Making Assumptions...Lowering Expectations...

I am making way too many assumptions here.

Our schedule today called for a day in the Teramo marketplace—where to our knowledge no church existed—to support a work to start a church. A handful of believers were to join us, distributing invitations for our ‘gallery’ (and I use the term loosely now) show next Saturday.

We would be working with a young family who hold a Bible study in their home, which they hope will become a church one day. Jonathan met us at the parking lot, and we unloaded books and literature, and our art supplies.

I assumed there would be well, a table, and a chair or two. What we really had was a space, between a fresh pile of dog poo and the Jehovah's Witnesses. The only table there was the one we brought to set up as our arts workstation, and that was promptly commandeered for the books. Oh well, maybe I misunderstood…but that left us with an improv act that would be tough to follow...but we did it!

Scouting the piazza, the team found some boxes and two plastic chairs—voila! Covering the piles of poo with scraps of paper, three on our team set to with face painting, and two other sets of three positioned themselves in other corners of the piazza, to do some artwork and hopefully engage with the public.

Three hours later, the drawing teams had nary a nibble, and returned to the book table, as we began to see face-painted children float past us. There, the line extended into the crowd, and a small group of people were gathered around Jonathan, animated and engaged with a group of people around him; he was giving out quite a lot of literature.

Three of us returned to the drawing in a nearby cafe. After trying two other locations, I am stumped to report that no one engaged with me or my team over artwork. That is a first, and seems yet another indication of the spiritual deadness of this region. Truly bizarre. The Italians seemed quite suspicious, even the children.

But overall, we had a good day, and I think the team has turned the corner. Last night there was high silliness around the dinner table, as yet another meal of pizza and watermelon was served. That deserves a post in itself, but for now let me just say, you haven’t lived till you have eaten cornflakes and nutella for dessert.

Oh, and we learned that there is indeed a church in the city, an Assembly of God denomination, and that was a great encouragement to Jonathan. Hopefully he has now found some compadres to help him in his work. And the pastor called from Germany to say he had one response already to the invitations given out--surely a great encouragement to him.

The night finished with an impromptu drawing class with the team and some Italian guests, to my great delight and more laughs and good cheer. I left the team to move to my new new room, happy and satisfied, mindful of how much prayer went up for us yesterday, and rejoicing in my spirit. This team is beginning to prove what it is made of, and God is fighting for us. We had so many messages of encouragement coming in via email. I fell asleep thanking God for each artist on the team, starting to fall in love with each one, and they with arts ministry. I think we’re going to make it.

Bowing Often

Today’s festivities could be summed up like the New England cliché about weather: “If you don’t like the new decisions and schedule, wait a few minutes because it will change!”

We learned this morning that some of us have to change quarters again, as a new group is arriving and needs our bedroom. So off we went—two of the artists and myself to another building.

When we asked about the gallery space in which we will be exhibiting, we learned we need to create the gallery space. Ah. And do we have things like trellis, chicken wire, etc.? Blank stares…”We can get some!” And if it rains? “Well, maybe we can borrow a tent."

Time to alter course again…we had another quick brainstorm, scrapping all but the simplest ideas, the quickest and easiest to execute in the time frame left (which seems to be dwindling by the day), and to focus in on what we can realistically get done, in view of the fact that we also need to create a gallery. The team is handling this better than I expected. They are pouting briefly, then renewing their efforts with energy and commitment. We will go to 7:30 tonight, then break for dinner, and maybe watch a movie. A little decompression before packing out tomorrow morning at 7:30 am for marketplace outreach.

I think we’ve reached that point of the outreach where things have gone so haywire, one must bow to the absurd. Bowing we are…and I’m proud of our team.

Speaking of bowing…and to put things in perspective:

About an hour ago, a man named Giovanni saw the sign at our entrance and knocked on the door. He is homeless after the quake and looking for food—could we help? We loaded him up with as much food and water as he could carry, listened to his story, and sent him off with prayers, some artwork, and a Bible. Overcome with gratitude, he said he could only offer one thing, and putting his hand on his heart, he bowed and said: “God bless you.”

Monkey Business

Today’s agenda: create artwork, and then visit a sister city, Teramo, to prayerwalk, learn some culture and history, and distribute flyers for our upcoming exhibit there next Saturday.

