To Russia with memories

To Russia with memories

Anyone who has read my first book, ‘Are we nearly there yet?’ will know about our first trip to Moscow in 1988 and the traumas that amazing trip involved. So it was with that trip in our memories we proceeded with interest, a week ago, to see how the old place has changed over the past twenty one years.

The motive for the trip is the same as it was in 1988 – to help bring the scriptures to those who do not have them. I was representing the UK Board of the Institute for Bible Translation (IBT) at the annual Board meeting of IBT Russia. I have been on the Board of IBT UK for five years. The head office for the mission is situated in an ancient Monastery on the banks of the Moscow River. Here a dedicated staff organise the translation and printing of scriptures into the non-Slavic languages of the former Soviet Union. There are 140 such languages and they cover 40 million people who have little or nothing of the scriptures in their mother tongue. ‘Every tribe, every tongue, every nation’ Rev. 5:9 is the watchword.

So far we have printed at least a Gospel and usually much more into 80 of these languages. So far a full Bible in five languages and a complete New Testament in twenty six languages. Languages such as Chechen, Gagauzi, Tartar, Armenian, Uzbek, Georgian, Uighur, Yakut, Ossetic, Turkmen, Tuvin – just to name a few of the more well known. Included in the work has been a children’s Bible in 36 languages. The children’s’ Bibles are particularly important because their parents will make sure the children learn to read in their own mother tongue and often, this is the only book they may have. The work is incredibly difficult and new words sometimes have to be developed to get the Biblical meaning of words like ‘Lord’ across. A single Gospel can take up to ten years to translate. Most projects take five years or more.

Moscow has changed! The roads are gridlocked and the streets lined with parked Mercedes, BMW, Lexus and masses of 4X4 cruisers – all covered in mud. Red Square is about the same except for the famous Gum stores. It used to stock expensive rubbish, but now it has the world’s collection of super-rich designer shops where they dare not advertise the prices. ‘If you need to ask the price – you can’t afford it!’ High officials and mafia tough guys float around the place with their beautiful molls on their arms, dressed in four inch heels, jewellery and expensive furs. I got chatting to one who came and sat by me (I think out of curiosity) until her tough looking bloke with cropped hair, a black leather jacket, bulging muscles and no sense of humour, came and stared at me before whisking her away, as she quickly explained that I was only some stupid English tourist. The highlight for us was a visit to the Moscow State Circus. What an amazing show! Animals galore, with trained Lions, a massive tiger, leopard, camels, monkeys, ostriches, horses, lamas, parrots, all performing the most unlikely routines. The finale, which brought the house down, was a single seal that performed the most amazing feats I have ever seen. The lighting, lasers, special effects, intricate sets, and music, all combined to add to an amazing show.

We were reminded of just how big Moscow is as we walked endlessly between our accommodation(at a Methodist Seminary), the monastery, Metro stations, church and tourist attractions. We came home exhausted. My lack of fitness, bad knee and short legs made it rather a trial. The Metro stations are still done up like Tsarist palaces and the old wooden escalators whisk hundreds of people at a time, at high speed, down to near the centre of the earth. The Metro trains are noisy and propel themselves across Moscow at about a thousand miles an hour. Great fun except we couldn’t read the station names in Cyrillic script. A thirty five year veteran of IBT was Barbro who was our guide and lovely companion.

At the board meeting, I had my arm lovingly but effectively twisted to take on the new role of International Chairman. So we will be going back next year too. I must try to get fit – or what passes as fit with me – before then.

Why evolution is imposible

EVOLUTION

Two of the world’s leading astro-physicists - Sir Fred Hoyle and Chandara Wik Rama Singh conducted ten years of research - with unlimited funds, access to the worlds best libraries and data-bases - they set themselves the task of answering the following question :-

‘’ Since we as atheists know that life is the result of a naturalistic evolutionary process, what are the mathematic and scientific odds, that given any part of the universe and time and opportunity, life would express itself.’’

After ten years of research their conclusion was :-

‘’The chances of life coming about on Earth or anywhere in the universe by natural processes are 10 to the power of 40,000 - which means that it is impossible.’’

If we were to count all the electrons in the universe, they would be 10 to the power of 80

Most of the universe is space. But if it were all electrons - a solid metal ball of electrons, the number of electrons would be 10 to the power of 130

It would be easier for a whirlwind to blow through a scrapyard and for a Jumbo jet in flight to come out the other end.

