What is it like to work in a centre for asylum seekers?

So what is it like to work at a Red Cross centre for asylum seekers? Well, it is many things.

It's challenging. 

We house about 500 people from over 10 different nationalities, with a broad range of culture, education and background. Most are Muslims, some are Christians, a few are atheists. Some come from big cities, others from remote villages. We have single men, families (up to 10 children), single women, couples (including a few gay couples) and a few unaccompanied minors (teenagers). There's bound to be tensions and disagreements, and if you don't manage to calm things down and find a compromise everybody agrees on, you may very well have a fight on your hands. 

Because let's face it: this is a human population like any other. Some people are hard-working and offer to help out straight away, others are lazy. Some are kind and meek, others are angry and aggressive. They all have qualities and faults like the rest of us. Being asylum seekers doesn't make them angels (and equally, it doesn't make them demons either!). And all of them are under a huge amount of anxiety and stress, having gone through a rough journey (not to speak about the horrors of war and persecution), being housed in far-from-ideal conditions in a strange country, and living in complete uncertainty about their own future, as they don't know whether and when their asylum request will be granted.

Moreover, the centre is actually an old, de-commissioned hospital. Not only was it not in very good conditions to begin with, but it was never designed to accomodate 500 people. We get daily complaints about leaks, heating or water failures, or broken electrics. To top it all, we are in an rural area. The nearest village is 30 minutes away on foot, and the nearest town is 30 minutes away by bus (and busses don't run at the weekend). Residents feel isolated.

Then there is the language barrier. The majority of them only speak very, very basic English (or none at all), so communication can be a huge issue. When a mother comes to you in a panic, speaking quickly in Farsi while holding her child, and there is no one near who could translate what she is so urgently trying to tell you, it's intensely frustrating and stressful, because you know she needs you, but you can't help her until you've found someone who speaks Farsi AND English.

It's chaotic.

The centre only opened on October 1st, and a lot of repairs and refurbishment had to be done. We've had days when we knew a coach of 50 people would arrive an hour later, and workmen were still putting in showers and kitchens in the block where we were supposed to house them. The beds that were initially ordered turned out to be a disaster, as most of them broke, and we had to order new ones. Some rooms don't have a lock yet, resulting in children pillaging a room where we had stocked donated toys - I wanted to cry when I saw the state of the room afterwards. Fortunately, parents came to help us tidy up. In any case, we're often running around like headless chickens because there is so much to do.

It's heartbreaking. 

One man broke down in tears in front of me after being transferred to our centre. After enduring a dangerous journey, he had been temporarily housed in a camp under tents and had started making himself useful and getting to know people around him, only to be suddendly transferred here where he knew no one and felt useless. It was the last straw for him, and he cried and cried. Another man has no contact with his family at all - they live in Taliban country and he has no idea whether they're alive or dead. Yet another one, aged 24, lost his young son in an explosion.

It's wonderful.

You get to meet people from all walks of life and get a glimpse of their culture. If you're in the hallways at meal times, more often than not you're invited to share food with them. And then, they tell you their stories. They're doctors, engineers, barbers, singers, pilots, plumbers, therapists, artists. Theirs are human stories of joy and pain and loss and hope. A Muslim lady and her husband took a young lesbian couple under their wings - the girls now call them "Mama" and "Papa". Yesterday, a father and his daughter were reunited with his wife and 2 other children - they had been separated during the journey and we helped them trace each other. Seeing a 3-year-old girl scream, "Mama!", run down the corridor and throw herself around her mother's neck, then lifting up her 18-months-old brother and hugging him tight, is priceless.

It's joyful. 

I attended a "mutlicultural party" in another centre nearby. Afghan, Iraqi and Somali people showed us some traditional dancing, culminating in a big round dance where they grabbed by mother, my partner and myself, so we found ourselves in the middle of the dance floor. We're having such a party in our centre tomorrow night and I can't wait!

It's never dull, as we never know what might happen and there's always a funny anecdote waiting to be told. Yesterday, a resident came to me at 6:30 pm asking to see his social worker. I straighfacedly informed him that she had gone home, and that contrary to what it may seem at times, we do not sleep on the premises (we both burst out laughing at that point).

As a Christian, it is a true blessing.

I have a unique opportunity to serve people, and thus, to serve Jesus. When many hostile voices are rising against Muslims and refugees, I can show them love in a practical way (which, in terms of sharing the Gospel, speaks louder than any sermon). I am getting used to seeing different faces and this helps me overcome the fear we naturally feel when confronted to "the stranger". I am daily humbled by people's stories, and by my own lack of patience. I am learning daily to see people as Jesus sees them - beloved children of God. And trust me, that doesn't come easy when the same person comes for the same minor complaint for the third time while you're trying to deal with a sick child, or you have to face an angry, shouting man. It's a blessing, and it's humbling.