Agenda interrupted by spiritual monkey business: several on our team continue to be plagued by nightmares and demonic presence in the bedrooms. The pastor with whom we are working has been called to the bedside of his gravely ill mother-in-law, in Germany. He leaves today (Thursday). Our other contact in Teramo was not able to meet us in the city to show us around. And our van languishes in the mechanic’s garage…

So, agenda altered to include a solid time of prayer and worship, to push back the very oppressive darkness enveloping us. It is as if the heavens are closed off to us, that Satan rules here, and he is not about to let us do anything. He couldn’t be more wrong.

After some devotional time, we went outside. With the Gran Sasso mountain as our backdrop, we gathered around a campfire circle and performed three symbolic acts, prompted by our prayer leader at Transform, and one of our artists, who had experienced a demonic presence in her room the night before: first we poured water on the ground as a symbol of refreshment—the refreshment we hoped to bring L’Aquila (yet how much we needed it ourselves!). We then poured oil as a symbol of the softening of the soil of people’s hearts we were praying for. More prayer and song, and reading of the Psalms, as we circled the property and the campfire, recalling the promises of God and the truths we were operating in. Then back to the studio…

Our prayer time actually seemed a rather forlorn experience of discouragement; nevertheless, there was a shift. The artwork began to flow…our studio room began to fill with sketches, watercolors, and a collage. The pastor stopped by to give us his news, but assured us he would stop by again this morning to say goodbye. We were able to borrow another vehicle from the place where we’re staying, to visit Teramo.

For me, the most significant sign that God is with us greeted us for breakfast. Our artist from Hong Kong had made a simple stone sculpture with stones collected in L’Aquila. As we came to the dining table, light was flooding in from the window, casting a long, solid the shadow of the cross along our white table. And of course, the cameras and sketch pads came out…

“No weapon forged against you shall stand.”—Isaiah 54:17

L'Aquila

We’ve had two visits to the city now, and it couldn’t be more sobering. The devastation is so complete, one is tempted to think the best thing to do is bulldoze the town and rebuild elsewhere. Especially as the scientists warn that a second earthquake is preparing itself.

The town center, which we were told wasn’t open for us to do ministry in, has in fact opened recently. We walked with the Aquilinos on Sunday evening, down the main street and into the main piazza, in a hushed reverence as if we were all in a museum. The Italians were commenting to one another about various restaurants, cafes and shops: “This is where we used to meet for coffee…This is where my mother died…I worked in this building. If the earthquake had struck during the day, I would be dead now.”

A young lady in the church took us to the remains of her dorm, where she lost 8 friends, and narrowly escaped herself—and that down a human pyramid, students helping students escape after the stairwell collapsed. Photos of the victims were posted on a fence and a memorial across the street, along with flowers, poems, memorabilia. She turned away with a comment: “I wonder when my picture will be hanging on a fence.”

On another fence, lining a city block, a military vehicle is parked and several soldiers stand guard. The location is the site of a recent manifestation, and the fence is filled with keys: house keys, building keys, symbolic keys, keys with pictures attached, one key with a drawing of a kitten on it—tied with ribbon, rope or wire by demonstrators demanding to be let back in their condemned homes to see what they could salvage.

Scaffolding is the new city skyline. Every building seems wrapped in it, which gives the city an eerie, sculptural atmosphere. Doorways and windows are braced with 2x4’s. Windows are cracked and covered in plastic. Two homeless dogs sleep in the piazza.

The Aquilinos are in despair. Not the wailing, weeping, ranting kind, but the more dangerous kind: mute, numb, and apathetic. What good is it to hope, when corruption is rampant, another earthquake is coming, government officials are stealing funds designated to rebuild, the Catholic Church has been conspicuous by its absence of help, and the Italian character will not do anything about it? These are some of the comments we are hearing.

How do we pierce the numbness? Or do we? Do we sit, like Job’s friends, and mourn with the Aquilinos, or do we try to do something about it? We’re still discussing it, and beginning to sketch and draw out ideas. The Italian church would be happy with a simple distribution of literature; we’d like to go further. Pray for divine inspiration, patience and unity. We’ve got a long way to go till next week, when we are to exhibit in two locales, including the main piazza of L'Aquilino. May we prove worthy of the opportunity and privilege.

The Little Van That Couldn't

After our herky jerky ride up to Isola, we left in fear and trembling for church Sunday morning. But Frederico the van was not up for it, and gave up the ghost on the A24 to L'Aquila.