When asked by journalists if he was still an atheist?
Sir Fred Hoyle said ‘’someone has been monkeying about with physics the chemistry and the biology of the universe.’’

John's new Book

At long last my new book is now available. It was my intention to call it 'Today is the last day that we cry.' However, the publishers - who are all powerful in these things - wanted to call it: 'OVERCOMING THE POWERS OF HELL'. They believe that the more dramatic title will sell more.
Two amazing stories are told in tandem in this book, touching each other at significant points. There is the story of Beatrice Omese and the wonderful way God has used her to help over thirty thousand poor and destitute widows through her self-help programme. It is self-funding and a major lesson to anyone wanting to help the poor of Africa. Beatrice had the faith to believe God's promises to her and this ministry has been the fruit of that faith.
The background to this is the twenty year civil war in Northern Uganda. The incursions of the 'Lord's Resistance Army' (LRA) and the unspeakable atrocities they committed. They abducted thirty thousand children over many years and turned them into child soldiers and sex slaves. Only when the churches of Uganda decided to unite in spiritual opposition to this movement, did the solution come. The LRA moved with incredible witchcraft powers and thwarted all attempts by much superior military forces to defeat them. When the spiritual breakthrough came - the victory came. It is a remarkable story. (I don't consider it suitable for children under 16).
The book is 150 pages and costs £7.99 plus £1.50 p & p. Just e mail me at johnbarrymiles@gmail.com and we will send you a copy. If you wish to buy one as a Christmas present for someone, I will write a dedication in the front and sign it. If you just want it signed for yourself, I will do that automatically.
My first book, 'ARE WE NEARLY THERE YET?' which many of you may have already read, is still available at £7.99 plus £1.50 p & p. If you would like both books, They will be £10 for the two plus £2.00 p & p.
The second book: TO CATCH A THIEF is also available at £6.99 plus £1.50 p & p. The success of this book has amazed everyone, especially me. Over eighty thousand copies sold, translated into six languages, and won the UK Christian book awards prize for the best biography of 2008.
If the insomniacs among you want all three? £15.00 plus £2.50 p & p.
So there you are, Christmas present problems soved at a stroke!

Is God Good?

Is God Good?

(A true account)

1

On Nairobi’s over crowded street,

Where poverty and danger meet;

Four young friends in a minibus,

Squashed in tight with noise and fuss.

About God’s work - a taxi ride,

Crushed and poor they swallow their pride.

2

To share the Gospel with Nairobi’s youth,

To tell rich and poor the hearfelt truth.

This is their mission, their purpose and joy.

But thoughts disturbed by sudden cry,

Broken down truck had blocked their lane,

Nowhere to go – two young friends slain.

3

No traffic police to warn or care,

No one to offer a final prayer.

One’s brother is dead and he almost,

With broken neck and nearly lost.

The two friends are together no more,

Such is the lot of the travelling poor.

4

Two bothers, the apple of the parent’s eye,

O how to break the news and cry

Together with them, and share their woe.

Of the four only one walked away to go

To kneel and cry a fountain of tears;

Assail the heavens with questioning prayers.

5

Who will help the injured brother?

With costly care will he ever recover?

Our foreign friends, will they meet the cost?

Will our remaining son be the third one lost?

The church cannot help and we are so poor,

Will God provide and open a door?

6

Two thousand gather – for sad, sad memory,

How could this happen, how could it be?

The Pastor stands with solemn face.

What can he say about God’s grace?

Each tear filled eye towards God’s man,

How can he say ‘This is God’s plan?’

7

He asks the question - ‘Is God good?’

Two thousand reply from where they stood,

‘Yes, God is good’ their cry rang out.

They trust their God and do not doubt.

‘All the time?’ was his next cry.

‘Yes, all the time – triumphant reply

8

A year gone by but wounds are still raw.

Praise God He came and opened that door.

One brother restored, his faith still strong

This story is an African song.

With sudden death, and life seems cheap;

But their faith in God runs ever deep.

Boy soldier - God's amazing grace

From Josh Shaada - IT Missionary in Soroti.

