Saturday, March 26, 2011

INDIANA BONES - Digging Up My Midwestern Roots

I was born in a hospital in Louisville, Kentucky, even though my parents lived across the river in New Albany, Indiana at the time. So it's 'Louisville' on the birth certificate. There was a year or so we lived in Louisville proper when my dad pastored a congregation there. I was in kindergarten I believe. I can still picture the average working class neighbourhood of small-to medium-sized wood-panelled and brick houses (ours was red brick I think). Three or so concrete steps and metal rails composed what we had of a back porch. (I ripped my lips off when I tore my open mouth away from those frozen rails one winter. True story.) In the house we had a ‘den’ that was off the kitchen by a step down, in which I loved to run madly round in circles, arms held out to my sides, lips vibrating in a buzzing noise, whenever my parents would play the ‘Flight of the Bumblebee’ record on the couch-sized wood-cased record player.

But the rest of my upbringing was an Indiana one and I’m very much a product of Middle America, the Midwest more specifically, Indiana in particular: I grew up on the East Side of Indianapolis, the capitol city (in Marion County). I’m a product of wide-open flat cornfields and cow pastures punctuating working and middle class neighbourhoods, mostly a dozen or more miles out of downtown but still part of the greater metropolis of ‘Indy’. I’m a product of big blue skies, of cold white winters, warm wet springs, long hot summers, and crisp bittersweet autumns. I’m a product of tight electric air before a fierce downpour of rain and of the never-seen-with-my-own-eyes terrifying rumour of a nearby tornado, the aftermath of which could be seen plainly on the evening news or on a drive through a nearby town. Grassy Creek Elementary School regularly had 'tornado drills', rows of children with their heads between their knees lined along the corridor walls like folded up bugs.

My most formative years were the decade of age seven to seventeen—the 1980s. So I’m Ronald Reagan, John Cougar (Mellancamp), Michael Jackson, Run DMC, Bryan Adams, Max Headroom, Mad Max, Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, Jim Henson, John Carpenter, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Michael J. Fox, MTV, The A-Team, Manimal, Automan, PacMan, Space Invaders, Atari, Commodore 64, Donkey Kong, Q-bert, Alf, The Cosby Show, Facts of Life, Eight Is Enough, Different Strokes, Family Ties, Magnum P.I., Knight Rider, Miami Vice, Ocean Pacific, Panama Jack, Bahama shorts, parachute pants, muscle shirts, bandannas, Vans, Air Jordans—whatever came down the pike, I guess.

I was a pastor’s kid, a churchgoing boy in a devout, fairly 'low church' Southern Baptist-cum-Jesus-Movement family. My Dad was a working class post-hippie rock’n’roller who, still rooted in this half of his identity, became also a seminary-trained pastor-evangelist. That pretty much defined us culturally as a family. Stacks of rock'n'roll records and shelves of theology books. Loud music and Bible reading. Rock concerts and churchgoing.

I grew up on all the stories from the Bible (mostly learned in ‘Sunday School’ every Sunday at church). I knew them all forward and back by the time I was ten probably. I mean I really did – there wasn’t really any bit of the Bible I hadn’t heard of, wasn’t familiar with. I thrilled to many parts of it, but regardless, it was just the air I breathed. The God of Moses and David and Jesus and Paul felt very near and real, across the Eastern ages right down to me and my Western adolescence. I also discovered Greek and Norse mythology at the elementary school library and soaked myself especially in the Trojan War with those mighty heroes Ajax and Achilles and Hercules. Oden and Thor and Loki were only dipped into but I had deep respect for Thor as my Norse Hercules. Books on Trolls and Goblins and Ogres were also much appreciated with awe and some fear. ‘Factual’ books about, on the one hand, dinosaurs in the incomprehensibly remote past, and, on the other hand, flying cars, wrist-watch video phones, rocket ships, and colonised moons and planets in the surely oh-so-attainable, not-too-distant future also supplied part of the standard imaginative fare of those years.

