First Entry!

My first several weeks in Befast have been intensely busy. We have seen a week at the YWAM base in Harpendon, England, a few days in Darkley, NI along with the strangeness of a new city, a new culture and new encounters with God and fellow believers. I feel like I should have been updating along the way, there has been more than enough to tell, but I will try to connect the dots since my departure.

To be honest, my first week here played like a holiday. After much anxiety concerning my first solo international flight, the traveling went off without a hitch (That is, if you don't count drinking Jack Daniels with an off duty pilot at a Chili's in O'Hare, feeling extrordinarily sentimental and placing a few weepy phone calls to people I probably won't speak to directly ever again). My girlfriend Ruthie McCartney was a breathtaking sight at the Belfast bus station and our reunion after 2 months was just as I expected; passionate, lovely and only slightly awkward. We spent the next few days gazing at each other over cups of tea, pints of Guinness and delicious Sunday dinners at her parent's house (The McCartneys themselves have not skipped a beat and have invited me into their home like a son and a brother, such a kindness I could have never expected).

The DTS began and suddenly after several years in rooms alone, I found myself sleeping beneath Manuel, a Palestinian hip-hop star with a severely deviated septum only to be matched my other roommate, Rowan, our house's elder statesman at 26 years and a recent Phd in computer sciences. The cacaphone is something to truly be marveled and the only tension between us has been the nocturnal symphony of two men I have come to truly admire.

Much of our first DTS lectures were concerned with the laying down of house rules and outlining the YWAM values. The orientation felt controlled, methodical and quite corporate, only to be challenged by Twyla Fradsham and her day on learning to hear God's voice. This lecture set a tone for the classroom; of probing questions, a digestive learning and emotional environment. It was becoming clear that the school was truly full of inquisitive and intentional people. I was left with little choice but to respect them, if not like them, immediately. We were treated to several lectures on Irish History, a nebulous and sometimes controversial subject, especially for the Northies (Rowan, Tom and Laura) and our lone Southerner (Luke, who not only is a voice of reason and wisdom I revere, but also a confidante and with whom I share a scholarly communion).

We then spent a few days in the border village of Darkley which is nestled in what has been called Bandit Country. During the Troubles it was notorious for its guerilla activity and unfortunately, civilian casualty. The most famous of which happened in the church where we slept; several IRA gunmen opened fire on Sunday service killing three and wounding others. We tended to the grounds of a kind of half-way house for unwed mothers, ex-cons and disenfranchised young people on their way back to society. The Darkely House, as it is called, saw the worst of the Troubles, all the black helicopters, search lights, British troops, sniper gunfire and the bomb threats. Needless to say, the area housed some ghostly history.

Upon our return I volunteered myself to lead worship at a Methodist church just next door to the student houses. Playing worship music had been something I have always been involved in, always the facilitator, never the leader and the experience gave me a whole new respect for people naturally gifted in this (I am not with my quail thin boyish yawp and total disregard for anything in close relation to rhythm). Anyhow, worth noting for Mike Sage and Russ Mohr as my admiration for them grew in recognition of their talent.

The weeks have been very busy. The students take turns making dinner (I cooked lentils and served digestive biscuits and carrot sticks, I called it Kyle's Midweek Colon Cleanse, huge hit), we go once a week to run a breakfast club at the lower Shankill's primary school (the best way to start the week, in my opinion. If you ever despair for the state of young people, play catch with a tough little kid and watch him smile when you throw a few wide. There is nothing better than a dramatic diving catch), we do Bible studies (lead by the nefarious Padraig and the elegant Tom Tate), we journal, we have reading assignments (we recently read Loren Cunningham's, YWAM's founder, biography, "Is that Really You, God?" or as I call it, "Are You There God? It's Me Loren." That usually gets polite laughter). I'm learning things about graciousness, grace, ecumenism, humility, the art of John's Gospel, forgiveness, reconciliation and through Ruth, how to fall in love (which is really how to fall in love Jesus, though it does help I find her a devastating and classic beauty).

I mentioned earlier that I have found quite a friend in Luke, a fellow student. His fiance Becky lives next door to Ruth and we often find ourselves talking on the way back to our house and late into the night over toast and tea. Despite the proximity of our girlfriends and our penchant for the academic approach to theology, Luke and I have bonded by joining Clonard Boxing gym on the Falls road, a predominantly Catholic area. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday we bandage up and jog down to the upstairs theatre of pugilism and along side some really tough looking kids, we work the heavy bags for 30 minutes, followed by 30 minutes of skipping, followed by 30 minutes of weight training. If we're lucky or feel like being humiliated we'll strap into some head gear and spar with one of the older guys. Our first night I found myself in the ring with an 18 year old light-weight called Chris, or if you knew him well, Cricky. I held my own, though he was hardly fighting at full force. I happened to land one thundering body shot and so surprised, I issued a prompt apology. Cricky smiled and swiftly punched me hard in the face, a shot that was rattling me an hour later.

Despite the violent nature of the sport, the gym focuses on the discipline and training of boxing. It is a good way to meet kids and just to be around and get used to the heavy brogue. These kids are good kids, friendly and well meaning. And they do seem to like one another in a way of friendship a close knitted community provides. They know each other's sisters, mothers and mates. There is a traveling community (read Gypsies) up the road and a few of those kids come down to train. Thomas and his younger cousin Vernon, though they may be another entry all in themselves.

To be honest, I love it here. I love going running in places that may have been considered interface areas not too long ago. I loved going to the Clonard Monastery Carole Service. I love walking around the deserted city centre with Ruthie, our breath visible in the chill. I love staying up late with my house mates laughing so hard my stomach hurts the next day. I love talking about poetry with Padraig and eating chinese food with Erin. I love discovering the humanity of Jesus. I love dreaming of what church could be.

I miss home and my church family and Damascus Road and the party fridge and even some parts of Columbia, but those who know me best will understand why I need to be here, how God has called me here for a wonderful part of His plan for my life.

Sorry for the tardy update, I promise it will be more regular from now on!