One for all and all for one

Someone said to me last week, ‘when old people come to the door as I am doing Annual Appeal collecting, they often shout ‘who’s there?’. I reply ‘The Salvation Army’. Wouldn’t they get a shock if they opened it and found all 1 million of us outside’!

We might be just one but we represent the whole.

I arrived in Kenya yesterday, ready to lead a workshop for Emergency team leaders and those who head up emergency work in countries around the world. One of my very special friends, Muntajab, set off on his journey to be here a couple of days ago. He left Iraq, where he leads our partner NGO there. His life is under constant threat because of his work, yet he puts it on the line daily to help people in that country who are poor, marginalised and in need of care.

Because of his sacrifice he was admitted to The Salvation Army’s ‘Order of Distinguished Auxiliary Service’ a couple of years ago. That’s the highest honour that we give to someone who is not a soldier – in other words it’s the lay person’s Order of the Founder. He means a lot to us, individually as a friend and colleague and to our Church, too. Within our organsiation and particularly in Emergency Services circles, he's very highly respected.

He set off for Kenya earlier than others because the journey is difficult, via Syria, Dubai and then onto Africa.

Like the rest of the delegates he needed a visa to enter Kenya. The visa application went in weeks ago. Our headquarters in Kenya had been to the immigration office in Nairobi every day – each visit was met with the assurance, ‘come back tomorrow – it should be ready then’. Sadly the visa never materialised. No one ever said 'no', but they procrastinated so long that our Iraqi friend was turned away from his flight in Syria and sent home.

I can only imagine the embarrassment and even shame at being refused entry to a flight when you have a valid ticket. How upsetting must it be to learn that a country will not accept you as a visitor to a conference? I’ve tried to reassure my friend that it’s not personal – they are not refusing him entry as an individual – my only suspicion is that they have refused his application because he comes from Iraq.

But isn’t that a terrible slur on the people of Iraq – the vast majority of whom are honest, God-fearing people. So many are living lives of huge difficulties – just surviving each day is a huge challenge. Because so many are desperately trying to flee from the violence and bombing, all people are tarred with the brush of being potential refugees. Even a lovely country such as Kenya, who will warmly welcome the other 27 delegates to our conference, feels nervous about allowing an individual Iraqi to enter.

It reminds me that we are rarely regarded as isolated individuals. We represent others. If someone if praised then we bask in reflected glory. But we also bear collective responsibility. If one ‘Christian’ treats someone badly then others may be put off from attending church. I’m sure you’ve heard the accusation, ‘if that’s how Christians behave then I want nothing to do with the church’. One Salvationist does something dishonest – it makes the front page of the local (or sometimes even national) newspapers and the whole Salvation Army is regarded badly.

It may not be the correct way to behave – but I reckon it’s a fact of life. And a lesson I have to remember is that I am a representative of Jesus and of the church to which I belong. I have a responsibility. If I mess up then the fallout may be that others think less of my faith or my church than they should. If I live out my faith well then hopefully others will see me as a worthy representative and my church will benefit. Lord help me guard my actions and my behaviour and be a good ambassador today.

Look up!

Last Sunday I ventured out at about 6.45am to pop around the corner and pick up my Sunday paper from the local Tesco corner shop. It was a lovely morning, the sun was shining and something prompted me to look up at the sky. It was one of those clear, bright blue skies. But what I noticed was the 3 planes circling above me. We are under the flight path where they stack planes waiting for a landing slot at Heathrow.

I pondered the fact that it's often me sitting in one of those planes, circling around, looking down over Essex. I imagined hundreds of passengers, tired from an overnight flight hoping to land.

It was a quiet morning, no one was about, but there was no sound from the planes. Had I not looked up I would be oblivious to the action going on above me. I thought of the power being generated in order to keep those planes up there; those passengers peering out and scanning the ground for landmarks.

Just for a moment it reminded me that God's presence is with me all the time. His power is evident in the world around me - even when I'm not aware of it. His angels are watching - and I'm sure the saints above are keeping an eye open from time to time, too.

Peru: Update 3

Arrived home safely from Peru last night. The trip certainly didn't go as planned! Chris's very unfortunate heart attack changed things more than slightly. Thankfully, after a few days in a private clinic in Lima he was feeling well enough to be left, which meant I was able to return to the earthquake zone for a better assessment of the situation.

It doesn't mater how many emergency trips I make, no two situations are ever the same - but I regularly leave feeling humbled by the resilience and optimism of people who have suffered tremendously.

On Wednesday I was in a small village called El Olivo. There are 365 houses there - or should I say, there were. There's only 1 left standing now - and that will need to be pulled down because it's structurally unsafe. I met a number of people - but let me introduce you to 2 of them. Annelle lived in the house that's still standing. She's not there now, of course, but living in a plastic shelter on some waste ground. When the quake happened she was in her front room, standing with her Mum at the foot of the stairs. Annelle ran out the front door - her Mum was behind her but couldn't get out. By the time she made it to the door the frame of the house was twisting and buckling as the earth moved underneath it. The door was shut tight and Luvi, her Mum, was stuck inside. Her house stayed in one piece - if it hadn't then Luvi probably wouldn't be alive today.

As I chatted with Annelle I tried to imagine what it must have been like for her as she ran out of the house, scared out of her life. Trying to find safety, what on earth did she feel when she looked around her and saw every single house in her street collapsing around her? I just can't comprehend what that must be like.

Then there was Juana. In her 20's, I found her with a small group of women working at a communal kitchen, preparing food for her friends and neighbours. I asked where her house was. She walked about 5 metres from the stove, stood on a small piece of ground and said, 'this was where my house stood, and this is the spot where my Mum died in the earthquake'. What words can you say after being told that? (the picture with this posting shows Juana and her own daughter showing Major Alex Nesterenko where their home once stood)

Despite their amazing hurt, I saw something wonderful in Annelle, Luvi and Juana. As we talked they smiled and laughed with me. They talked about the things they were doing to rebuild their lives. Despite everything, they hadn't given up!

People sometimes ask me where God is at times of disaster. I see God in people like Juana, a young woman caring for others when she could allow her own grief to overwhelm her.

I feel hugely privileged to meet such wonderful people.