And comic books: I preferred (and still do) Marvel over DC any day of the week. Reasonable respect to Superman, Batman, Green Lantern, the Flash and their ilk. But, for me, it was really all about X-Men, Spiderman, Hulk, Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Avengers, Micronauts, Moon Knight, ROM, Ghost Rider, and the rest of that inexhaustibly inventive throng.

And a fairly random assortment of novels and stories. Some childhood standards like Where the Wild Things Are, Where The Red Fern Grows, Old Yeller, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (and even the lesser known Charlie and the Glass Elevator), Ralph S. Mouse, White Fang, Call of the Wild and that sort. But also some standards and some bypaths of fantastic literature: Chronicles of Narnia, Chronicles of Prydain (Lloyd Alexander), The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, Screwtape Letters, Edgar Allan Poe to mention some of the more memorable tomes.

And, of course, the popular movies: Star Wars, Indiana Jones, E.T., Goonies, Uncle Buck, Fletch, The Jerk, Blade Runner, Princess Bride, Back to the Future, Ghost Busters, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Road Warrior, The Thing, Dark Crystal. (Some of these were sneaked.) It seemed like a magical decade for a boy.

Baseball and basketball and football were in the air and on the television. Super Bowl, Rose Bowl, Orange Bowl, World Series, NCAA, NBA, NFL: they’re part of who I am as an American, but I never truly cared for them, even when I sincerely tried to (I was pretending, playing a role, which was fun for a short while). I played soccer for eleven seasons, enjoyed it, played well on defense, and I wrestled for a few years in junior high, enjoyed it too, but dropped out after a few seasons, unwilling to hack the intense and frequent practices. I tried skateboarding latterly but only liked the music, the ‘look’, and the general counterculture associated with it. I was pretty terrible at it. But even without much sports or athletics, I spent many long hours outdoors exploring woods, climbing trees, wading in creeks, chasing and play-fighting with friends at all hours of day and night in all seasons.

I had a sort of ‘puppy-love’ girlfriend or two, danced at a few dances, longed and pined secretly, tried my hand at a love poem or two, held hands whenever I could, and eventually got way over-committed in a few late teen relationships.

Somewhere around sixteen, two life-shaping things happened. One was that I became self-aware of a huge disenchantment with mainstream culture and what it cared about and was struck with the desire to strike out and figure out a way to ‘be different’, which I did as best I could as a Midwestern kid. (I’d been unconsciously seeking this for some years.) After some misspent early teen years courting heavy metal, I now finally and fully discovered punk rock and realised this was the main musical medium for me. I began scheming to sing in a band.

The other was that my latent, childhood, familial faith woke up with a vengeance and I experienced God in a profound way like I never had before. It swept me right off my feet and switched on an insatiable spiritual thirst and hunger that sent me questing after Jesus (because his was the only divine voice that called to me and he was the one who jumped inside my soul when I said ‘ok, Sir’). Reading the Bible, praying, going to church, ‘evangelising’ others became exquisite peaks of experience, not chores at all. Make of it what you will, I whole-heartedly and besottedlyloved Jesus in blissful naivety and blessed simplicity. My time of running from that and furtively returning would come a little later.

Growing up I was generally an incurable underachiever. From first grade onward I ended each year with an overflowing folder of backed-up schoolwork that, if I and my parents promised I would finish, then the school would pass me on to the next grade. I was a lazy daydreamer. Schoolwork was hard work (because it required focus and sustained attention, not necessarily because I couldn’t understand or perform the work) and imagining fantastic tales in my head constantly and easily overtook my mind and pleasurably passed hours on end, at school and at home. I had an inexhaustible wide-screen, full-immersion cinema in my own head and the temptation to look inward and enjoy the epic entertainment there was just too great for my young undisciplined soul, especially when the alternative prospect was schoolwork.