About a month ago David showed up in Soroti (Uganda) with one of the saddest stories I know. When he was 9 years old he was abducted by the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA, a rebel group) together with his parents and friends. After they killed his parents, David was marched to Somalia where his friends were sold as slaves in exchange for weapons and bullets. David was then taken to Sudan where he was trained to become a soldier. He was beaten and treated harshly until he became a soldier. He was forced to kill, steal, abduct children, and get married. Once he was caught trying to escape. As a result, he was tortured, shot, and cut with a bayonet. It was not until his fifth year with the LRA that he successfully
managed to escape. After turning himself in to government soldiers in Congo, he was brought to an army barracks here in Uganda. Sadly, soldiers there also abused him. Finally, one soldier from Teso region noticed him and brought him back to Soroti. David was staying with the soldier’s aunt, but continued to be tormented by demons. David was accused of lighting a house on fire and was driven away from home.
Josh recently went through the 7 steps to spiritual freedom with David. As they went through the first step of confessing counterfeit religious experience, David had much to confess since he had been the victim of much satanic ritual abuse. David also confessed great bondage to fear. The most powerful time of their day together came during the step on forgiveness. One by one he forgave the man who abducted him, the man who killed his parents, the man who sold his friends into slavery, the man who forced him to kill others, and so on. By walking in the truth of God’s word, David’s life continues to be transformed. Satan had him bound but Jesus set him free. David is now living with a local pastor and his family. We also helped David return to school
this week so he can finish his education

Terrorist comes to Christ

Palestinian native Tass Saada ran away from home and joined the Fatah movement when he was just 17. Once a member of the Fatah party, Tass Saada now sows 'Seeds of Hope' in Gaza and the West Bank(Photo via CBN News website). "I joined the Fatah movement, basically, because (Yassar) Arafat was my hero," Saada told Erick Stakelbeck, CBN News Terrorism Analyst in an interview with CBN News. Israel's resounding victory over the surrounding Arab nations in the Six Day War of 1967 devastated young Tass. He was soon drawn to the militant views of Fatah founder and Saada family friend, Yasser Arafat. "I used to sit right across from him and just stare at him, just mesmerized," said Saada. "He was such a charismatic character." In the CBN News interview, Saada said he believed the Jews had stolen Palestinian land. He was determined to help Arafat and Fatah push Israel into the sea. "Our training was specialized, basically, in intense, marine-type fighting skills," he recalled. "We used to call ourselves guerilla fighters, commando fighters." Saada became a Fatah sniper, picking off and killing Israeli soldiers. His nickname was "Butcher." "My job was to knock off whoever was the commander of the unit," he said. Saada told CBN News he took part in bloody battles against the Israeli army. He even attempted to assassinate the Crown Prince of Jordan, who he saw as unfriendly to Palestinians. But Saada his most prestigious job was as a personal driver for his hero: Arafat. "Everybody knows I was a fierce driver," said Saada. "And so when it came a time and need for Arafat to be transported from one area of Jordan to the other, they called me to do that." Saada told CBN News he eventually made his way to the United States to attend school. By that point, he had given up on waging violent jihad, but he still hated Jews.He became a successful restaurant manager, married an American woman and had two children. But he was miserable -- living a fast lifestyle of mistresses and booze. Until a longtime friend told him about Jesus Christ. "He put the Bible in the middle, between the two of us. And I just got scared and I jumped away from the Bible," Saada recounted. "I said, 'I cannot touch that! It's got the name of God, the word of God in it!' He said, 'So you believe this is the word of God?' I said, 'Yes.' "Why did I say 'yes,' when we as Muslims don't really believe that the Bible is valid as the word of God?" He says he momentarily lost consciousness at that point. "The next thing I know, I'm on my knees with my hands lifted up, inviting Jesus. And the rest is history." When Tass told his Muslim family back in the Middle East of his conversion, his brother vowed to kill him, he told CBN News. In the meantime, his Christian friend threw him for yet another loop. "He said 'Tass, to have the peace that I have, you must love the Jew.'" remembered Saada. "I literally froze, turned around and looked at Charlie. Charlie knew how much I hated Jews." Saada told CBN News he soon got past that lifelong hatred. He developed close friendships with Jews and began to look at Israel in a brand new light. His book, 'Once an Arafat Man' recounts his transformation. "I don't believe in the two-state solution," Saada told CBN News. "I don't believe in that. Because I believe that land belongs to the Jews. It doesn't belong to us." "But, on the other hand," he continued. "I believe that we have the right to live in that land, as is recorded in the Book of Ezekiel, where the Lord redivided the land among the Israelites and told them to give the foreigners living among them an equal share of the land." Meanwhile, in its push to establish a Palestinian state, the Obama administration is counting on the Palestinian party known as Fatah to be Israel's partner for peace, Stakelbeck reports. "But judging by a major conference held by the group in Bethlehem last month, President Obama's vision is a long way from being fulfilled," Stackelbeck says. Stakelbeck added: "In Bethlehem, Fatah leaders reaffirmed their commitment to what they call 'armed resistance.' They refused to recognize Israel's status as a Jewish state. Fatah, which rules the West Bank, also restated its desire to take control of eastern Jerusalem and make it the capital of a Palestinian state." These rigid views now sound all too familiar to Saada, says Stakelbeck. Today, Saada spends much of his time in the West Bank and Gaza, helping provide modern necessities to Palestinians through his charitable organization, Seeds of Hope. He says Muslims in the Middle East are turning to Christ in record numbers. "Millions of Muslims around the earth -- especially the Arabs in Saudi Arabia, in Qatar," Saada marveled. "In all these 12 nations of Ishmael, all of these nations, there is so much conversion in that land." CBN's Stakelbeck says that's why Saada is confident that peace will one day come to the region -- the kind of peace that politicians can never bring.

