Final final post from Paris

I had not intended to post anything after my final post from Paris, but I heard a great illustration regarding the French that I thought was worth sharing.

While in Lyon, I met an American Christian couple who study and work in the city.  I asked them how they had found the process of integrating into French culture, as foreigners (and particularly as Americans).  Their astute assessment was that Americans are like peaches, whereas the French are like coconuts.

With a peach, the outside is soft and very easy to penetrate.  Meet Americans and you have an instant openness and rapport.  We hardly know you; but sure, come over to dinner tonight, bring your family with you! However, once you quickly get through the soft exterior of the peach, you find that the core is rock solid.  According to my American friends, Americans are like that.  It is relatively easy to make “buddies”, but much harder to form deep, personal relationships within which (for example) one can talk openly and seriously about things of real importance.

With a coconut, the outside is practically impenetrable.  To get through the shell, you need a drill or a hammer (or in this instance, a lot of love)!  However, once you get through the shell, the inside is completely open.  The French can be very much like this.  Your relationship begins by addressing each other as vous.  If and when a person decides to say, tu peux me tutoyer (you can use tu and toi with me), the relationship becomes a bit closer.  (A lot of French young people are a bit more peach-like in this regard and use tu et toi from the beginning though).  That said, you can still be tapping on the outside of the coconut for a long time before you find yourself in the open space inside.

It is a great illustration.  It made me think of the last time I made the effort to get into a (literal) coconut.  I wanted its milk and flesh for a thai green curry.  I had to saw through the coconut to get into it.  It was a lot of work but my goodness, it was worth it.  Thai green curry with fresh coconut milk and flesh is far, far better than thai green curry straight from a jar.

Sometimes the best things are worth the effort.

Final post from Paris

1 My time in Paris is almost finished. I have now finished my language course, passed some exams and obtained a diploma in la langue français, which is nice! This month has been a tremendous learning experience. Total immersion is by far the best way to learn a language. That said, it has been a tiring way to spend my summer holidays, and I will be glad to get home to the world of Gaelic and English.

2 At the weekend, I took a trip south to visit Lyon, where my friends Alex and Suzanne Sarran live. Alex is the pastor of the Église Réformée Évangélique de Lyon, which is a very exciting French church plant. I loved being there on Sunday. They have la Sainte Céne (communion) every Sunday! That’s what I call Calvinism!

It was great to spend time with some dear friends and finally get to visit Lyon. If Paris is France’s (much more beautiful) London, Lyon is its Edinburgh: big, but not enormous; culturally diverse whilst retaining its national identity. An Edinburger can feel quite comfortable there.

Alex is exactly the kind of guy Free Church (and Scottish) Christians should be interested in. He has the great gift of being 100% Scottish, which makes you a blessing whichever country you are in. As such, he is one of our own; Scottish Christians should be praying for his work.

In addition, he has the huge privilege of being 100% French, which is a huge asset in Francophone church planting.

3 I have been fascinated by the response I have received when I tell French people that je suis écossais. They really love us! Eh tu es écossais! Super! I had anticipated this with the Breton people, as we are fellow Celts and speak related languages. Breton people feel a very close kinship with the Welsh, Irish and the Scots; and when you tell them that you can actually speak Gaelic, they love you even more. Interestingly, some missionary friends were telling me that Welsh missionaries (who speak Welsh, which is very similar to Breton) have historically had far more success in Brittany than French missionaries.

What I had not anticipated, however, was that the non-Breton French also seem to love les écossais. The French feel strongly that they will not be the poodle of any greater empire. Perhaps they like the Scots because we are not a big, culturally threatening imperalistic force? Je ne sais pas.

A few people had told me beforehand that a lot of French people would simply assume that I was English, and that they would be a bit clueless as to the difference. However, I have yet to meet anyone like that in Paris, Nantes or Lyon.

4 When I was in the British school system, someone had the bright idea that we did not actually need to be taught English grammar; the idea being that we would simply acquire English by virture of living in the UK. True, we did learn English and can speak with decent grammar… but ask us to explain how our language works (or try to teach us how another language works) and there are big problems. For example, when I was at the Free Church College, our first week of New Testament Greek was taken up with learning English grammar. We were all university graduates, but none of us knew it well, and without knowing English grammar, learning Greek is impossible.

Ask your typical Brit, can you tell me how the subjunctive works? and he, if he is aged thirty or under, will have no idea what “the subjunctive” is. He has probably never heard the word before. My experience of the French has, thus far, been the exact opposite. A few times, in cafes, parks and on public transport, I have asked the person next to me for the meaning of a French word (while reading a book or newspaper) and have received amazing explanations of the intricacies of French grammar.

That said, while the French know their own grammar, they nonetheless admit that they are not great when it comes to learning other languages.

5 At the weekend, I had my first dream in French. It was weird. In the dream, I was in a church and met a man who was looking for a woman called Evita. The man was English (and spoke with a Midlands accent) and he was asking me (in English) if I knew Evita, where Evita was etc… In the dream, I answered everything he asked, but in French rather than English. C’était vraiment bizarre.