A few teachers did manage to get me writing some small amounts of poetry and fiction in the early years, which they (along with my parents) encouraged me I had a gift for. I loved it. But I was too lazy to do much of the hard work of getting all that wonderful stuff out of my head and onto paper. At some point I discovered this little alternative called ‘song lyrics’. Those came thick and fast and easy. I was a writer from the depths of my soul and I simply had to write and I was profoundly relieved to finally discover that lyric writing was the path of least resistance for me. (Choosing to follow this path, though successful to a certain degree, would also keep me undisciplined for any other form of creative writing for decades to come.) The songs I wrote were total crap for the entirety of my teenage years and I’m completely torn about having lost all my notebooks full of that trash. I’m so glad the world will never have the slightest chance of seeing them. Yet wouldn’t I love the morbid, macabre thrill of looking over them and ruefully relish the resultant cringing and self-loathing?

But I had found what I liked and, more importantly, what I could actually do. It wasn’t until I’d graduated high school that band members finally came along and it wasn’t until I was married a few years later that the opportunity for putting some of those songs out permanently arrived. I liked what I did. Lots of other people did too. (That surprised me, but, without meaning too, I just took the approbation in stride and kept at the craft with pleasure and not a little pain too.) I was never entirely happy with anything at all that I created, but I kept seeing potential in it that I hoped I could ‘get right’ the next time (which always became the next time after that).

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Mid-Western Pioneer Dialect: "Them Pea Ridge folks is all hatefuls, an' if they'r a-lookin' fer trouble they'll shore get a lavish of it"

'In speech, as in blood, the Middle Westerner of the pioneer period was essentially "American" - that is, his language was a blend, with the Southern Appalachian element generally predominating. The speech of the southern highlands was a survival of Anglo-Saxon of the Elizabethan Age, with some "Scotch-Irish", "Pennsylvania Dutch", and Indian influences. Description is difficult... Strong verbs were made weak and weak verbs strong. The mountaineer "blowed", "ketched", "drawed", "knowed", "seed", and was "borned"; but he also "clum", "div", "retch", "drug", "et", "snuck", and "skun". Old forms were common. He "taken" things to town, and he "heered" or "hearn say." "Affeared" for "afraid", and "et" for "ate" were good English ancestry. Cases, moods, auxiliaries, relatives, agreement of subject and verb, as well as tense, were treated with true Elizabethan indifference: "Me and her was a-sparkin," "Hit shore is me," "She seed he and I a-comin' down the road."

'Yourn", "hisn", "hern", "ourn", and "theirn" were commonly used possessives. Adjectives served as adverbs: "I could ketch him easy"; as verbs: "I shore didn't aim t'contrary that ol heifer fr'm Hell Holler," "Hit darknin' out doors," "He'll sly outen the law"; and as nouns: "Them Pea Ridge folks is all hatefuls, an' if they'r a-lookin' fer trouble they'll shore get a lavish of it"; verbs as adjectives: "He warn't thoughted [intelligent] enough"; and as nouns: "Did you all get the invite (or give-out)?" Nouns were used as adjectives: "Them dang fool houn' dogs," and as verbs: "Don't fault th' young-un jes' fer bein' puny," "That 'ar shoat'll meat th' hull fambly a month, easy," "Waitin' so purty and patientable to bride her man."

'Beyond the knowledge of Elizabethan forms, or grammar and idiom, is required an understanding of the spirit of the folk who created this speech. The frontiersman refused to be restricted in style by law of grammar no less than law of Parliament or Congress. Clearness in expression was preferred to grammatical correctness, and brevity to clearness... Pronunciation and emphasis played an important part, but grammatical shift of parts of speech, word compounding, word coining, use of obsolete comparatives and superlatives, together with imaginative and picturesque speech figures, added appreciably to the expressiveness. Double identifying nouns such as "kitchen-room", "shootin'-iron", "rifle-gun", "ham-meat", "ridin'-critter", "man-person", and "cow-brute" were common, as well as such obvious compounds as "carrytale", "lackbrain", "wantwit", "breakvow", and "clutchfist."

