Arthur's Seat

On craggy Arthur's Seat I found a bloom.
Alone and stark its violet velvet life
Persistently against the cold and grey
Did share its beauty on the stony slopes.
Then once atop the rocky heights I stood,
The sun I glimpsed through granite stratus wisps,
Descending now and glowing drowsily
As jagged shadows strengthened at its wane.
Where once volcanic violence destroyed,
where ash and lava formed a rocky crust,
I now found green and bushy herbs and grass
Reborn amidst the fertile remnant soil.
On Arthur's Seat and in its frigid breath
I learned how Nature thinks of life and death.

Wrestling

So much of what I could write about Edinburgh seems completely useless in the present context. Lara's mom died Thursday evening (which was after midnight for us). If you've followed this blog, you will know what has been going on, but here's a summary. Elizabeth Barnoske was diagnosed with the most aggressive kind of brain cancer back in March of this year. Less than seven months later, after repeated hospitalizations, a surgery, radiation, and two different kinds of chemo-therapy, she slipped into a coma and died quickly. She was to turn 51 this December, and see her first grandchild next March.

First of all, let me throw out the disclaimer of saying that I am perfectly aware that death is a human problem that, theologically speaking, is the result of our corporate rebellion against God. I know where death comes from and that it is the naive and uninformed atheist who justifies his/her atheism by the question, "How can a loving God allow suffering?" All we actually deserve is suffering and death. God has provided for our reconciliation to himself and the defeat of death through Jesus.

Yes, I know all of this.

But I have to be honest. God's laissez faire approach to cancer makes me mad. Sure, I can look at it from the perspective that at least she didn't suffer over an even longer period of time, at least she died relatively quickly. Only she did suffer, constantly for the last seven months, and in ways no one should ever have to suffer. There is nothing good or redeeming about this, and I have more than a little difficulty understanding how God is glorified through allowing a servant of his to suffer and die in such a horrible way. Where is the covenant benefit? Beyond feeling grief, I feel totally humiliated for having believed that God might possibly heal cancer. Is it a sign of spiritual immaturity to trust God? Surely not, but that's sure what it feels like.

I guess the issue for me, and for every Christian as they go through times like this, is what can we reasonably expect from God? It's pretty clear that God wants our total allegiance and trust. Okay, but what does that mean? Is trust that is not defined by some set of expectations truly trust? The whole Bible, from beginning to end, speaks of times (maybe exceptional) where God miraculously intervened for his people and delivered them, often through healing. This healing aspect of God's intervention seems to expand and accelerate in the New Testament. Obviously, one of the ways you can deal with these things is to dismiss them in a cessationist sort of way by saying that healing was only for the apostolic age (many of us do this even if we are not doctrinally cessationist), but I still don't think this is justified by the texts without projecting our own disappointment back upon them. Christians tend to become cessationists when their naive hopes of God's intervention are not realized. In this case, the fact that our relatives weren't healed is justified by saying that they have entered into (at least the first stage of) life everlasting.

But can we honestly push all the weight of God's blessing forward to an undefined future, saying it's okay because of the resurrection to come? The attitude that Jesus' resurrection means that God can stop intervening in earthly affairs is totally backwards based on the picture painted by the New Testament. The Kingdom of God is here, or at least that's what we are told. At times like this, the whole theological balancing act between realized and future eschatology just seems like a gigantic cop out: whatever of our experiences doesn't fit into one category we just push to the other. It feels like an elaborate hoax, a justification for a system that simply doesn't work. For example, if the supernatural ethics of the Sermon on the Mount, of self-abandonment and not caring about money, don't seem reasonable based on your experience that you really do have to look out for number one and money actually does make the world go 'round, then excuse yourself by saying that these ethics are to be fully realized in the future kingdom and we must simply live by the rules of the world around us. Or as another example, don't bother trying to identify the presence of beasts one and two from Revelation in our current governmental systems, or the Harlot in our own sub-culture's participation in the larger human culture of rebellion and idolatry, because those are images that only pertain to the last few years of human existence. I just don't see in the apostles' written words an attitude of waiting for anything, except the return of Christ.