I love my job. Truly.

The need to be touched

Last week, I wrote a post about the need to be touched. Today I'd like to share a conversation I've had with one of the Red Cross volunteers who help out at our asylum seekers centre.

This lady is a trained reflexology therapist. She comes twice a week to give free foot reflexology massages to residents. Many of them have had to walk long distances, often with unsuitable shoes; and their feet are in a sore state (no pun intended). Add to that the stress of war trauma and of a perilous journey, the uncertainty about their own future, and the feeling of loss of control over their own lives. Our residents are under a lot of stress, and reflexology can really help. I am incredibly grateful to this lady for giving her time and skills for them. From two anecdotes she recounted, they are grateful too.

Those who come and see her often open up about what they've been through, as the treatment allows them to finally relax. At the end of the session, one of them took her hands in his and thanked her, saying, "You remind me of my mother. I miss her so much!" With that, he burst into tears and ran out of the room.

At the end of his treatment, another one said to her, "Now you sit down, madam." He then gave her a back massage. Turns out he was a trained massage therapist back home.

I think these stories speak from themselves about the importance of touch.

 

Cuddles: yes, please

I came across this video today. It's about professional cuddlers. Sounds plain weird, right?

Well, as it happens, this strikes a chord with me.

I have a complicated relationship with physical touch. I often rant about how much I dislike the Belgian and French custom of kissing people on the cheek as a way of greeting them. I feel deeply uncomfortable having to kiss people I'm not close to. At the same time, I am a very affectionate person. As a little girl, I received lots of cuddles from my Mum. Often, I would sneak into bed with her after Dad had gone to work. Mum often gave me back rubs, stroked my hands and arms with her fingertips, or just held me close. I transferred such affectionate gestures in my romantic relationships, and even in my close friendships - I once gave a friend a foot massage on the night before her wedding to help her de-stress. Basically, I love hugs, cuddles and massages.

It seems pretty straighforward, right? I like physical touch from people I love and not from strangers. Well, actually, it's not that simple. Although I recoil from having to kiss distant aunts or cousins (or shop customers), I have been known to let strangers touch me and be quite happy about it. And children are always welcome to touch me - I let them cuddle me, brush my hair and even paint my face. It seems the basic issue is whether I feel comfortable around the person touching me. Obviously, this is the case for close friends and family, but sometimes, a stranger can just feel safe to me.

During what I refer to as my wild years (when I went out partying and drinking during an episode of depression), I received physical affection from a stranger with immense gratitude. I was very vulnerable at the time. I was struggling to recover from a hurtful breakup, I was away from my family and from my best friend. There were no cuddles in my life at the time. I went out with a friend, and we met a couple of gay men. My friend hooked up with a guy, and he gave her a back rub. I complained that I would like one too, so one of the gay men stood up behind me and gave me one. Just like that. Later on that evening, he held me and cuddled me. If he had been straight, I wouldn't have relaxed because I would have thought he was after something more. As it wasn't the case, I just enjoyed the physical affection I felt so deprived of. It was a beautiful thing that man did for me. His name was Lewis; I never forgot him.

This brings me back to the video. As human beings, we are physical creatures. We need touch. Yet, we live in a world where it can be increasingly difficult to receive the physical affection we crave, except in the context of a romantic or sexual relationship. Still during my wild years, I let a guy I'd met snog me in a club because he was holding me close to him. I remember thinking, "If this is the price to pay to get a hug, so be it." How sad is it that we have to put up with things we don't want in an attempt to fulfil a deep human need? More recently, my Grandma shared with me what she read in a book about palliative care: that elderly people long to be touched, too. They need physical affection as much as the rest of us, but are often denied it, especially if they are single or widowed. (I often hug my Grandma or hold her hand.)

We need safe people and safe places for cuddles. Not everyone will need or be comfortable with the same kind of touch. Yet, be it a hand squeeze or an all-embracing hug, it can really put a soothing balm on a lonely heart. If you can provide that act of kindness for someone, great. If not, maybe professional cuddlers can help.

Never a dull moment...

Yesterday was fun. In the morning, I had to go around and check room occupancy. Most residents offered me food (which I had to turn down, except once as the man wouldn't let me leave without having some of his tomato and onion scrambled eggs) and one made me a cup of shockingly sweet tea. At some point, I sat on the floor in a corridor to check which rooms I hadn't seen yet - and someone came out and gave me a chair.