Generation Me continued

One of the saddest effects of the Gem's mindset is the effect on them when they get married. They fall in love - but they have little idea of what love really is. Marriage is going to be like being single, except much more fun. The idea of commitment and sacrificing for someone else, bending to an other's ideas of what their life might be like is so foreign, problems soon arise. All of a sudden, there is another person, with their own needs and wants to consider. Now, they are not the only centre of their attention.

Then, shock horror, sex is not exactly like it is portrayed in the films from Hollywood. Even this requires consideration of someone else's needs.

Sadly this is leading to a shocking amount of divorce at an early stage of the marriage. Finding out that their spouse may have something different they want to do next weekend comes as a shock. They have always done what they wanted and don't see why it can't be the same now they are married.

The various pre-marriage courses do not deal anywhere near enough with this condition, mainly because it is not recognised. An African friend who preached at my son's wedding siad an interesting thing. "When you go to college, you study hard and then get a certificate. In marriage, you get the certificate at the beginning and then you have to begin to study hard!"

Top of my head quiz

Off the top of my head quiz:

The longst river in England? The Severn (10 miles longer than the Thames)
The highest mountain in North America? Mount Mckinley in Alaska, 20,320 ft (6,194 m) high,
The highest waterfall in the world? The Angel Falls, Venezuela. 3,212 ft (979 m) high
Capital of New York State? Albany.
What country had the first femal President? Sri Lanka
Where is the world's first iron ship? Bristol
Our first National Park? Peake District nNational Park in 1951
The average age (aprox) of the Israelites
who entered the Promised Land? 40 (they were all born in 40 years in the wilderness)
The tallest man in modern times? Robert Waldo. (8 ft 11 ins from Illinois USA)

GENERATION 'ME'

Generation ‘ME’

It has become a sort of Christian thinker’s pastime to label and analyse the younger generation. So I thought I might as well join in! I have some thoughts about what I have identified as ‘Generation ME’ (Gems for short). It generally includes most people under forty (I will definitely be in trouble for this!).

The trend that I will describe, I have noticed mainly in two areas. The first is my own specialisation, which is Missions, and the other is in church ministry – both full-time work and lay members’ ministry. The Gems are self-centred in a rather innocent way. It is something that they are totally unaware of. It has become ingrained into their cultural DNA. It is a way of thinking that seems so natural to them, that is it not even recognised, let alone challenged.

What are the symptoms?

For many years now, my work have been to research mission projects in Africa, publicise them at home and recruit hundreds of people – mostly young people - to step out and join a team to work in Africa for a summer or a year or, in a few cases, longer. It involves challenging young people to go – at least that is what I tell everyone. In reality, it is persuading, enticing and showing them that it is just the right thing for them to do this summer or this coming year. That they will benefit greatly from the experience and personal development. I even point out that it will look great on their C.V.!

This brings me to the core of the issue (have you noticed that we now have ‘issues’ or ‘challenges’ instead of problems?) For many Gems, the guiding principle and main motivation for doing anything, is how it suits their personal well being, medium-term plans and personal development. It has to be of benefit to them and fit into what they see as their personal progress in life.

Many Gems might ask me now “What’s wrong with that?’ My answer is ‘Just about everything.’ Thinking things through within this personal agenda is even thought of as ‘Seeking God’s will.’ When, in fact, it is just an extension of a mindset that has been inculcated into them from their earliest years. Me first, my agenda, my entertainment, my development and my personal satisfaction.