Obviously, therein lies the time-related reason for pushing anything into the future. We await Jesus' return and the manifestation and fulfillment of his rule in the world, which includes such things as the final defeat of death and the vindication of his followers by a resurrection and everlasting life thereafter. But the question still remains, what can the followers of Jesus reasonably expect from God in this present life, especially now? Nothing? I think not. The certainty of a future total victory over death provides a foundation for what we might call peace and joy. We Christians have that vague concept of spiritual comfort, but what does that mean? I still hurt, and I know that Lara and Joe and Dave, among others, are hurting worse than I am. I know that God loves us, but I would like to feel it right now.

I'm tired. I'm tired of wrestling with death, with cancer, with God. I'm tired, but I am not going to let this issue go simply because I want to slip back into the slumber of unawareness. God is not off the hook, and neither am I. Especially in the United States we allow our prosperity to turn us into spiritual herbivores, beasts who avoid real issues by turning on the television or by going shopping or by some other escape method. If I read the Jacob cycle and Job correctly, I don't think God wants to be off the hook. Somehow, it is through this wrestling that God is actually known in all of his fulness and glory. What I want with regard to cancer is some sort of propositional guarantee of something, some sort of concrete expectation I can depend on each and every time. But when it comes to truly knowing God, propositions are a mere starting point. The real and harsh truths of life cannot be glibly reduced to mere statements. They transcend even our ability to describe them; we can only glimpse and reflect.

So today, Saturday 10th of October, 2009, I sit in my new flat, the one we had just moved into and were spending our first night in when we got the call, wishing Lara were here but also being glad that she's in Dallas with her dad. They both need that right now. When Lara's gone, I eat less and generally feel lethargic. I'm going to ty to eat, get out, and type some preliminary thoughts for my dissertation today, because that's still going on despite the events of this week. The funeral is supposed to be next Friday or Saturday, and I'll be flying to Orlando for that purpose later next week.

Sprinting Cripples, Brisk Winds, and a Russian Cafe

It's funny how people and cultures stubbornly defy any attempt to reductionistically characterize their idiosyncrasies. For example, you might say of Scots that they do things more slowly than we do in East Texas, like signing leases and turning on utilities. But take that statement any further and you would be inaccurate, because there are things that Scots do a great deal more rapidly than East Texans. Talking, for instance, appears to be done with the thought in mind that this could be one's very last breath and it is therefore imperative to squeeze every bit of important (or unimportant) communication out by the time this breath ends. This also seems to become more true the thicker the Scottish accent. Apparently, those whose accents are the least discernible by non-natives are the ones most in touch with their own mortality.

Similarly, walking is done here at slightly over 175% of the capacity of one's musculo-skeletal structure. I walk quickly for an East Texan, even for an American, generally speaking. Obviously, I have had to slow down some for my pregnant wife, but we have been maintaining what I consider to be an acceptable pace in our meanderings. Over here, though, we always seem to be in the way. As early as last Friday we were noticing the conspicuously frenzied pace of walking in Old Town. At first we thought this must be because of the large percentage of University students with whom we were sharing the sidewalks. Then, in a phenomenon strangely reminiscent of the opening scenes of Office Space, we were passed by a man with a cane. He wasn't really using the cane (though he hobbled as if he needed to), so much as he held it out in front of him slightly, and set it down every now and then when it wouldn't be too much in his way. To complete the surreality of this situation, Lara and I immediately began to perform the “My Little Buttercup” scene from The Three Amigos (keyword here is surreal, and yes, I am lying about the musical number).

Scottish weather, too, defies any attempt to reduce it to some governing principle. Basically, there is weather, and it happens frequently. We are learning that you never leave the house without an umbrella, because yesterday it rained on us without clouds. I don't know how that's possible, but the only rain clouds I saw were way off in the distance. Then again, we were also experiencing what felt like hurricane force winds, so maybe the rain was coming the rain cloud 25 miles away. Sideways rain appears so far to be the main kind of rain in Scotland. I mentioned always having an umbrella, but I've had to use it differently, more like a shield in combat than a mobile pavilion. Sometimes, the rain is more like ether, existing everywhere and coming at you from every direction at once. In that case, using an umbrella just makes you feel like an idiot because you get wet no matter which way you point it. Perhaps if I have a giant inflatable plastic globe which we could role around in like hamsters...