I left work on time (for once) after a busy day, singing to myself in the car. As I drove into my village (15 minutes away from the asylum centre), I did a double take. Standing at the crossroads were a dozen residents from my centre. Rather puzzled, I parked the car and walked up to them.

Turns out they were coming back from the train station and had taken the wrong bus. "It's all Mr Abib's* fault", they said, laughing. "He said we had to get on that bus!" There were men, as well as a mother with her two young children. Bear in mind the cold weather is settling now, and it was dark and freezing. I picked up my phone and called the centre, who sent someone with the minibus to pick them up. I waited with them, and phoned Nicholas to warn him I'd be late - but his phone was off. So the residents started asking me about him. "What time does your husband get back from work?" When I explained we had to go buy some food, one of them looked a little puzzled. "Does your husband need to tell you what to buy?" "No, we go shopping together." This earned Nicholas a round of applause, so I added, "He also cooks for me most of the time, you know!" Second round of applause.

Our residents are fun.

(*Name changed for privacy reasons)

A message to all Muslims

In the light of the crimes of Daesh, of the Paris attacks, and of the raised alert levels in Brussels, I want to send a clear message to all Muslims in the world:

My dear brothers and sisters, I love you.

This is not a mushy feeling. This is a conscious choice.

I know that the overwhelming majority of you are NOT terrorists and have no wish to hurt anyone. You are my human brothers and sisters. Each of you has a mother and a father. Each of you needs love and acceptance. Each of you cries when you hurt. Each of you smiles when you're happy.

We are all human. We are the same. I will not pretend you are all saints. But there again, I will not pretend I am a saint, either.

Some of you are kind, some of you are less kind. Some of you are hard-working and some of you are lazy. Some of you are educated, some of you are not. Some of you are short-tempered or even aggressive (hey, you know what? I can be awfully short-tempered and aggressive, sometimes). Some of you are meek and soft-spoken. Some of you are articulate and vocal to speak up for others. Some of you are incredibly honest, some of you lie.

Guess what? We're the same. I'm the same. Whether we are Muslims or Christians or whatever else, we are all human. We all have our faults and qualities. We all have things we feel proud of and some we feel ashamed of. 

We are all human.

I am making a conscious decision to love you. Because I know the minute I start hating you and feeling scared of you, the terrorists will have won me over. They will have turned my heart to hate and fear. They will have divided us.

I refuse to let them win. I refuse to let them take over my heart. I refuse to let them divide us all, when we are all humans.

I love you. It will not always be easy to love you - after all, it's never easy to love people, whoever they are. People can be damn annoying. People are not perfect. But I will strive to show you kindness always.

Love wins. Love trumps fear.

 My friends Sara and Lexi.

I'm not a serious blogger.

I think it's time I made a confession.

I'm not a very good blogger. I'm not very serious about my blogging.

I always seem to have an opinion on whatever world event is ripping the world apart. And because the Internet is such a great tool, I feel obliged to share it with the world. Only, if I am totaly honest, I'm not sure my opinion is worth that much. I don't necessarily research the issues I am blogging about. Most of the time, I have heard about it on the news and read a few articles and opinions online. If I'm very keen, I may have read a serious newspaper article or two. You know, real paper ones. Mostly, I will have had some kind of knee-jerk reaction to some other people's opinion that I deem unloving or closed-minded.

Because you know, I am a dumb idealist at heart. I dream and hope for a world where we can all live together in peace and harmony. And I strive to follow Jesus, and he said an awful lot of things about loving your neighbour, even loving your enemies, showing compassion and helping those and need. And he loves me, and helped me when I was in deep shit. So, I guess my naive idealism and my faith colour a lot of what I post. I have that silly notion that maybe if I join my voice to those who preach peace and love and forgiveness, maybe together we can counter voices of hate and make a tiny contribution to a better world.

So I write half-baked, not-so-well-informed, idealistic opinions online.

I guess that doesn't make me a very serious blogger, now, does it?

Ah well. Now you're warned.

No French flag for me.

I did not change my profile picture to the Facebook French flag thing, and here is why.

I appreciate the sentiment behind it - stand in sympathy with the French people and the victims. Which is why I put up the Eiffel tower/peace sign picture. And I don't criticize people who chose the French flag profile, either.

