David Ford's Blog
Flies or Mosques?
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Flies or mosques?
The Spanish for mosque sounds like the word for fly. When speaking about Islam, students love to try and trick me into saying fly, and then roar with laughter. Every day you’re reminded that you’re a foreigner.
But it’s a busy time for some of the students. As the semester closes, they have to get their theses in. This year, I’ve three groups to supervise. One is on how Jesus suffered in his death and what lessons there are for suffering Christians in Colombia. A second group, of Pentecostalists, is working on Calvin’s teaching on the Holy Spirit and comparing it with their own church’s doctrine. Finally, one student is looking at why the oldest church in the city, the Presbyterian, has grown so little in its 125 years’ existence.
Although we’re foreigners, we want to help Christians understand how the Bible, theology and evangelism works.
And it’s an honour, even if our help is fly-sized.
Do We Dream Enough?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Do we dream enough?
This half-semester, I’m teaching History of Israel: New Testament. It’s an introduction to Jesus’ world: culture, history, literature and so on. We started off with a virtual tour of Palestine. At the end of the class, the student rep asked if he could say something. This sometimes happens and concerns internal student affairs. Today was different: “Let’s have the dream of going on a class trip to Israel”, he said. Now the rep is sincere and Christ-like, but poorer than a church mouse (the mouse doesn’t owe Seminary fees). So us realistic souls just smiled, packed away our books and had something amusing to tell our wives. Two days later, in a shopping centre, I saw pictures of Israel, placed by a group of students who’d come back from a visit. They’d been funded by an Israeli-Colombian association.
Today, I let the students know about the funding, and recharged my practice of faith.
Saint Paul and the Minibus
Monday, October 05, 2009
It was the mid-semester break, so we decided to have a couple of days away from the city. These kind of trips give me butterflies in my stomach: you’re not sure of where you’re going, where you’ll stay, nor how safe it’ll be.
We arrived at the bus terminal where buses and the like aggressively tout for travellers, trying to persuade you to buy a ticket to who-knows-where. We got a small bus for Guatapé (pronounced Guah-ta-pay), which soon filled up and then someone got on with 35 buckets. The area we headed for is renowned for its lakes, granite monolith and the ex-home of that most infamous drug baron, Pablo Escobar.
After 2 hours we were the last people on the bus and arrived in a small town, which was hot and deserted. Feeling somewhat conspicuous, we walked to the main square, sat in a shaded restaurant and enlisted the waiter’s help. Things worked out really well and we soon got a quiet hotel room overlooking the waters.
The locals were welcoming, more so than we’ve found elsewhere in Colombia, but it was still a relief to get home safely. It makes you wonder how the apostle coped with all his journeying. But maybe that was one of his gifts.