Speaking of the wind yesterday, it was very impressive, reminding me of Tulsa, and Lara of Hurricane Andrew. Yesterday also was the day we chose to visit the Royal Botanic Gardens, which are directly in front of the place we are staying. The wind was strong all day, but it was stronger in the afternoon than the morning, so we were able to see most of the Botanic Gardens before standing upright became impractical. On the way back to our residence, the wind (which did not come from one direction exclusively, but whichever way was most inconvenient at the time) resisted our approach to St. Colms such that we were actually leaning forward as we walked. At one point, I tucked my head and leaned forward while taking a few steps, only to look up and be sure I was three steps behind my starting place.

Despite the capricious weather, walking around has actually gotten a great deal easier for both of us. I was perhaps more accustomed to daily walking than Lara because of our work environments in Tyler, but even I was tired and sore the first few days. Lara has managed to strike out on her own a couple of times as I spent a few hours in a library, and like a boomerang she always came back. One thing that has helped some is learning the bus system. I can do a PhD, but this bus schedule is intimidating, particularly when they are referring to places you won't find on most maps, because they aren't street names but district names. Finally, we found a bus route number that took us from near St. Colms all the way to the main part of the University (it actually goes by New College, too). With trepidation we got on that first bus, paid our fares and climbed some stairs to the top of a double decker bus, sitting close to the front. Miraculously, we got off at the right place.

Actually, that first bus experience was loads of fun. I'm still not quite certain how the whole center of gravity thing works with double deckers, but I recommend you try it at least once in your life. While we were on that first bus, a young man who turned out to be a student at the University asked us if he was on the right bus route to get to the University. I love irony. His name was Christoph (or Cristoff or Kristoff, I didn't ask him the spelling of it), and he was from Belgium. He didn't realize it, but he had the honor of being the first Belgian I ever met who wasn't a waffle. We exchanged the required student chitchat, like where are you from, what are you studying, etc. I explained that I was a PhD student in the Divinity school and my project was a comprehensive study of spirit in the Old Testament. He looked at me without understanding, but in a completely neutral way, indicating he had no idea what I was talking about. This is not the sort of blank, dismissive look you might get from someone in the US in such circumstances which basically means, “I'm glad you care about that because I sure don't.” Rather, I honestly think he was completely unfamiliar with the Bible and what the study of it might possibly entail. I knew that there were young people in Western civilization who were so unfamiliar with Christianity as to at times never even have heard who Jesus is, but he may very well have been my first actual encounter with that reality.

Despite tackling the bus routes, we still enjoy walking. Today we walked to church, a local one called Stockbridge Parish Church, which is part of the Church of Scotland. Just as last week we had a very pleasant experience with another COS at Palmerston Place, Lara and I were warmly welcomed despite the heat being out in the building. Church of Scotland services are actually very similar to what you might experience at a Methodist church, including a section toward the beginning of the gathering which is aimed at children and young people. The sermon happens about two thirds of the way through, and there is singing both before and after. Communion is not taken every week, but appears to be a monthly occurrence. The minister at Stockbridge Parish Church is actually a woman (today was her birthday), and her sermon today was very well prepared and delivered. We were able to talk to her afterward, and she is very nice, unassuming, and mild-mannered to the point of being a bit bashful. So far, our experiences with the Church of Scotland have revealed an organization characterized by smaller congregations with vibrantly friendly and mission-minded Christians. This is not to say that missionary efforts are not needed. On the contrary, the majority of Scots are quite clearly not Christians. They don't even pretend to be, like many Americans do (I'm convinced that the statistics of Christianity's prevalence in the USA is swelled by the presence within much of the country of a cultural faith, ethnic Christianity, if you will). Therefore, whatever help the Scottish Christians can get to reach their people is vitally needed. I'm just saying that I think the Church of Scotland is playing and will continue to play an important role in that outreach.