But using a national flag to represent this sentiment does not sit well with me. The attackers apparently said things like, "Blame your president" and "This is for the people of Syria". France is taking part in fighting ISIS. French president François Hollande has called the Paris attacks an "act of war" committed by a "terrorist army" - worryingly echoing the words of former predident Bush after 9/11. Now, before you berate me, I do not condone terrorism as a response to military attacks - but equally, I do not condone military attacks as a response to terrorism. Military attacks make too many innocent victims, and fertilize the soil in which extremism grows. Military attacks, in my opinion, do not solve anything, but make everything worse. But then, I'm not a diplomat, and I never studied international politics, so I might be blinded by idealism - and this is not me being sarcastic, this is me being honest.

Moreover, I am uncomfortable with any ideology of "nations". I am uncomfortable with the fact that I have more rights in my country than asylum seekers do, simply because I was born in the right place. I did not earn those rights, and they are denied to people who need them simply because they have the wrong nationality. I don't like the idea of borders. At the same time, I am grateful to live in a place where I enjoy freedom of speech (one of the things radical Islamic terrorists stand against), so maybe I just want my cake and eat it too.

The French flag thing is also too reminiscent of the French national party, which preaches national pride and patriotism, and has a racist ideology. People who will no doubt benefit from the Paris attacks, spout out nationalistic, islamophobic and anti-migrants rethoric - "French people first!", by which they mean only white people, of course, definitely not migrants, not second- or third-generation migrants, not Jews...

Finally, as has been pointed out, and without minimizing the suffering of the victims and their families or the trauma France are going through, the profile French flag thing is incredibly Eurocentric. Such attacks happen regularly in countries such as Iraq, Syria, Lebanon, or Pakistan - and Facebook didn't offer us the option to change our profile picture to their flag. Yet their pain and trauma is the same as ours... only, it doesn't feel so close, does it? They live far from us, they look and live differently. I am pointing at myself too: I felt more shocked by the Paris attack than by the Beirut one. Only later did I realise that I was being biaised in favour of my own culture.

I mourn with the victims' loved ones. But I think this wasn't an just attack on France... this was an attack on humanity. I will mourn and pray... for our whole world.

Walking on in the midst of chaos

I was in my car when I heard about the Paris attacks. I felt drained by so much senseless violence and hatred - again.

My first thought was for the victims of this barbarity, and the horrendous pain an shock their loved ones must have felt.Then, I felt overwhelmed by fear for my Muslim neighbours living in the West. Not fear of them; fear for them. They already face bullying, verbal and physical aggression solely because they're Muslims, even though the vast majority of them do not condone terrorism in any way. I fear for their safety and well-being as my human brothers and sisters. And if they meet hostility, hatred and abuse everywhere, how can they live peacefully among us? In fact, this seems to be precisely what ISIS is hoping to achieve. 

"The Paris attacks could spark new waves of Islamophobia in France and beyond — and with it fear of the refugees pouring into Europe from Syria and other countries. This is exactly what ISIS wants; the group has vowed to make it impossible for Muslims to exist peacefully in the West." ISIS wants to force Muslims in the West to choose a camp in the new worldwide war they are hoping to trigger. ISIS wants Muslims to feel alienated and harrassed so they will only have one side to turn to: radicalism.

I am also scared that Western governments will respond with more military strikes. Yet, what good has military involvement done in the past? After 9/11, the US military invaded Afghanistan and Irak. More than 10 years have passed and the Middle East has not been made more stable and safer. It's more volatile than ever. Moreover, the Paris attackers made it clear that they wanted to punish France for its strikes on Syria. Of course, I do not condone terrorism as a response to military attacks - but equally, I do not condone military attacks as a response to terrorism. Violence only breeds violence. Any person who is killed in a military strike is someone's son, someone's brother, someone's father - and if his loved ones cannot forgive, revenge is the way they will seek. So what should we do?

I don't know. I really don't. I feel at loss, and I wish I had an easy answer. 

As a Christian, I turn to Jesus in such times of grief and chaos. 

"Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God." Matthew 5:9

"But to you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them.  Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back.  Do to others as you would have them do to you.
 
[...] Love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful." Luke 6:27-31, 35-36.

That's a tall order. Yet I cannot help but think it's the best way to combat violence. I feel that as Christians especially, we have a responsibility to be welcoming and loving to our Muslims neighbour. When so many already blame the Muslim community as a whole and shower them with hostility, if we, followers of Jesus, do not show the way of love, pleace and forgiveness, who will?

However, I am keenly aware that it's very easy for me to preach peace and forgiveness. I have lost no one. How would I feel if my mother, my brother, my friend and/or my significant other had been killed or grieviously wounded? Would I be able to forgive and to avoid revenge, or would I want "all Muslims dead"? It's easy to be "kind" and "loving" when I was not directly affected. I can only hope and pray I would have that much grace in my heart.