6 I will miss a lot of things about life here. I will miss the pioneer church plants (which is something we need far more of in Scotland) and the general sense of purpose in these churches. France does not like the gospel; life is really hard for pastors here. Ministry is an uphill struggle, and to engage and sustain a ministry here, you need a clear sense of call, a well defined awareness of what you are doing (and why) and abundant reliance on the God of the gospel.

I have been amazed in the presence of faithful French pastors. I have also felt not a little ashamed when I see their spiritual vitality (in challenging conditions) which far outshines my own. I have realised that spiritually I am unfit and flabby - these guys are the real spiritual soldiers. They work hard in difficult contexts.

Faith grows during persecution - and France is a land of persecution. The result is some very winsome, Christ-like pastors in this great nation. I have been privileged to meet people whose victors’ crowns, on the Last Day, will shine far more brightly than my own.

I will also miss being able to speak French with everyone. It is a wonderful language (and one so accessible to native English speakers… why don’t more of us learn it?) and I am thoroughly enjoying the chance to see the world through French linguistic glasses.

Needless to say, I will miss the quality of food and wine, and with that the general appreciation for culture and the arts. France is such a strange cocktail of the incredibly good (beautiful country and language, culture, lifestyle etc) and the unbelievably bad (the spiritual deadness and darkness). For the former, God clearly showers much common grace on France and the French. With the latter, I pray that God will shower special grace on France and redeem this magnificent nation.

Que Dieu bénisse la France beaucoup!

La souris est vraiment sous la table!

Last night, I was reading a novel in a cafe in Montparnasse.  In the corner of my eye, I saw something move by my foot.  Almost unbelievably, I was in France and there was actually a mouse under the table.  I took a minute to realise what had happened - I was in a sitution where I could say la souris est sous la table!  The most seemingly useless, basic schoolboy French phrase was about to become useful.

When I was a little less stunned, I called the waiter over and said to him,

Excusez-moi monsieur, mais il y a deux minutes, il y avait une souris sous la table.

(Excuse me, two minutes ago there was a mouse under the table).

His reply was the perfect picture of French nonchalance:

Oui, il y’en a beaucoup à Paris.

(Yes, there are a lot of them in Paris).

With that he walked off, utterly unflustered, and I burst out laughing.  In my last week here, I am desperately looking for opportunities to say le singe est sur la branche (the monkey is on the branch) and la chat est sur la chaise (the cat is on the chair).  Perhaps trips to some pet shops and the zoo are in order.

Michael Jackson to receive honorary degree from Edinburgh University…

At least, that is what I thought when I read the headline on BBC News:

Honorary degree for moon walker

Disappointingly, it is another kind of moon walker.

Some statistics

Some statistics from the PCA General Assembly, comparing things between 2007 and 2006:

-Churches and missions number 1,666 – an increase of 27
-Total professions of faith number 10,201 – 415 fewer than 2006
-Total membership numbers 342,041 – an increase of 3,168
-Per capita giving is $2,517 – an increase of $134

It would be interesting to see the same comparison done in the Free Church.

Oran na Cloiche air Earranan

S caomh leam ciamar a tha a BhBC a deanamh barrachd programman Gaidhlig a nis.  S doch’ gu bheil sin ’son gu bheil channel ur Gaidhlig a toiseachadh am bliadhna (no an ath-bhliadhna?)  Feumaidh iad torr a bharrachd stuth, so tha mise an dochas gum bith sinn a faicinn torr programman Gaidhlig eile.

Tha programme ur Gaidhlig air an iPlayer an drasda - Earranan.  Tha mi direach air a choimhead, bha e gu math inntinneach.  Anns a phrogramme an t-seachdainn seo, tha Kathleen MacInnes a seinn ‘Oran na cloiche’, ach a deanamh version nas slaodaich na rinn i air a chlar aice.  Direach alainn!

Tha ‘Oran na cloiche’ le Domhnall Ruadh Paislig, agus tha e mu dheidhinn nuair a thog cuid oileanaich ‘the Stone of Destiny’ bho Sasainn gu Alba.  Choinnich mi te de na h-oilenaich uaireigin, ach s e sgeul eile a tha sin!  Co-dhiu, seo na facail, comhla ri eadar-thangachadh Beurla.