'There were compounds, such as "tale-bearing" and "lie-swearing." Adjective compounds came easily: "sweet-meaty," "hind-leggy," "dumb-brutely," "sheepsy," "stuff and non-setty"; and compounded superlatives were effective: "mud-piedest," "dry-uppedest," "shut-pocket'dest," "sought-afterest," "up-and-comin'-dest," "nothin'-doin'dest," and "flea-huntin'dest." Hybrids with borrowed prefixes and suffixes were created: "disremember," "ingrateful," "onsartin'," "unproper," "unthoughtedly," "disturbment," "revilement," "sadful," "argyfy," "teachified," and so on, as well as words with diminutives or redundant suffixes such as: "tittery," "tumbly," "withery," "frecklsy," "quicksy," "slickery," "tickle-sweety," "stillsome," "patientable," and "virginous."

'Vocabularies were rich, flexible, and sometimes strong. Such words as "brash" (hasty, brittle), "bound" (determined), "beatenest" (hard to beat), "bresket" (energy), "bee-gum" (beehive), "clever" (kind, accommodating), "cazan" (cause), "crick" (creek), "dunk" (dip), "dauncy" (half-sick), "enjoy" (entertain), "fitten" (decent), "lavish" (a large quantity), "guess" (think), "heap" (a great deal), "middlin'" (fair, tolerable), "passel" (parcel, of people, etc.), "poke" (bag), "powerful" (exceedingly, extraordinary), "racket" (fight), "ruction" (quarrel), "reckon" (guess, wonder), "red up" (tidy up), "whang" (thong), "swan" (swear - "I swan," etc.), might necessitate a glossary for one unfamiliar with the speech. But "contrarious," "cumfluttered" (confused), "caterwampus," "flopdoodle," "fractious," "mozy," "ornery," "peart," "piddlin'" (trifling or puttering around), "sashay," "triflin'," and "tetchous" (touchy) are practically self-explanatory. More expressive still are descriptive words and phrases such as "fritter-minded," "gone franzy," "plumb moonshined," "buck-eyed," and "hippoed" (applied to mental states), "lickety splittin'," "lickety brindle," "gimlet-eyed," "chisted out" (swelled up), "sow-belly" (pork), "granny woman" (midwife), "woodscolt" (illegitimate child), and "lollygagin'" and "tomcattin'" (applied respectively to slushy and promiscuous sexual behavior).

'This was the foundation speech of the majority of the folk who populated southern Illinois and Indiana, predominated in parts of Ohio, and figured prominently in the settlement of the northern parts of these states as well as in Wisconsin and to a certain extent in Michigan...

'The western man ripped out remorseless oaths, swearing a blue streak with a remarkable breadth of expression. Whereas a Hoosier described himself as "catawampously chawed up," the Yankee was merely a "gone sucker." Inquire about his health, and he tells you he is "so as to be crawlin'!" As one contemporary observed: He talks of "spunkin' up to an all-fired, tarnation, slick gall, clean grit, I tell yeou neow"; and naturally he has a "kinder sneakin' notion arter her." If she were to tell him to "hold his yawp" he would admit that he felt "kinder streaked, by golly!" He describes a man as being "handsome as a picter, but so darnation ugly"; or as "a thunderin' fool, but a clever critter as ever lived" - ugly being Yankee for wicked, and clever for good-natured...

'Naturally current events affected speech. For example, anyone knew in the 1830's that "to swarthout" (after Samuel Swarthout of New York) meant to default and flee. To "go the whole hog" meant to have refreshment or to vote a straight ticket; "to have steam up," ready to go. When political ferment or reform movements got to humming, people were warned "not to mistake the whizzing of the safety valves for the bursting of the boilers." "Have you seen the elephant?" must have originated as a result of the tour of the great pachyderm. The question (and answer) usually had connotations but remotely related to menageries. When a man had "seen the elephant" he had been everywhere, seen everything, perhaps was, in the language of a later period, "fed up"...

'Of folklore, proverbs, and superstitions, the West had no distinctive variety, and made few original contributions. The most-used gems of wisdom were those which had stood the test of time - those used in colonial times, in England, Germany, even in ancient lands. "Buying a pig in a poke," "A chip off the old block," "He cut a real swath," "A hard row to hoe," "He's been through the mill," "He'll never amount to a hill of beans," "He's come to the end of his rope," "Short horse soon curried," "It comes and goes like the old woman's soap," and hundreds of others, saws and sayings as well as proverbs, which comprised a considerable part of ordinary speech, antedate the new West.