Yet, choosing the way of violent retaliation and fear will only play into the terrorists' hand. If we don't want them to win, walking unafraid and in love is the best way to counter them.

So this is what I will strive to do: walk in love in the midst of chaos, unafraid - and trusting that my God, on the cross, has already played his hand. His move of sacrificial love is what will ultimately defeat evil, violence, and death.

"We cannot take in all the misery of the world!"

You may or may not know that since 1 October 2015, I have been working in a Red Cross centre for asylum seekers. This is a job that suits my values and beliefs, and I view it as a great and challenging opportunity to serve God and others, as a Christian.

However, when I mention my work, there is a little sentence that I hear far too often and that really gets on my nerves.
 
"We cannot take in all the misery of the world!"

Nobody is asking us to take in all the misery of the world. According to recent statistics, 27,000 people registered as asylum seekers in Belgium. This is hardly "all the misery in the world" - not even close. If all conflict and poverty victims really came to Europe, we'd have billions to cope with, not thousands.

Which brings me to my second point. We may be facing an economic crisis, but we are still part of a privileged minority. None of us have to wonder where our next meal will come from, or where we will sleep tonight. We don't have to fear bombing, beheading, or persecution because of our ideas, faith or lifestyle. We enjoy huge amounts of freedom, and we have more than we need. Moreover, the only reason we have that privilege is that we were born in the right place. We did nothing to deserve it. So how dare we reject those who are less fortunate in that respect?

Not all people currently seeking asylum in Belgium will stay. Some decide to go back home when they realise what appalling conditions they'll have to live in for an undetermined period of time (have you ever visited a refugee camp?) Others won't get refugee status - criteria are strict and the procedure itself is complex. Others still will only be granted a subsidiary protection that's limited in time - if the situation in their country gets better, they will be asked to leave Europe.

Some, however, will stay. They will be workers and consumers, enabling our economy to keep going. They will bring their skills (many residents in my centre are engineers). They will be our neighbours, our doctors, or our shopkeepers. I hope they will be our friends, but that all depends on how we welcome them. If we treat them with wariness and hostility, how can they become integrated in our society?

During World War 2, many Belgians fled the country for fear of the Germans. My grandmother recalls that many French citizens regarded Belgian refugees with hostility, with some villages putting up signs that said, "No water for Belgians". How short our memory is!

Finally, if we don't welcome them, what should we do? Should we let them die on our doorstep? They're human beings. They're all somebody's son or daughter. They're fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters. Would you let your mother or your brother die on your doorstep because you worry there might not be enough room inside for them?

If you have a better solution, a human and compassionate alternative, we are all ears. 

Losing my religion

This may come as a surprise to many of you, but I don't really do religion. 

As far as I can tell, religion is a "system" to get you into God's good books.

It can be rituals, sacraments, and ceremonies. Christen or baptize your baby to ensure he'll go to heaven - or be baptized yourself in order to validate your faith. Say a mass for a dead person to shorten their time in purgatory. Have your marriage sanctified by a minister to make it valid. Don't get me wrong here - I know symbols are important reminders, and that as humans, rituals help us through the various stages of life, but they can never replace deeper realities, nor make us acceptable to God.

For some, religion is a set of rules to abide to. One side of that coin is pride: because I follow those rules to the letters, I am a better person than others, and surely God loves me more. I become judgemental of anyone who doesn't follow those rules - and I end up rejecting certain categories of people. The other side of the coin is a huge burden of guilt, because no one is perfect. No one can strictly adhere to any moral standard. We all slip up, and when it happens, we feel crushed: surely now God no longer loves me. I am worthless.

It can be praying, singing, fasting, reading a holy book. It can be charity work. At the end of the day, though, it's fundamentally flawed: religions are trying to get God to do something. Magic uses the same premises: you can somehow manipulate the surnatural to your own ends. But if there is a God, surely he is no puppet. You cannot manipulate God into doing what you want through prayer or fasting or good works.

When you get to the bottom of things, religions are man-made. I do not think they are inherently good. Human beings need to take responsibilities for their own actions, and maybe atheism helps in that one cannot use religion as an excuse for being bigoted or intolerant when one is an atheist. 

Even the apostle Paul didn't put any value in religion:
 
If others have reason for confidence in their own efforts, I have even more!
I was circumcised when I was eight days old. I am a pure-blooded citizen of Israel and a member of the tribe of Benjamin—a real Hebrew if there ever was one! I was a member of the Pharisees, who demand the strictest obedience to the Jewish law. I was so zealous that I harshly persecuted the church. And as for righteousness, I obeyed the law without fault.
I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done.  Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage. - Philippians 3: 4-8

It's worth noting that the Greek word politely translated as "garbage" or "rubbish" in most English versions actually means "dung" or "excrement", and may have been as offensive as the English word "shit".