Today after church, we ate lunch at this Russian cafe run by Russian immigrants on the corner of Brandon Terrace and Huntley St (or Inverleith Row, or Canonmills; roads often have two or three names here). We each had soup and a Piroshky (Russian for pie) for half of what we would have paid elsewhere, and the food was really good. If you've never had Russian food, it apparently depends heavily on mushrooms, but don't let that stop you if you're not a mushroom fan (as I am not). I will likely eat there again, whether we live in this area or not.

Courage

I haven't let you all know what we have been up to lately. Since the last blog, we moved into St. Colm's house where we are staying in some rooms indefinitely. There we have to share the bathrooms, kitchen, and common areas. It is quiet and clean, so we have unpacked some and bought some groceries. That is pretty much all we did on Tuesday.

Wednesday, I had to get over some of my fears of traveling the city alone. Kerry must work on his studies and I could do some of the errands nearby without much chance of getting lost. For some reason I still just had a great big desire to stay locked up in my room. I did not travel across the world to be freaked out! So we walked to New College and there I left Kerry to go to Princes Street to find a cheap cell phone and information about bank accounts. I got information about both very easily and was able to explore the Writer's Museum before the time I was to meet Kerry. I felt really proud that I was even mistaken for a local a couple of times. It probably was because I didn't look quite as lost as the hordes of tourists who were also there.

The next day we followed a similar schedule after going to some University offices trying to find all the things we needed to open a bank account. We took the bus for the first time because these offices were on the very opposite corner of the city center. We also didn't completely succeed getting the information we needed because some things needed to be mailed to us later. This time after leaving Kerry at New College, I purchased a Skype phone, found an art shop and bought some simple art supplies, visited the Museum of Childhood, and then went to the National Library (which was kind of small). I had expanded my sphere of travel a bit farther and felt pretty good.

At this point I may have traveled as much as a half mile away from New College, but I still preferred Kerry good sense of direction (though, some of his short cuts would have been easier the longer and smoother way). Today was a real test. We traveled by bus down to the main campus library so Kerry could use those resources and so we could be close to a flat we were scheduled to look at. We were nervous about whether or not it would fall through. When the time came, we were able to see the place. Someone was still living there and it would not be available until next week.

It was a first floor (in America it would be the second floor) two bedrooms and one bath flat/apartment in a quiet area, situated only about a 15min walk to New College and right next door to the main campus library. The kitchen, dining room, and living room was one space that looked like just a large kitchen (with an American size refrigerator!). The master bedroom was large with a nice window and built in bookshelf (which would be very nice!). The second bedroom was also large with bunk beds. There was also plenty of storage and closet space. It was furnished and a good price. We immediately wanted it and were desperate not to lose it. Unfortunately, Kerry needed to go to his first class, and we needed to pay the deposit. This had to be done in an area of town I had only been to once before, and I had to be there before the offices closed for the day, which was before Kerry was out of class (4:00 p.m. of course).

This made me have to muster as much of an independent spirit as I could. Kerry handed me most of the maps we owned and pointed out the location of the building I needed to go to. I had the cell phone that we bought for this purpose, but could I call Kerry while he was in class? Anyways, we parted ways. He went towards New College and I towards Holyrood Park. I was able to get there and pay the deposit. I found out later that I was supposed to fill out an application, but no one seemed to know that at that time. It still worked out well because we could just fill out the application on Monday. With the deposit, it was ours. Then I traveled to New College and waited for Kerry at the National Gallery where I did a few sketches.

Finally, we went home to eat dinner and I called my Dad. It turns out that even though Mom is doing better, the cancer is spreading and there is nothing they can do. Again, my courage was being tested, but not just mine, the whole family was in turmoil. After talking to my dad, my brother, my grandmother, and even my mom, I have to face what will I do and how will I respond.

I am afraid I cannot answer that. I still don't know. I know a few of you have gone through this. I wrote this in the blog because I know it will be the central focus for me of the next few weeks. Keep us all in prayer.

House Search Continued

So today we continued our house search. The weekend everything was shut down (concerning relevant business; tourist stuff and restaurants are always open). Today we were able to resume our productive activities, sort of. It seems that very few people show up to work anywhere until 9ish o'clock. Then the all take an hour lunch that could start earlier than the posted time and may run later as well. Finally most businesses seem to close their doors at 4:00p.m. This has been consistent since we arrived.