'Nor can the habit of the smart answer or "wisecrack" be said to be indigenous to the West, although it certainly was characteristic. To his tall tales, practical jokes, and witty replies the Westerner gave his peculiar twist - and how he loved them. To the greeting "How do you do?" a keen citizen would reply, "About as I please, stranger, how do you do?" If he were asked, "Where does this road go?" he might aptly observe, "Don't go nowheres, mister, stays right there." If asked how his potatoes turned out, he would say, "Didn't turn out at all, had to dig 'em out." And so on. Such pat answers were used over and over on friends as well as strangers, and never seemed to die out as do slang and current expressions. The river boatmen, professional teamsters, later the lumberjacks and other workers with a vocational pride or esprit de corps, had their special collections; the reputations of such heroes as Mike Fink and Paul Bunyan rested as much upon their ready wit as upon prodigious feats of valor and skill. The embarrassing question, the successful baiting of a rival, above all the riposte verbale were often more decisive than a fight, and longer remembered.

'Though the common speech was less used by the educated and those of wider contacts, still there was always a tendency for even these classes to speak with somewhat less grammatical correctness and propriety of diction than they had knowledge of. Correct pronunciation and too much attention to diction was put in the same category as fastidiousness in dress, and was regarded as "stuck up." Lawyers who aspired to office, newspaper editors, even preachers, had to be careful about such matters. To many, however, such precaution was unnecessary. Not too exceptional was the legislator from Columbiana County, Ohio, who spoke of the "hebias kawus law" and referred to "Jefferson's immanuel" address. "Zelious," "magnanimious," "scurlious," "philanthripic," "embazzle," "inoquivocably," "reitriate," and "oughter" were favorites with him. He was reported as using "rise up enmassey" and saying "his garden are cut, his house are kept by the state."

'Lack of acquaintance with books and a knowledge of the classics, history, and philosophy was ordinarily no handicap to the active-minded Westerner. He relied heavily upon personal contacts, conversations, and firsthand knowledge. "Fluency of language, with an ease and power of expression which sometimes swells to the dignity of eloquence, and often displays itself in terms of originality, at once humorous and forcible, constitute the conversational resources of the western man."'

-R. Carlyle Buley (1951), The Old Northwest: Pioneer Period 1815-1840, Indiana University Press, Bloomington

Monday, March 14, 2011

The Behemoth cum Leviathan cum Cherubim cum Seraphim Monsters of Heaven and Earth Meta-flesh Manifesto


Shining wake-mire boils!

White-haired deep heaves!

(Heap it up! Heap it up!)

Mud sucks under-flux, cuts,

cracks creep across earth mantle cover-crust

High Beast beats low, sneezes flame

(and all the lovers say: ‘My heart leaps up!')

Lumbering limbs laughingly lift heavenward,

crush cumbrous, shut up in scales,

flails tails log-like, slashing,

mighty afraid of his crashings

‘Who can open the doors of his face, with his terrible teeth all around?’

What spatial strictures on Creation’s facial features?

Deep sea creatures, deep space structures,

Oh, gargantuan form and frightening frame

Frolic before the Omnipotent!


A hundred eyes burning from a body

Thunderous winging wondrous, ringing

graced, four-faced (Lion! Ox! Eagle! Man!)

molten glowing metal showing

moves of cloven hooves,

awesome rims of wheels full of eyes

under fiery whirlwind skies

engulfed in jagged jumping lightning-flame,


of the white-hot engine

beneath the great white


Abyss assailing abyss

in this unveiling instance of the Omnipresence!

While a giant hand knocks on the shoddy sky,

a Voice turns my bones turn to water:

‘Child, child, child,

let me in before the night comes.’

Many Dimensions in Unison:

Every tribe, tongue, nation

revels in the revelation Omniscient!

Exponential thousands of experiential

multi-dimensional creatures in the deafening ecstatica

to the Voice of the Mysterion!