While our menfolk bent over the engine, wiggled wires and cleaned the carburator, we womenfolk did what we do best: bonding! Walking along the roadside, collecting discarded objects for possible art projects, we took pictures of ourselves with the Gran Sasso as a backdrop, and waved to the women walking over the overpass above us.

A round of prayer and our hero Edi finally got it started. We limped to church, which was held in a field next to the restaurant where we would have lunch. Since the earthquake, which collapsed the church building, the church has been meeting wherever they could find a space, sometimes splitting up into homes and meeting throughout the city. About 50 were gathered.

We had the privilege of witnessing three baptisms--truly an event in any European country--and enjoying a festive meal afterwards: fresh trout, salmon, white beans and pasta, salad watermelon. The obligatory nap in the lounge chairs completed a very long meal...of several hours...and then we were off to L'Aquila to survey the damage...

Frederico is now at the mechanic's for an indefinite hospitalization. Three of our number are experiencing nightmares. And our pastor/leader has been called to Germany for the serious illness of his mother-in-law. Yes, prayers would be in order.

Mount Sinai

Our trip to L’Aquila, was typically OM. We were the last team to leave—after our van was conscripted to transport several other teams back and forth to the train station or airport. Eight teams scattered through Italy; the ninth, ours, paced the lobby, read, drew, chatted, packed art supplies, laid by the pool, or ordered more cappuccino. At noon, we ordered the obligatory pizza, feeling that if we never eat another slice of pizza, we would be cool with that.

At about 4 in the afternoon, about six hours from our estimated time of departure, our field leaders sounded the signal, and we loaded the van. A team heading to the north of Italy were just pulling out of the parking lot; we waved them off with a shout, and then climbed into ours, after a cup of water.

At the edge of the parking lot, the van stalled. “A problem with the carburetor,” our driver shrugged, and restarted the van. We made it to the exit ramp—and stalled. Another restart, and we made it onto the highway—and stalled. We laid hands on the van from wherever we sat, and started again. This time we made it a few miles. By now we had bonded with our van, dubbing it ‘Federico.’ Our driver was a peach of a phlegmatic, just chuckling and shaking his head as he patiently restarted and restarted and restarted….ignoring the less patient drivers and honking horns that whizzed around us. And so we made our herky jerky way up into the mountains, to our lodging place in Isola della Gran Sasso, just past L’Aquila. A ten-kilometer tunnel was our final pass, emptying us out at the foot of the Gran Sasso.

“Welcome to Mount Sinai!” greeted the pastor of the church with which we would work. We exited the van in awe. Indeed it did seem to be Mount Sinai, as we craned our necks up and up to the top of the mountain, which was shrouded in a dark cloud, and wondered to what we had come.

Doo Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Doo…

Inexplicably, at 7:17 am in the Hotel Selene, I break out in a Herman’s Hermits song: “Singing doo wah diddy diddy dum diddy doo….” What?!?

I blame conference overdose, and hanging around with my friend Linda too much!

We are coming to the end of our two conferences. Eyes are at half-mast, waistlines are a little wider, dreams are a lot bigger. Songs are being sung in the hallways, brains (right and left) are full to explosion with new ideas, contacts, information, dreams, visions, plans and ruminations. Where do we go from here?

Having worked through our ‘stones’ and stories, having build a mosaic table, unity and friendship, having learned some cultural cues and our favorite flavors of gelato, we are about to scatter to the 22 countries of the Mediterranean. We will attempt to love God by loving its many people groups. He alone knows what we’re in for!

I have a new cell phone, loaded up with Italian emergency numbers, and a team looking at me with fear and trembling—single women from Canada, Hong Kong, Finland and England, one married Swiss man who lives in Austria, here without his family, an American man married to a German woman, living in Germany, here with his family, and a young man from Bryan College. As I write that list, the words of Ezekiel 37:3 come to mind, “Can these bones live?!” As Ezekiel answered, “You alone know, Lord!”

I’m optimistic. I’ve seen it happen over and over: vision cast, people as diverse as it can come uniting over their passion for art, and passion for Christ. I expect to see it again: God moving through artists making themselves available to Him.

Ten artists coming to Italy with their five paint tubes and two cameras, asking the Lord, “What good are these among so many?”—knowing God loves to multiply!

Soon we climb in a van, to be transported to L’Aquila, about one hour from here, in the Abruzzo Mountains. Let the outreach begin…