, joyful to the last. Christology. Christology so comforting. Christology made so plain and real. All of this, undone! Then a quiver in the doctor's voice: this soul, this man, now at the right hand of the Father. O, longing to be there! The tremble in the voice. The tremble of hopes deferred, but for a moment. A glimmer of longing, that shone in the welling of tears in the doctor's eyes. But for a moment. The doctor's soul even leaping to join them, leaping to join them, the child so close but in the womb, yet in the womb. But for the moment.
The doctor said: "'Do not weep! See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed. He is able to open the scroll and its seven seals." '
And we are worshipping.
Centuries ago, on another occasion, a doctor observed to John Wesley, "Most people die for the fear of dying; but I never met with such people as yours. They are none of them afraid of death, but calm, and patient, and resigned to the last."
Wesley boasted, "Our people die well." For all of us who live so poorly that we must die: let us die well! Let us die in hope. Let us die in Christ, even now, that when we die then, we may live, as we have already done.
N +(B)
Friday, September 18, 2009
How Homonymous
The palm in Palma comes from the Latin palma meaning palm, as in the front of the hand. This homonymous people I believe then planted palms all over the island to confuse and invite the world to their paradise. But it isn't the whole world. Brooke turned to me today and asked if I had met or heard (or possibly 'seen') an American since we arrived. I hadn't. Neither had she. This may be the most international scene either of us have ever been to, excepting New York and London. But unlike the culture capitals, there seems to be one glaring exception to this experiment in multiculturalism - there are no Americans here.
So I thought I'd take a few minutes and focus in on these details - what does a world with no Americans look like?
Generally thin. I mean that in every sense of the word. Perspective and ambition are as confined as waistlines here. That's just flippant. But in truth, there are fewer smiles, softer voices, longer hair (for men), tighter clothes (for both), a common sense of personal limitation and situational definitions (I am and will only be what I was born into). Provincialism marks the urban. The children have rebelled in style and in their plunge into secularism, but they aren't going anywhere else. There is a bar, a kind of "local" to the British reader, on the base level of nearly every apartment building in Palma, each depressing and crowded with old men in the evenings. I suspect the men sit around in these haunts, doused in flashing gambling-machine lights and ridiculous blue posters of people eating ice cream, because that's what they're expected to do. Only they could fulfill that role, they think. That's what their fathers did, and their fathers before them (no blue posters of people eating ice cream, though). No foreigners make it in those haunts. Even if one tried, even he got the language or the accent or the idolotrous lust for football into his blood and onto his expression, he'd still be only that - a foreigner. The only person who could ever be a Spaniard, is a Spaniard. All this is very unAmerican.
And the bell just rang. The library now closes. Off to dinner, in a restaurant.
N + (B)
So I thought I'd take a few minutes and focus in on these details - what does a world with no Americans look like?
Generally thin. I mean that in every sense of the word. Perspective and ambition are as confined as waistlines here. That's just flippant. But in truth, there are fewer smiles, softer voices, longer hair (for men), tighter clothes (for both), a common sense of personal limitation and situational definitions (I am and will only be what I was born into). Provincialism marks the urban. The children have rebelled in style and in their plunge into secularism, but they aren't going anywhere else. There is a bar, a kind of "local" to the British reader, on the base level of nearly every apartment building in Palma, each depressing and crowded with old men in the evenings. I suspect the men sit around in these haunts, doused in flashing gambling-machine lights and ridiculous blue posters of people eating ice cream, because that's what they're expected to do. Only they could fulfill that role, they think. That's what their fathers did, and their fathers before them (no blue posters of people eating ice cream, though). No foreigners make it in those haunts. Even if one tried, even he got the language or the accent or the idolotrous lust for football into his blood and onto his expression, he'd still be only that - a foreigner. The only person who could ever be a Spaniard, is a Spaniard. All this is very unAmerican.
And the bell just rang. The library now closes. Off to dinner, in a restaurant.
N + (B)
Blast to the past: The first few days...
Hola from Brooke!
Since we were quite slack in setting up our blog before we arrived, here's a little entry to give some perspective on our first few days in Palma, taken from a few emails I managed to send off. Also some pictures...
Day One thoughts:
9. Sept. 2009
Hello dear friends and family,
Just a very quick note to let you know that we arrived safely in Palma yesterday night. Andrew and Vivienne Birch were waiting for us at the airport, all of our bags arrived in good order, and we went for a little tapas before falling into bed for about 12 hours of sleep.
The flat is wonderful. Nothing fancy, but it has a big kitchen and 4 bedrooms and a terrace, too! We spent today wandering around the downtown area of Palma, and Vivienne and Andrew took us to meet the members of an English speaking Bible study group. Most of the members were British, with the exception of one German woman. They were all very welcoming and should be some good friends during our three months in Palma.
In case you haven´t received it, our address is
Sres. de Santamaria
C/. Ortega y Gasset, 15 - 2.º
07008 Palma de Mallorca
(Illes Balears)
SPAIN
And our phone number is (34) 971 471 401. 39 is the country code, so from the States you´d dial 011 34 971 471 401. Also, Nathan´s new cell is (34) 672 746 723.
We are about to sit down for a dinner at the Birch´s home at 10pm!! :) It really is a different pace of life!
Much love to you all, and we´ll be in touch soon!
Brooke and Nathan
P.S. Bequi, you´re famous in Palma! The Birches knew your father. Made me miss you much!
13 Sept.
Hi there!
Finally got back online today. It has been such an interesting experience so far, meeting lots of Brits and Latin Americans. We've been hosted for dinner EVERY night we've been here -- 5 nights in a row. The church is just incredibly welcoming and alive. It's inspiring to see people loving and serving one another (and guests!) so well.
We already have a busy week planned next week, including helping out at the second-hand clothing shop they have at the church and meeting up with loads of people from the church. Nathan will be meeting up with two teenage boys who want to be discipled, so they are going to read a book together. I am hoping to get started on some Spanish lessons with a lovely Argentinian gal who just got married to a British guy about 4 months ago. And all that is really just the tip of the iceberg.
...
So that's it for now. I'll let Nathan do an update on this week... Please keep us and the church in your prayers (http://www.iglesiapalma.com/). (As you can see from the picture, we meet in a very old building.)
Love to you all!
Brooke (+ Nathan)
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