‘Will you put a hook in his nose,

leash him for your maidens?

Lay your hand on him:

Remember the battle—Never do it again!’

The Teachers, The Preachers

The Four Living Creatures

flanked Him with triple sanctum


in the Omnisophical scheme

of Yahweh Elohim.

logos pistis dunamis theos

And underneath are the everlasting arms

logos pistis dunamis theos...

The Maker Speaks:

Seven eyes!

Seven horns!

The Lamb that was torn

scorns the shame

breaks the seals

reveals the Name!

Fearsome roaring of the Lion of Praise…

It’s the

Saturday, March 12, 2011


We send greetings of grace and peace to you all in Jesus Christ. We give sincere thanks to all of you who pray for us and support us in various ways. We thank God for his provision and care through you.

2010 was a year of major changes: my dad died in late February; my four years with UCCF (Universities & Colleges Christian Fellowship) came to an end in August; and in late September we started a church in our home and I enrolled as a part-time student at the University of Glasgow. Much prayer went into the decision to start a church, and it was especially with confirmation and encouragement from church family and leadership in Indianapolis that we stepped out in faith to do so. In the following report, I outline first what is going on with the church plant, then give a snapshot overview of how the family is doing, and lastly I try to tell some of the personal story of being called to our present course of action.

The Church

Who Comes?

The church (unnamed as of yet) has been going four months and they seem to have flown by. The same group that we started with are still coming: there is one other family besides ours: Travis and Alison with their four- and six-year-olds, Felix and Eirlin. There are also the ‘singles’: Malcolm, Val, Robin, Kirsteen, Helen, and Rachel. Helen’s American boyfriend, Wesley, was also with us until his return to California in January. Most were unchurched people at the time of joining with us. Some are from Christian families and some not. Many had been going to church as teenagers, became disillusioned with it at some point in university or after graduation, and hadn’t been going for several years. A few are still students at university, the rest are ‘young professionals’.

What Does a Sunday Morning ‘Service’ Look Like?

There are a few in the fellowship with some background in leading musical worship, and when they are available to do so, we have a time of praising God through song before the teaching of his word. When there is no music, we have a time of open prayer. We have been studying through Luke’s Gospel and are currently on chapter six, slowly but surely seeing how Luke builds his portrait of Jesus that we might believe in him and follow him as his disciples. The teaching lasts for about an hour, including some time of open discussion since it is a small group (the sermon notes are available by clicking here on this text).

The young children stay in for the time of musical worship. Then our daughter Lydia, my wife Andrea, and Alison each take turns in rotation taking the children to the kitchen and leading them in an age-appropriate Bible time during the adult teaching time. The older children stay with the adults throughout. All the children say they very much enjoy having church in our home and they mix well with the adults, participate readily and freely in group discussions and ask questions with candour and perceptiveness.

What is the Fruit?

We have honestly been a bit surprised at signs of spiritual activity and growth even in this short time. Those coming have felt safe enough in our gatherings to voice their sincere and hard questions about the faith. They have been very open to such answers as we are able to give at this time and the continuing love and welcome they receive from the fellowship. Prayers offered aloud from those still seeking and searching, asking for God's help to believe and obey him are also encouraging signs.

Our small fellowship has also begun to really get to know one another and care for one another beyond Sunday mornings. They have been meeting socially during the week, supporting one another’s creative ventures outside church, and helping one another in various ways. Some of them even took our older children for an outing because they said they desired to get to know them better too. One of the single women hosted a ladies’ weekend in her parents’ house out in the hills of Balfron last month. We take these indications of sincere fellowship as yet more signs of God’s blessing.

Several of the people have also approached us expressing a desire to tithe to the church and we are in the midst of setting up a bank account for them to do so. This modest amount of money will be used to purchase coffee and tea for Sunday mornings and will otherwise be usefully saved toward the need of renting a public space in the city centre when we outgrow our living room. This willingness to give we also discern to be a sign of God’s work in their hearts.

How Will the Church Grow In Size?