The first thing we did after breakfast was go to New College, where Kerry met with his advisor, signed up for a research seminar, and picked up some necessary papers. This was a completely positive experience, though I was a bit worn out following him up and down tons of stairs. ORU has nothing compared to New College when it comes to stairs.

After that we headed to the accommodations office which is in the opposite corner of the city center from our hotel. We had to do this because we called a half a dozen times to find out when we could finalize student accommodations, but could not get the one person on the planet who knew anything about anything. Once we got there, it turns out that we can't finalize the accommodation paperwork until we see it and we can't see it until Thursday. We were upset so we asked about the other two places we saw online. One was already taken and the other was the same story as the first. I had happened to pick up a flier from New College (a habit that I have to pick up almost anything that is free). This flier advertised accommodation in an Oxford style college (like a shared mansion) next to the Royal Botanical Gardens just north of New Town. They had double bedrooms (housing for couples) as well as included Wifi. This particular place would be similar to a Youth Hostel or a dorm in that you pay for a room (not sure if bath is in suite) and have to share the kitchen and laundry facilities. The rent was nearly 200 pounds less per month than the university housing and all the utilities (except phone) was included. When Kerry called the guy he spoke to said that approval to stay would take about an hour and to just bring our luggage in the morning and we could try it out. At least, he said, we could stay there until we found somewhere else. The fact is that we would have to find somewhere else once the baby was born, but it would be good to have a semi-permanent residence in which we could start to work and live a little. We had given up on finding a pet-friendly accommodation or even being in the nicest area of town, but this solution would give us the opportunity to do both in a more laid back casual manner. Plus, the picture of this house was very beautiful and located in a great area of town. It isn't perfect, but we will end up making friends.

Now, some of you may be wondering why we are having such a hard time. In the US you walk up to an apartment complex, pick up a brochure, look at a room or not, and sign a lease in the same day. Here you cannot sign a lease until you can see the room. This includes University housing. There was no way possible to have accommodations before we came that we know of. Secondly, the agent will usually schedule you to see the place when it is convenient for them and show it to multiple people. I really don't know the steps after that, since we haven't gotten much farther than scheduling to see a place and then getting it rented out for under us before we can see it. It also seems that the Scots here keep talking of a lot of places available right now, but all the agency offices we pass and the websites we have looked at only have about three at a time ready to lease. Also there is no rhythm to when they become available or where they are located. So, in summary, this sucks!

The Shiny Side of Edinburgh Part 2

After all of this we retired in our wonderful hotel room in which both Kerry and I struggled to go to sleep. For some reason the the bed at the hotel seemed nicer, but the one at the Youth Hostel was easier to fall asleep in. I totally don't know why. In the middle of the night, I discover an envelop slid under our door. It told us that tomorrow morning we would be move to a nicer room in the main building because that building was being shut down for techinical problems. So in the morning, we again moved our luggage down to the lobby in the linen closet elevator (it took three trips). Luckily, they tagged all the luggage and said that it would be in our new room when we returned. So off we went to eat breakfast and attend the church around the corner.

It turns out this was a fantastic church to attend. The denomination was Church of Scotland and there was some litergy which we enjoyed, but the sermon was phenominal! The gospel that was preach made us feel at home and the spirit of God was very much there. We met some young couples who we talk with for almost an hour and they gave us their contact information. We made our first friends! One thing about the body of Christ is that you can find a family of believers anywhere in the world. The grace and love of Christ makes us see no strangers. Kerry and I tried to figure out how we could attend this church if we live in the student accomedations that we will be looking at on Monday. Perhaps we will take the bus or perhaps we should visit some closer churches first before making a descision. I don't know, but we intend on going again tonight.

After visiting, Kerry and I ate lunch, bought a more detailed map than the tourist one we were using, and checked into our new room with our luggage already sitting in it. The Hilton upgraded us to a “Deluxe” room which meant it was even bigger and nicer. The private bathroom now had enough room to turn around in and was even larger than many in the US hotels we have stayed in. What a change in just a few days!