A’ Chlach a bha mo sheanmhair	The Stone that my grandmother
‘S mo sheanair oirre seanchas	And grandfather used to talk about
Air tilleadh mar a dh’fhalbh i	Has returned as it left
Mo ghalghad a’ Chlach	My brave Stone
‘S gur coma leam i ‘n Cearrara	And I don’t care whether it’s in Kerrera
An Calasraid no ‘n Calbhaigh	Callendar or Calvay
Cho fad’ ’s a tha i ‘n Albainn	As long as it’s in
Nan garbhlaichean cas	Steep, rugged Scotland
Sèist:	Chorus (after each verse):
‘S i u ro bha ho ro hilli um bo ha	‘S i u ro bha ho ro hilli um bo ha
Hilli um bo ruaig thu i hilli um bo ha	Hilli um bo ruaig thu i hilli um bo ha
‘S i u ro bha ho ro hilli um bo ha	‘S i u ro bha ho ro hilli um bo ha
Ga cur an àite tearmainn	To be put in a place of refuge
A chumas i gu falachaidh	Which will conceal it safely
‘S nach urrainn iad, nach dearg iad	So that they can’t, they won’t manage to
Air sgealb dhith thoirt às	Remove a single fragment of it
A’ Chlach a chaidh a dhìth oirnn	The Stone that was lost to us
Air faighinn às an ìnean	Prised from their grasp
‘S gu deimhinne, ma thill i	And certainly, if it has returned
Tha ‘n nì sin gu math	That’s a very good thing
Mionnan air fear deàrnaidh	Let us swear by our hand
Gach màthair is mac	Each and every one of us
Nach leig sinn ann an gàbhadh	That we will allow nothing to endanger
Am fear a thug à sàs i	The man who unloosed it
‘S a mhiontraig air a teàrnadh	And dared to rescue it
À àite gum tlachd	From an unpleasant place
Ma chuireas iad an làmh air	If they lay hands on him
Chan fhuilear dhuinn bhith làidir	We’ll need to be strong
Is buill’ thoirt air a thàillibh	And strike a blow for him
Le stàilinn amach	Using steel
‘S bha ‘m Ministear cho tùrsach	The Minister was so sorrowful
Sa mhadainn nuair a dhùisg e	When he woke that morning
‘S praban air a shùilean	His eyes bleary
A’ tionndadh a mach	As he turned out
E coiseachd feadh an ùrlair	Walking the floor
Ag ochanaich ’s ag ùrnaigh	Sighing and praying
‘S a’ coimhead air a’ chùil	And looking at the nook
Anns an d’ ionndrainn e Chlach	Where he’d found the Stone missing
Sin far robh an stàireachd	There was much pacing
‘S an ruith air feadh an làir ann	And running ’round the floor
Gun smid aige ri ràidhtinn	And all he could say was
Ach “Càit ‘n deach a’ Chlach?	“Where did the Stone go?”
‘S a Mhoire, Mhoire, Mhàthair	And, “By the Holy Mother
Gu dè nì mise màireach	What will I do tomorrow
Tha fios a’m gum bi bhànrainn	I know the Queen
A’ fàgail a beachd”	Will be beside herself”
Gun tuirt e ’s dath a’ bhàis air	Said he, looking deathly pale
“Cha chreidinn-sa gu bràth e	“I’d never have believed
Gu togadh fear bho làr i	It could have been raised from the floor
Nach b’ àirde na speach	By someone no bigger than a wasp
Tha rudeigin an dàn dhomh	Something is to happen to me
‘S gun cuidicheadh an tÀgh mi	And Heaven help me
Bha’ n duine thug à sàs i	The man who unloosed it
Cho làidir ri each”

Piper: “Don’t waste your pulpit”

Also if there was an award for the best thing on a blog anywhere, it would go to Iain MacKinnon for coming up with this picture of Gordon Matheson, the Jedi Rev.  S math a rinn thu, Iain!  Bravo.

Twin Lakes Fellowship

The talks from the recent Twin Lakes Fellowship are online courtesy of Mining Grace.  I’ve just listened to David Meredith’s talk on evangelism - superb.  Who else comes out with stuff like, “…and that’s why John’s Gospel is like…Shrek”?

I look forward to hearing Carl Trueman on the Heidelberg Catechism as well.

NB. I’ve just listened to Carl on the Heidelberg Catechism.  Stunning.

Why I am boycotting Littlewoods

Twice in the last year, I have received letters from Littlewoods.  Strangely, they are always addressed to my feminine doppleganger, Mrs J. Eglinton.  (I once attended a Philip Yancey lecture in Prague where my name badge, prepared by the event organisers, read Janice Eglinton… perhaps that is coming back to haunt me?)

Anyway, both of these letters have been the same:

Dear Mrs Eglinton,

Congratulations!  You have been awarded a sum of money to spend as you wish on Littlewoods goods.

It could be various amounts up to a maximum of £1,500.  We guarantee it will be no less than £15.

To claim your award sign the Award Claim Form below and return it promptly in the envelope provided.

Your award will be released within 14 days along with the book from which you can choose your goods - it’s as simple as that!  However, please note; we are unable to release your award unless we receive your signed claim form below.

Yours sincerely,

Angela Evans

Customer Manager

If that sounds too good to be true (that Littlewoods will give me £1,500 to spend in their shop as simple as that) that is because it is to good to be true.  The small-print at the bottom of the letter says that this is not just a gift of £1,500.  Rather, in accepting the ‘award’, you are also opening a credit account - meaning the £1,500 you spend must be repaid with interest.

Shame on Littlewoods for these deceptive tactics.  What if I was an elderly person who didn’t think to read the small print, send back the form and spent my £1,500 ‘award’?  I would be left with a massive bill I could never repay.

Not that I buy much at Littlewoods anyway, but if I needed to, I now wouldn’t.

The gospel and forgiveness in the post-Christian Emergency Room

I saw this ER clip on Alan Davey’s blog.  What a powerful display of how only the gospel can deal with sin.