As yet we are not ‘advertising’ the church to the city at large but are simply working with this small group that have naturally come together. The word is very slowly creeping out that we are having this meeting in our home and so others have expressed interest in visiting. We have no idea when this might cause us to grow beyond the house as a meeting place (we probably can’t hold more than about 15 people in addition to our family) but we feel led that it is best to let the fellowship grow in tiny trickles like this for now, through natural contacts and relationships, and by word of mouth as God draws people in.

Who Am I Accountable To?

I meet once a month with former colleagues from UCCF, Cully and Clive. They are both also in full time ministry and are married men with children. We spend about four hours together sharing, studying the Bible, and praying. At a more formal level, I am accountable to my pastor in Indianapolis, Dave Kosobucki, and the board of elders at Horizon Christian Fellowship Central, who ordained me as a pastor. I’m pleased to say that God has also provided Andrea with some women’s fellowship outside of the church through a handful of mums from the children’s school, one of whom is a pastor’s wife.

Our Family

The Children

Lydia, aged 15, will be entering Fifth Year of High School, in the autumn. Otto, aged 13, will enter Third Year; Jack-Lewis, aged 12, will enter his First Year of High School; and Hugo, aged 5, will enter Primary Two. Olive Ann is 14 months old. All are in good health. The three oldest children have each publicly professed faith in Christ over the past year or so and we are treating them as young disciples, trying to help them in their growth through Bible reading, prayer, and obedience to Jesus’ Lordship in all of life (creativity, studies, play, relationships, etc.).


Andrea still works as a full-time homemaker, caring for Olive Ann and running the household. Her health has not been good since being pregnant with Olive Ann and this has been a point of some stress and trial for us. I help out quite a bit with the house and kids and yet still she works hard from morning until evening managing the household. Added to this, of course, is hosting a church meeting in her home every Sunday. She has been very taxed and exhausted both emotionally and physically and has chronic back pain. Her doctor has started her on medication for an underactive thyroid and this has had mixed results. We are trying to carve out time for her to really rest and also for her creative endeavours, but it is difficult. As I said, she has some friends who give her some spiritual support and even the young women in the church have begun to offer to help if they can at various times. One other helpful development is that Travis and Allison live next door to us and are now beginning to host some of the Sunday mornings in their home, which gives us a welcome break.


I am able to attend university part-time for free due to our low income. I have been able to maintain good marks so far in my subjects, English Literature and Philosophy, but it is very difficult to meet university deadlines and requirements whilst keeping up preparation for Sunday teaching and also helping out quite a bit with children and home. For now, however, we believe this is the path I should be taking, acquiring learning and skills in these areas, and staying in touch with the world outside church by this means.

This picture of our family life looks busy and rather stressful, which is an accurate depiction. We surmise that it is a combination of being in a very demanding time of a large family that still has some small children in it, as well as the spiritual strain and struggle of birthing a church. We are trying to hold on and be faithful in what we have come to believe is God’s calling for us at this time in our life. We hope and trust he will sustain us, for his glory and our joy.

The Calling

In closing this report I want to share more personally about God’s calling on my life as I understand it at this time. I have tried to give as objective a report on the state of our mission here in Scotland as I can, for my own sake as well as for the information of our supporters.

For a handful of years now I have felt a keen homesickness for the States, particularly Indiana, the region in which I was raised. As a person of a philosophical and artistic bent, I am susceptible to perhaps overly intense and stirring emotions and ruminations. At this time in my life, though we have lived in Scotland nearly 9 years, I find that I feel rootless. We have, of course, adapted and acclimated to Scottish culture, and it is a beautiful culture and land, even though flawed (just like every other nation on this planet, including the one I come from originally).

Even though Scotland is a desirable and blessed place to live in many ways, still I often yearn rather piercingly to be back in the land that reared me, that I know so well in my bones (though in some respects it is no doubt changed beyond recognition to me, not least because I have myself changed whilst away). I sometimes long to be near family and old friends and familiar sights, sounds, places, weather and climate, landscape, peoples, customs and so on. Andrea does not share this feeling so keenly with me. She is more settled in Scotland, though she misses America at times. But over the past few years she has prayed and tried to trust God to lead the family aright through me as the husband and father.