So basically... the Apostle Paul says religion is shit.

You see, faith is very different from religion. Deep faith is about relationship, not about religion. I believe God is a person we can somehow relate to. I could not love or respect a God who has to be placated through rituals and sacrifices and self-loathing. But that is not the God I believe in. I believe in a God who got his hands dirty. I believe he made himself man. He went through what we go through and made himself approachable. I would even go as far as to say that God learnt from this experience - now he knows what human life is like, because he's lived it. To me, that is an immense comfort, because it means he is not a far-off judge wagging his finger at me. He knows what I'm going through. He understands. He suffers alongside us. That, to me, is what makes him worthy of my love and devotion.

I believe in a God who loves us. No ifs or buts. God doesn't say, "I'll love you if you go to church" or "I'll love you if you fast for 40 days" or "I'll love you if you quit smoking" or "I'll love you when you're perfect". God's love is not conditional. We don't need to deserve his love: he's already given it to us. I believe in a God who came to live and die for us. That's pretty big love! And he didn't do it because we loved him... he did it because he loves us. 

 This is real love—not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins. [...]We love each other because he loved us first. - 1 John 4: 10, 19

The language of my heart

When I was 18, I spent a year in London, studying and practising English. The experience shaped the person I am today in many significant ways. The most obvious one is that I became a Christian that year. My faith is the foundation of my worldview, of my values, and of the character I strive to develop. Yet, that is not the only door that was opened in my heart that year.

I fell in love with the English language and its culture. I made friends in London and learnt tidtits of British history, as well as odd British habits and foods - I have become a heavy tea drinker (with milk, please), and I love mince pies, beans on toast and mango chutney (OK, strictly speaking that's not English, but I learnt to love Indian food when I was there).

I started watching movies in English and reading books. Lots and lots of books. Over the years, I've discovered numerous authors and immersed myself in the worlds they created. I walked in the shoes of hundreds of characters, wept with them, laughed with them, trembled for them. As George R.R. Martin puts it in A Song of Ice and Fire, "A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one." Of course, I already was avidly reading French books, too; but reading in English imprinted the structure and flow of the language into my mind.

Partly because I was discovering faith in English, and partly because I was completely immersed in the language and culture, it created a strong emotional bond in my mind. English wasn't just a language I had learnt academically. It became part of me. It became the language of my heart and mind, sometimes even more than my mother tongue.

Like a cuckoo, I had hatched in a nest that wasn't build by my biological breed - but I felt at home. I returned to Belgium vowing I'd go back to the UK, and I spent a long time feeling homesick. Eventually, several years later, I moved to Swindon and lived there for 6 years, weaving English more and more into my personality. I worked with special needs children and discovered autism. English also allowed me to communicate with people all over the world through the internet, further opening up my mind to different cultures, ways of life and of perceiving the world.

Because I went to London, I learnt a new language that became part of me. I became a Christian. I made beloved friends. I opened my heart and mind to different cultures and ways of thinking. I got to know I had autism.

That gap year yielded outcomes that reached far into my future. I would not be the person I am today if I hadn't decided to go.

Roman Road, Eastend of London, where I lived for a year

Retro post: Dance...

From time to time, I find things I've written quite a while ago, possibly in another place. I thought I could re-post them here: retro-blogging!

Here is one I wrote in 2011.

The grown-ups, they rush past, all preoccupied with deadlines and bills and worrying and such like. But I am walking down the streets listening to music and I'm dancing in my head.

The music lives inside my head and from there is spreads through my veins; it runs in my limbs all the way to my fingertips. It possesses me and I could dance right here in the street, but I only just dance in my head.

Pyjama days can be very productive!

Long ago, I set a basic rule: in my house, it's still morning as long as I'm still in my pyjamas.

And what a productive morning it has been!

I emailed the publisher about the possibility of translating another book, I paid several bills online, and wrote to my sponsored children, Jacob and Dulce. I tidied up the living room, folded and put away some laundry, and put some more out to dry. I fed the dog (who picked at her food and decided to sleep instead), emptied the cat's litter tray and put some fresh one in (it was high time). I planned a family Sunday lunch with Mum over the phone, and planned a girls' sushi night out with a friend. I planned tomorrow's English class that I'll be teaching to my friends and prepared resources. I replied to a friend's email, several friends' Facebook messages, and participated in a discussion online about women in the church.