So, anyways, this is where I am sitting typing this blog in preperation for our internet blitz at Starbucks. I have to say in conclusion that I have constantly been afraid that God will drop us and we will not be able to afford to stay and have to move back to the US before Kerry can complete his PhD, but this fear seems so ridiculous right now. Every moment we have been here, God has not only watched over us, but he has open my eyes from what I was expecting, struggling and survival – like our worn out impression of Old Town, to the blessing and hope of what He wants to do like the glittering New Town. There are still a lot of questions that I have, like why is my mom having to go through this trial of cancer, but when all is said and done the whole gospel and Christian experience can be summerized in one word: hope. That is why we jumped off this cliff into Scotland, that is why we still pray for healing, that is why we believe in the future promise of eternity. The things that Kerry and I are experiencing is not luck. Our luck should have run out a long time ago before we even got here. What we are expirencing is one act of grace after another. So all of you out there, keep hoping because faith comes quickly behind it and then peace after that.

The Shiny Side of Edinburgh Part 1

Well, Saturday morning we had to get up early and move from our youth hostel to the Hilton hotel. This took Kerry (because it was too much effort for my pregnant body) moving each one of our 40lbs bags down a narrow flight of stairs, checking out, calling a taxi, loading the bags (the driver did help), going to the Hilton, unloading the bags, and having them tagged and stored for when we were able to check in at 3:00 p.m. Even though this was an ordeal, the difference between the youth hostel and the Hilton was worth the effort. Did I mention that because of Priceline we were paying the same amount as we were for the Youth Hostel? Hurray!

We then had intended to take one of the free tours of the city and play tourist for the day, but once we wondered east from the hotel (which was in the unexplored west side of the city center) we came upon a wonderous sight. Yesterday we had explored a good deal of what is called Old Town. This area was pretty in a medieval bumpy stone roads and towering old buildings from the 1600s sort of way. The area we stumbled upon on Saturday is called New Town. The contrast was shocking. This area just north of the castle was made up of a main shopping strip running east-west on Princes Street that was a mile long full of modern, high fashion stores that would out shine any of our strip malls. One of the the less impressive stores on this strip was the Gap. Their was also a Starbucks on every other corner. The boutiques and resturants lined the North part of the street while a beautiful park lined the south side. On our way down this road that reminded us of home (American commercialism!) we came across beautiful views of the castle, Canton Hill, Author's seat, and the whole of Old Town in general. While every road seems to go uphill in Old Town, New Town looked down on everything, in more ways than one. We also came upon the National gallery and went in to see the free art exhibit featuring many Itlain artist and a collection of Scottish art. Then we turned North to explore the rest of New Town. The residential area was lined in uniform Georgian style buildings that instantly reveiled why these flats/apartments were so much more expensive than those south of the castle. The smooth, unhurried pacing gave us room to walk at an American's leasurly pace. Even in the busy shopping area, the population was noticable older and more varied than the 16 through 20 year olds I described in my last blog. The whole day was a large sigh of relief. Even though we may not be able to afford to live in this part of town at the moment (though the area we are focusing on right now is near the very nice Meadows park and away from the bustle), we deffinately know where to go to relax and where we would like to move to once I can get a stable income. It isn't like old town is a “bad” area of town, but it is the college area with LOTS of the young college kids type activities, cigerate smells, and clubs and the touristy area with lots of crowded streets, tartan shops, and tourist focused stores. New Town is where the population really live and shop.

After a pleasant walk we returned to the hotel to check into our room, move our baggage into the second building and up the elevator that could work as a linen closet. The room was large and spacious. We were so pleased with the almost King size bed and private bathroom. We relaxed for a while hoping to use the free Wifi we thought the hotel offered to communicate with family and businesses. It turns out that there was no Wifi, just broad band that you must pay for that we couldn't use even if we wanted to because of our laptop specs. So went out for dinner at a tiny Italian restarant in which the owner/waiter spoke little English. The food was cheap and good. We then searched for one of the zillion Starbucks to go online. Once we found one that was still open, we only had little over a half an hour to get everything done. I guess the UK doesn't do coffee shops on Saturday Nights.