The concepts of service, sacrifice, meeting other’s needs, doing the needful, answering a call for help, often do not often come into their personal equation. The call from God to Paul to go to the Galatians was immediately obeyed. Paul did not stop to contemplate how it fitted into his personal life-plan. One of the symptoms is, not being prepared to commit themselves to anything until the last possible moment – no matter how it inconveniences anyone else. This is just in case a better offer or opportunity comes up at the last minute. I gave up trying to organise reunion conferences for young mission workers because the lovely Gems, that I dearly love, simply wouldn’t commit to coming. When asked repeatedly if they were coming, the answer from 90% of them was always ‘Maybe’ or ‘Probably.’ The weekend away has become so prevalent, that many churches can only expect 50% of their members to attend on any given Sunday. Gems have sleep-walked, with an innocent smile on their faces, into a culture that demands constant personal stimulation and entertainment.

My own generation had the opposite problem when I was in my twenties. We were too eager to rush off and meet any needs we saw, without praying and seeking God’s will. Our elders developed the admonition ‘The need is not the call.’ At least we were willing to serve and to commit ourselves.

What are the causes?

We have largely lost the sense of majesty for God. God now serves us, not us Him! A.W. Tozer put it like this:
‘Our God has now become our servant, to wait on our will. “The Lord is my Shepherd” we
say, instead of “The Lord is my Shepherd,” and the difference is as wide as the world.
The sense of awe and privilege in serving the great God of all the universe has largely gone. So many people now speak about Jesus Christ as if He were someone they met down at the pub – and Gems generally feel right at home in a pub.

I think the main fault lies with my generation and how we have raised the present one. Because we have had more money and leisure time, we have deluged our kids with toys, activities, interests, holidays, parties, TV, video games, expensive ‘Strawberry’ phones (my own name for them) etc. We gave in to worldliness and have made this the norm of our kids. The result is that our kids have been surrounded from their earliest thoughts, with an over-wide choice of things that are there for their constant personal entertainment. They become, not just the centre of their parents’ world, but the centre of their own. They see this as normal life and have become incapable of another mindset. On Christmas day they tear open a room full of presents in a frenzy of ‘What-have-I- got’ without any interest, or often, knowledge of who has kindly bought them the presents.

What is the solution?

I think the Gems are mostly too far gone to change. Perhaps if they can begin to see the mistakes their parents made in the way they have been raised, they might raise the next generation more wisely and with more Godly values. We were never too conscious of worldliness as such, because we rarely had the means to indulge it. Increasing wealth and leisure opportunities were a new phenomenon. Hence it crept furtively into our lives. We even rejoiced in the opportunity to totally spoil our kids as something all good Christian parents should do.

If the Gems do not see this as an ‘issue’ it will only be perpetuated in their own kids. The need is for Biblical teaching on this and related topics. The Gems need to see that they have been duped by innocent loving parents into a weak, everything-for-me, cost-me-nothing, ‘no discomfort thanks,’ pale shadow of Christianity that lacks any sense of sacrifice or service to God or man. Gone is the radical, militant, no-compromise aspirations of our evangelical forefathers. We are no longer God’s army, we have become His holiday camp! It is no longer ‘Onward Christian soldiers’ but ‘Onward Christian marshmallows,’ preferably toasted please, on some Mediterranean holiday beach.

John Miles 2009

Victoria St. Gospel Hall - a prophetic warning.

Victoria Street Gospel Hall – a Warning

Note: I’m sure that there will be one or more Victoria Streets somewhere with a Gospel Hall in it. However, I do not know any of them and this poem is not about any particular church. It was an attempt at a prophetic warning, written circa 1975.

1
Victoria Street of sad inner city,
Few houses left and they’re so old.
Development plan dropped, such a pity,
Baptist Church closed and the building sold.
Sold they say to a wealthy Sikh;
There’s just the Chapel now where God can speak.
2
The Gospel Hall in Victoria Street,
Painted green with bitumen roof.
Thrice weekly here the faithful meet.
Few and older now they’re living proof
That here – years ago - in a better time
God once moved in wonder and sign.
3
Soldiers with the cross we’d go;
We preached the Gospel without fear.
Militant witness to high and low,
Cared not for fools who’d mock and leer.
Fellowship and songs, ‘O happy day,’
‘What happened to us,’ I often say.
4
No longer do the members live near,
Long gone to their suburbs – not far to go.
There’s grills at the windows because of fear
Of vandals whose names we do not know,
There’s decay, with its awful accusing finger,
And fond memories that hesitate to linger.
5
Faded vision and forgotten dream,
Where once the fire burned bright.
Shut out thoughts of what might have been,
When once brightly shone our light.
Too old, too tired, now to move
And stubbornness still has a point to prove.