I share all this, which may seem like a slightly abstract inward feeling, because it pertains to what I believe is God’s calling on my life at this time: though much of my heart would like to return to the States, I believe I have heard decisively from God that he does not permit us to return at this time.

In some desperation about two years ago, I literally prayed that God would allow us to return to the States, that he would bring this time of mission in Scotland to a close and permit us to move back. It was a very serious prayer for me to pray and I did not make the request lightly. It was a very momentous thing for me to approach God with this petition. I made my case before him and pleaded the painful longing and uprootedness in my heart. It brought me strangely close to God and made me freshly open to his voice.

In the period I awaited his answer, I happened to be reading through the Gospel of Luke in preparation for taking a group of students through its sequel, the Book of Acts. In the long middle section of the Gospel, chapters 9 through 19, Jesus speaks much of the cost of discipleship and I felt him speaking vividly and directly to my own soul like I have rarely heard the voice of God, in such phrases as:

  • ‘whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will save it’ (9:24);
  • ‘Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head… Follow me… Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God… No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God’ (9:58-62);
  • ‘If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple… first sit down and count the cost… Otherwise, when he has laid the foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, saying, “This man began to build and was not able to finish”… So therefore, any one who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple’ (14:26-33);
  • ‘Truly, I say to you, there is no one who has left house or wife or brothers and sisters or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not receive many times more in this time, and in the age to come eternal life’ (18:29-30).

I knew without doubt what God was communicating to me. I needed to be freshly willing to give up absolutely everything to follow him and obey his will for my life. My will was answering ‘yes, Lord’ in submission, but it took some time for my emotions and mind to settle into it. One evening I recall vividly, I sought space alone in our full and busy little house to pray very seriously to God about this again. I found Otto and Jack-Lewis’s bedroom to be empty and I knelt at their bottom bunk. With a deep and long sigh I told God aloud that I was saying ‘goodbye’ to America forever if that is what he required of me. I would live and work wherever he willed for however long he willed it. It was maybe the hardest thing I’ve done in my life so far. The next day is when I received the phone call from my sister back in the States that my dad was diagnosed with cancer and had six to nine months to live. My submission and resolve were immediately tested by fire.

During our visit to the States to bury my father six months later, the pastor and his wife and several others at Horizon Central in Indianapolis confirmed in no uncertain terms that I had the gift of being a pastor-teacher and they felt I should stay in Scotland and plant a church there. They were willing to ordain me for this purpose. They also encouraged me to enrol for university part-time so that I could fulfil God’s call on my life to develop the academic and creative passions that also feed into my pastoring and preaching. We received much needed encouragement and cheer from them and returned to Scotland resolved to start the church, the very beginning results of which you have read about above.

I still do not know how long God will call us to this: short term, long term, or lifelong—that’s up to him. We’re trying to hear and obey. I share all this because I want people to know where I’m coming from with this and why I’m doing it. It’s not been easy at all for me to come to this decision and it’s not always easy to stick at it. I still have stabs of yearning for the States and sometimes feel rather bewildered in trying to obey this call to pastoring. I do not feel triumphant—indeed, I feel more conquered than conquering! It is not all joy and glory and success. However, I do feel a quietly surprised sense of God’s hand of blessing on what we’re doing when I see the effect in the lives of the people that attend the church. At this point we are just trying to be faithful to his call and we hope we are open, attentive, and submissive to how he directs us in all of it. Right now, it seems to me that the need for us is here in highly un-churched Scotland rather than in the States. I try to remain very open to how God will guide. If he shuts doors and moves us on, my intention is to obey. We are very open to questions, counsel, and challenges, but we also very much need ENCOURAGEMENT and PRAYER.

Thank you so much for reading this lengthy report. It is from the heart.

Love in Jesus Christ our Lord,

Dan, Andrea, Lydia, Otto, Jack-Lewis, Hugo, & Olive Ann Petersen