This photo was taken in Edam, Netherlands, earlier this year. We stopped here because I have a weakness for cheese. I took this simple photo as it demonstrates how different Holland is to my experience in Australia … and there is a fantastic cheese shop just up the lane with a really friendly shop keeper!
One of the things I like to do when I am travelling is to visit church buildings – not just the big fancy Cathedrals, but also small town churches and when in Norway, every Stave church I travel near.
I remember visiting Lincoln Cathedral and what struck me and pleased me was the rickety “white board” near the majestic front doors providing information on all the activities that day. In neat handwriting the church was saying, in effect, we are a part of the community and the community meets, worships, plays and prays here. I have visited other cathedrals and the first thing one notices is the entry fee. This is ‘cathedral’, not as community but rather as tourist attraction. I readily acknowledge these buildings cost a fortune to maintain, but first impressions are quite telling.
In some country towns, in Europe and Australia, the small church has a notice board indicating how frequently, or usually, how infrequently a service is held. This too says much about faith in a community. Again, before I am chastised, I must acknowledge home churches and those who meet in places other than church buildings.
As I travel around I notice the condition of the building and the grounds, and the graves around the church. Each one speaks silently about their place and importance in the community.
Recently I sat in the balcony of a church in Spain. It was the evening before Maundy Thursday and the church was full. But from my vantage point I noticed that the vast majority of the heads were grey or bald. Later as we left I observed that the younger people were in the Bars and Bistros.
Often my first reaction to the more obvious signs of the decline of the church is despair. Not a helpful emotion! So now, rather than despair, when I visit church buildings I pray. I pray for the leaders of the church, the congregation and the community in which it sits. I pray that God will continue to raise faithful believers holding on to the truth of Christ and empowered by the Holy Spirit.
Every so often I come across a church building that shows that it is lived in by young and old. The Bibles and newsletters left in the pews, the children’s pictures placed on the walls, the programme of activities on the notice board, the pictures of missionaries smiling in far off places and the wear and tear of the furniture and carpets, all attest that this is a “faith home”. This is a place where the people of God gather to celebrate, rejoice and weep. I still pray, but it is a prayer of thanksgiving.
Yesterday I placed a John Calvin quote in my blog. However today I want to share a delightful scene I came across in Stockholm a few weeks ago. If you watch through to the end, the clip finishes with a Swedish version of a line dance!
One of the reasons I wanted to visit Norway was to travel the Atlantic Road. This relatively short stretch of highway hops from rock island to island just south of Kristiansund through a nature park. The road swerves and weaves over islands and along water for 8 kilomentres. Without too much hyperbole it could be suggested that this road with its bridges is a work of art.
People were fishing, having picnics and generally enjoying the sights on the day that we went. It was cool but sunny and the road looked magnificent. All this is, of course, set against the dramatic backdrop of Norwegian scenery.
We liked it so much that we made three separate journeys along this road before we finally took the (expensive) tunnel into Kristiansund.
There are great coastal highways in the world. The Pacific Coast Highway in California and the Great Ocean Road in Victoria, Australia but this 8 km stretch is in a category of its own.
Strahan
One of my favorite places in the world to visit and revisit is Tasmania. It isn’t just that we lived there for three years many years ago that pulls us back. There is something unique about the island that makes each return a special treat.
Cataract Gorge in Flood
It is hard to put your finger on the magical quality it has. In one sense it is just like most other western societies with consumerism and supermarkets, graffiti and all the usual social problems. In that regard it is not that much different from home. Yet, at another level, its separation from the rest of the Australian rat race, its many places of retreat, its huge variety of scenery all within easy driving distance, makes it very appealing. If you are an elderly couple or a thrill seeker there is space and there are places for you.
Because I love European history, it is that aspect of Tasmania that appeals to me
Richmond Bridge
most. The early European settlements, the connections with Convict History, the visual reminders of the past are all present and accessible. The bridges at Richmond and Ross are worth the trip alone.
And then there is the stunning visual beauty from rugged mountains, spectacular waterfalls to the secluded inlets and coves. Being campers we have often stayed in places that would other wise be impossible. There was a night in the Tahune State Forest, another near Hell’s Gates on the west coast that are etched in my memory. And pitching a tent on the Freycinet Peninsula is obligatory.
Cradle Mountain
The aspect of Tasmania that thrills me most is that it refreshes my faith in the creator God. It reminds me that this place wasn’t an accident or a freak offshoot of chance but an glimpse of an intentional God who has a sense of beauty and magnificence. Tassie is a reminder that I need to keep my eyes and heart open for glimpses of God, not just in places, but in people and circumstances. God refreshes our soul through his Word and Spirit but there are times when He does it through what he has made.
The Infamous Port Arthur
Travels from Ur 