6
The tired old organ still plays Sankey
At Miss Gulliver’s funeral pace.
Hymnals passed out by old Fred Smithy
Handshake and genuine smile on his face.
And all is the same as it was before,
As its been since just before the war.
7
Last month some girls and a local lout
Sauntered in and sat at the back.
And for giggling and noise were soon sent out
With tut tuts for the manners they lack.
In Victoria Street Hall I’m afraid you’ll find
No Gospel here for them and their kind
8
Surrounded now by pagan host,
Competing now with temple and mosque.
Behind each door the honestly lost;
O Lord, from their eyes remove the mist.
You love them all, even know their name
To you it matters not from whence they came.
9
Always faithful, though not triumphant
Yesterday’s keen young song,
Looks back in vain to find the point,
When we changed and it all went wrong.
Too deadly and subtle was the decline,
It just crept in without notice or sign.
10
With interest we hear of the Spirit’s move
But somewhere else, this is no surprise.
In each generation God pours His love,
Through those who reject all compromise.
His march goes on from age to age,
But our story is written on yesterday’s page.

Had I been born a Welshman

Had I been born a Welshman,
my mam would have called me Dai
For Wales I’d have played rugby
And at Twickenham scored a try.
I’d be in the Pontypool front row
A half ton of blubber from head to toe

I would have had a golden voice
And sing in a male voice choir
To be a school teacher would be my choice
But be mistook in the street for Max Boyce
With his dark curly hair and sideburns
But alas, not the money he earns.

Had I been born a Welshman
My granddad would have been a miner,
I’m sure he would have known Lloyd George
And I would always vote Labour.
Yes, I’d carry the torch for my valley
But vacation each year in Miami.

Of course I would speak such perfect Welsh
And pronounce those difficult long names
And I’d know the best way to cook leeks
And be glad we had Welsh language telly
To keep the language going we must try,
Though I myself would always watch Sky.

The coal mines are all gone you see
And we’re not much good in a factory,
Only the grass for our sheep is now free
I’m going to have to become a Tory
And the evil EC with that crafty old Kinnock
Would have the whole place as a tourist resort

Such chapels and churches I’ve never seen,
They’re scattered o’er the land like confetti
Here for the revival you should have been
But did it leave us a legacy?
We should be the most Godly place on Earth
Instead we’re just a spiritual dearth.

So keep a welcome in the valley
When I come home to Wales.
‘Cause I have a good job in Bromley,
And good pay from computer sales
Yes I like to visit the Rhonda
But I’m glad I don’t have to live there.

Making me a very lucky husband

It is Grace's birthday on Friday. Still young at heart, ridicoulsly healthy, full of energy and keeping busy. If she ever dies (which I doubt) her body should be donated to some university to study just how she could keep up her work rate for 100 years.

My best ever poem?

I love writing poetry - always have done. This one might be the best I have written so far:

LOST VOICES

An Englishman and a Refugee.

The Englishman

Some want, they say, to win the West for Allah?
But most just want to live in a place without squalor.
But why are we so surprised and what is there to fear?
We went to their land long ago and now they have come here.
We did it with a mighty sword, and with a gun and bow.
We went to reap a harvest there, and one we did not sow.
We took the Lionheart’s so-called Christian cross,
But our main aim was worldly gain, but for them just loss.

The Refugee

There’s wealth o’er there, so we must go, and take ourselves a share.
Live a life worthwhile, and in some comfort, without care.
We are despised here for our race, and even our ethnicity,
We live in fear of tyrants - evil men who know no pity.
Let’s start again in the English World, that world we know is better.
Go West young man and dig for gold, in a land without fear or fetter.
We are the brave, and it can’t be worse, than staying here with hate,
So we must go, goodbye dear ones, no danger is too great.


It was for gain and not the cross that took us over there,
With pious words from pious hearts we said the hypocrite’s prayer.
We took the cross with Livingstone and many other good men,
Who packed their clothes in coffins – they went to say their final ‘amen’.
At Port Harold on the Shire, the saints came in and slaves went out.
Freetown became a garbage dump, we failed it without a doubt.
Our missionary cry has always been ‘Where’re the sun’.
Now ‘Wind of change’ has blown them all, from here to kingdom come.