All in all, pyjama days are the best.

I suppose I'd better get dressed now, to get on with the rest of my day... After all, it IS 4:30 pm.

Unity and disagreement

This is the third post of a series on something that is extremely important to me: the Christian faith. As I explained yesterday, I have come to question certain beliefs I used to have; but I have always held on to the basics of the Christian faith.

The apostle Paul sums it up in 1 Corinthians 15:3-4: "For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins according to the Scriptures,  that he was buried, that he was raised on the third day according to the Scriptures." It's the most simple expression of the Christian creed. A more elaborate version is the Apostles' Creed, also known as Symbol of the Apostles:

"I believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.

I believe in Jesus Christ, God's only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended into hell. On the third day he rose again; he ascended into heaven, he is seated at the right hand of the Father, and he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy catholic (i.e. universal) Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting." 

Christians believe this and live in the light of it. Those are the essentials, the fundamentals. If a Christian questioned the existence of God, the divinity of Jesus, his death for our sins and his resurrection, I would question whether that person really understands what it means to be a Christian.

However, there are also a number of issues on which not all Christians agree. None of these issues are core to the Gospel, they're what I'd call peripheral issues. I learnt a wonderful word while I was translating a Christian book on ethics: irenic. Irenic means favouring peace and conciliation, especially in light of disagreements on Christian doctrine. How I wish Christians could be irenic when it comes to issues that are not core to the Christian message!

Some Christians believe God created the world in 6 days about 6,000 years ago, while some others don't see any contradiction between the scientific theory of evolution and the Bible (they believe God could have used and directed the evolutionary process). 

Some Christians believe that spectacular gifts of the Spirit such as speaking in tongues, prophesy, or healing only occured in apostolic times, while others think they still happen today.

Some Christians believe they should abstain from alcohol.

Some Christians believe women should not teach men in the church, whereas other churches let gifted women preach, teach and lead services.

Some Christians believe that those called to ministry ought to remain single, while others see no problem with married ministers.

Some Christians believe they should tithe (give 10% of all your income to charity), others believe they should just give what they have resolved in their hearts to give.

Some Christians are staunch pacifists while others feel in some cases, it is right and just to fight. 

Some Christians couples believe having children is a biblical mandate and that therefore, they should not use any form of contraception. Others believe there is nothing wrong with planning how many children, if any, they want to have.

... Some Christians believe that homosexuality is always a sin, whereas others believe that loving, committed relationships between two partners of the same sex are approved by God.

And there's the rub. This has become a non-negotiable issue for many Christians: believing anything else than the inherent sinfulness of homosexuality, whatever the circumstances, is seen as nothing short of heresy.

I think differently. I believe this is one of many issues over which Christians ought to agree to disagree. I believe we need to be irenic about it!

PS: The purpose of this post is not to defend my personal position on any of those issues, but to aknowledge the existence of doctrinal differences within the Christian faith that do not threaten or put into question the basics of the Gospel.

I will follow

Yesterday, I wrote a detailed post about my faith. In the past few years, I have come to re-assess a lot of things that I had been taught and had accepted as Gospel truth (pardon the pun), which is why I felt compelled to put in writing the actual content of my faith.

Today, I want to talk about the core of my faith, the Christian faith.

This core is the person of Jesus Christ. The very word Christian comes from the word Christ. At the most basic level, a Christian is someone who believes Jesus was who he said he was, and accomplished what he said he accomplished.

We believe Jesus is the Son of God become human. This is actually an amazing thing to believe in, because it means God is not some distant deity who cannot understand us or sympathize with our plight. He lived our life: he felt human pain, weariness, hunger, thirst, and emotions. He cried when a friend of his died. He was moved with compassion when he witnessed human suffering. He himself suffered torture and a slow, horrific agony. This means God knows what being human is like, what it feels like. Our God is close to us. He knows. He understands. That, to me, is a huge source of comfort, and one of the reasons I love him so much.

At the same time, he wasn't exactly a human like one of us. His teachings were both uncompromising and compelling. The virtues he details in the Sermon on the Mount seem unattainable, yet he lived up to them. He gave his time and energy to people, healing them, valuing them. He actually spent time with those society valued the least - the poor, the sick, women, and "notorious" sinners. He had little time for religious hypocrites, though, and didn't mince his words when talking about them. Yet, he taught enemy love and he let his enemies torture and kill him.  He showed us what human beings were supposed to be like: full of love, passionate for justice, passionate for God. 