The delta-like tendrils of the sad Ref-highway,
Leak souls along its troubled and doubt-filled way.
Night crossings over frozen hills on ancient shepherds’ trail,
Terror on boats not worth the name, we’ll try again if we fail.
Balkan village and urban slum - but somehow the weary paths of most
Converge of course, on Calais’s weary, troubled coast.
The conman’s twisted smile that says he’ll always ‘See you right.’
No other place for us will do, its to England with all our might.


‘Would Gracie Fields still sing, ‘There’ll always be an England’?
Or Touber, ‘Gather lilacs in the spring again’, if now they saw our land?
They sang in days – now long gone – when Britannia flexed her muscle,
And we believed that truth you know: ‘An Englishman’s home is his castle,’
Have we built Jerusalem, in this green and pleasant land?
Second to none, or so we thought; built by God’s own hand.
We saw everyone right, with largess great, is anything wrong with that?
The way we are we want to stay, and keep our welcome mat.

We must attain this promised land, where all are housed and free,
Medicines and homes and warmth and Social Security.
And sympathy for strangers with foreign tongues and foreign dress,–
We know you owe us not a thing, except the milk of human kindness.
Where no one hungers; hospitals free, and babies safely delivered,
And if we should be so blessed, the love of Christ to souls so favoured.
The gold that paves your streets, taken for granted, by naïve native,
And wondered at by wide-eyed strangers, who come here just to live.


This sceptred isle,’ so blessed by God, has long and proudly always been
Safest place you’ll find, for Tutsi, Gypsy, Serb, Koren, and anyone in between.
Tamil and tribally disenfranchised - the Afars and the Issas,
The Khorsa, and all the Hottentots; from Zim and Zam and Cong and Mal,
And Moz and Som and Alg and Ind and central this, and eastern that,
And outer we know no where. There’s even some from Monsurat.
Its our ways and hard-won rights that you must learn,
We took you all and saw you right, asked little in return.


The train now standing… holds more than meets the eye.
Articulated transport beckons – is the price too high?
Hard borrowed cash for economy class, an airport like a city!
Remember now to lose your docs, and be cast upon their pity.
‘I’m stateless, homeless, paperless, speechless, hopeless,
But surely not worthless - world citizen am I in deep distress.
Can’t understand a thing you say, patient words on me are lost,
I’ve learned to say the least I can, and I’ve learned it to my cost.


Its changing us too much you know, we’ve gone the extra mile.
The temples and the Mosques – some full of hate and bile.
Why can’t you play our game? - Accept our political stance?
Here we pay our income tax, and National Insurance,
And live in homes all clean and smart the best in all the world.
Is it too much to ask, that you love our flag unfurled?
If you can just but live like us, then we’ll be colour-blind.
And now you fill us all with fear, we who are to strangers kind.


But my home? by God it was forgotten! I do not tell a lie,
He used up all His goodness on you sir and left the rest to cry.
He gave you all you have sir, oh won’t you share with me?
Can you not show your gratitude and help me to live free?
Is ‘The quality of mercy strained’ in this green and pleasant land?’
I’m stateless, lost and hopeless now, O won’t you take my hand?
Can you close professional heart, to all my tears and woe?
How can you play it ‘by the book’ and tell me I must go?


There’s just too many, can’t you see, on this small piece of land;
Perhaps if you could go back home, with new wealth in your hand.
Be kind to them back home, as we were so kind to you,
And see them right, and isn’t this, the least that you can do?
This land was made for us you know, so thank you very much!
Don’t talk to us of a changing world, diversity and such.
Its just the way we are. So you mind yours, and we’ll mind ours,
Don’t bother us with change or continents full of wars.


‘Asylum.’ Is the only word, that I can speak to you,
I’m fearful and embarrassed, what am I to do?
I am your problem now sir; you have to see me right.
I beg you not to send me back on next available flight.
You are so kind to me sir, you do not shout, or sneer or push,
Or scold me, beat me, revile me, cost me, chain me, but oh I wish,
One thing above all these sir, will you not be my friend?’
Is this too much to ask sir, and have you love to spend?


Has God not seen the pagan hoard who dare to come
Over here and just don’t love, His one and only Son?
Has He not seen the government, and does He not take note?
Cynical, vying for their marginal, ethnic, bribed-for vote?
I guess He must have a reason, He rules all history.
We know He had a great desire for every tribe to be free.
We took the cross, but now they’ve come to us with beards and burkas,
And turbans and idols its all too strange, how can we match the love He has?