Finally, he died. He announced his death beforehand and explained to his disciples that he would die on our behalf, as a ransom. A ransom is a price paid for someone's life, is it not? His life for ours. His life to pay the penalty for our sin, for our own rejection of God. His death to open the way to forgiveness and reconciliation. His death to defeat the power of sin and death over humanity. We Christians believe that when he rose again, he proved that he had indeed defeated sin and death. His death and resurrection mean we can enjoy a restored relationship to God.

This is huge. This is massive. This is amazing. This is compelling. And to me, the undeniable proof that God loves us.

This is the Christian story, the very core of it. This is what I build my life upon. Jesus is the man I will follow, and the God I will worship.

The foundations of my faith

In this blog, I already explained how I came to faith, and why I believe. Today, I want to explain precisely what I believe and what the foundations or my faith are. Those beliefs are based on the Bible so I have included Bible references.

1. I believe in one creator God, one in three persons – the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. We often say that “God is love”. Yet, love cannot exist without a recipient, and this is the mystery of the tri-une God: although he is one, he is three persons who love one another: at the heart of God is relationship from the very beginning. I believe God is loving, good, true, and just; I believe he is eternal, omniscient (all-knowing) and omnipotent (all-powerful). I believe he is the source of everything good, true, just and beautiful. I believe he caused the whole universe to come into being. I believe God designed human beings with free will – that is, we are not robots, we are free to choose between good and evil, love and hate, justice and injustice. I believe he made us in his own image, that is, beings that are capable of choices, beings of relationships, and beings of creativity, amongst other things. I believe he made us so we could enjoy a loving relationship with him. (Genesis 1-3; Matthew 28:19; John 1, 10:30, 14:8-11, 26, 17:3; 1 John 4:8)

2. I believe Jesus is God incarnate in human flesh. I believe he was born, lived and died as a human in Roman-occupied Israel at the beginning of the 1^st century as recorded in the New Testament Gospels. I believe he was crucified, was buried, and rose again. I believe he is alive eternally. Everything we need to know about God, we find in Jesus - he shows us exactly what God is like. (The Gospels - see especially John 1)

3. I believe that as humans we are all sinners, and sin separates us from God and deserves our death, for a just God cannot tolerate evil. I believe sin is in our nature but manifests itself in different ways in different people. I believe individual sins are the result of our inward attitude. Sin is my selfishness and ego, putting myself first and above everything else including God. Making myself my own God and rejecting the true God. Consequences both now (broken world, broken individual lives) and eternally (our ultimate destruction). I believe in sin because I see it both in my own life and heart, and in the world. (Genesis 3, Romans 1-3)

4. I believe that although God cannot tolerate evil, he still loves us more than we can imagine and didn't want to leave us in this dire situation. Because God loves us, he came to earth as Jesus: to make himself known to us, to extend his saving hand, and ultimately to die in our place, to die the death we deserve, so we could live, be forgiven of our wrongdoings, and enjoy a reconciled relationship with God, others, the world and ourselves. I believe Jesus’ death was the atoning sacrifice through which God chose to reconcile humanity to himself. I believe the process of redemption concerns not just individuals, but communities and ultimately the whole world. Each individual is responsible for his own acceptance of God’s work in their lives, but God’s goal is to redeem the whole world, transform it, renew it. (John 3:16-18; Romans 3:23-25, 5, 8:19-22)

5. I believe the Spirit of God lives in every believer and gives him both the will and the ability to change and become a better human day by day. This is what Christians call sanctification. I believe redemption and sanctification are a process that lasts a lifetime. (Matthew 10:20; John 7:39, 14:17, 26; 16:13; Acts 1-2)

6. I believe the universal church is the community of all those who trust in and follow Jesus as their God and Saviour. I believe we are called to spread the message of the gospel (good news) of God’s love for humanity, not just through words but through actions. I believe God wants us to partner with him to redeem this world. I believe Christian are called to form communities together where they can encourage each other, support each other, teach each other and pray for each other. (Acts)

7. I believe in the Bible. I believe it has been written by humans and inspired by God. I believe it tells us the Great Story about God, about the world, and about ourselves. I believe it contains commands to follow, principles to apply, examples to follow and virtues to cultivate. I also believe that it needs careful interpretation, given the variety of literary genres, historical and cultural contexts, and original recipients it was addressed to. I believe studying the Bible is fundamental for every Christian. (2 Timothy 3:16)

8. I believe in prayer. I believe that when we talk to God, he listens, he cares and he acts, although not always in the way we imagined, because he has infinite knowledge of everything we and the world need, while we don’t. (Matthew 7:7-11; Luke 11:1-13; John 14: 13-14, 16:23-26)