Would you not do the same sir, if your child cried hungry and cold?
If your house leaked rain and snow, I’m sure you’d be as bold.
Are we so bad, beyond the pale, that we have so little of such,
And are you so good, are you so good, that you have so much?
Where is your God, what colour is He? Does He speak my tongue?
Or know the name I threw away? That name of which I’m fond.
My father told me and my uncle too – as they sent me into the night,
That England’s powerful loving God, would surely see me right.


‘Lord, if a Prince from Africa, can take and wash my plate,
And hopeful, want to love me as his long-lost mate.
With a smile as wide as Kansas, and cheerfully embrace,
If God can take his anguished loss, and wipe it from his face.
Then surely I can hear God’s voice and feel His heart for you.
‘God save the queen’ and all her kin and all her subjects too.
Lift scales from eyes and help me see, the harvest all around.
And may the stranger echo long, those words of Madam Gyon:
‘All scenes alike engaging prove, to those impressed with sacred love,
Regions none, remote I call. Secure in finding God in all.’

John Miles 2009

Keeping up the old skills

Disgusted with the cricket, I retired to my shed, where I am building a dolls house for Kira, my youngest granddaughter, who is not yet three. I built one for the older two many years ago. That one has crossed the Atlantic twice! In a previous life, I built dozens of dolls houses - I earned a living at this with my friend Brian, who has long been promoted to glory.

This one is more challenging than the previous ones, because it has to come apart (not accidentally) to be flat-packed and taken on an aeroplane. All good fun.

We now have our first grandson, Isaiah. If I am going to maintain my excellent record for gender stereotyping, I must build him something like a fort or a garage, or both. However, he is only six months old so I have plenty of time.

Sierra & Kaeli - gorgeous granddaughters

Keeping busy

NEWS

Our work in Africa is at a lower level than before now that we are supposed to be 'consultants'. Perhaps people don't have much confidence in us because very few consult us! Then some that do, ignore what we say.



We have been in contact with long-time friends in Romania, where the ministry first began. They are begging us to make a visit soon. We will try to do this.



In October we are going to Turkey for two weeks with Paul and Kate. One week will be a conference and one week holiday.



In November we have been asked to go to Moscow. John is one of the UK board members for the Institute for Bible Translation, and he will represent the UK board at their annual gathering in Moscow. The IBT operates from a monastery on the banks of the Moscow river. A large team of translators work on the 150 non-Slavic languages of Russia. Forty million people in the east and south of Russia have no Bible in their mother tongue. One resident was given a scripture portion in their own language for the first time and said "God speaks my language". Another said "I thought God was a Russian".



It will be our second vi st to Moscow. We were there in 1988 for a different reason - but still to do with giving people the scriptures in their own language. We are looking forward to a more relaxed trip this time. Unfortunately, Lorna, Paul and Lucy will not be with us this time.

Its all very confusing.

Still trying to learn about this blogging life

Tour De France - go Cavendish go.

Time

Oh time, that subtle thief of youth,
Has scant regard for the eternal truth,
That eventually, will come the day,
When he, at last, will pass away.

Hurrying on through allotted span,
His mocking flight from finite man,
But God is your master, He alone,
Can your headlong rush postpone.

He has no pity on youth’s fair show,
Cares nought for summers bounteous flow,
His patience long through autumn’s haze,
His cold reward, is winter’s grave.

His friends are few and far between,
Like Greenwich, and quartz and ‘might-have-been.’
Diaries and deadlines, the ‘morning call’.
‘Last chance’, and clocks, cruel tyrants all.

He marks each man’s appointed hour,
To bloom, then fade, like summer’s flower;
To wither as the sun-bleached blade,
Of grass, short-lived and doomed to fade.

So much would I achieve each day,
If time would cease his rush and stay;
I’d do good deeds, great mountains climb,
Enrich the world, if I only had time.

A rich man would give all his wealth,
For one more year, enjoyed in health,
What good his wealth? It will not save
That man one hour from the waiting grave.

Through Christ I can escape his pain;
Through Christ, the locust’s fill regain,
Redeem the wasted years ill-spent;
Each moment now, a gift heaven-sent.

Each day’s potential, who can tell?
Its trickle flows to eternal swell.
Eternal life’s great flowing course,
Begins in time, its opening source.

O come the hour, that is the last!
When sun’s last shadow o’er Earth is cast;
When cease the morn and daily chime;
And this tired Earth runs out of time.