Encouragement from the indigenous church

I am a real nerd.

I used to say that I was a real geek, but one of the first conversations I ever had with Tim was about the fact that I wasn't. Geeks are boys who play fantasy role playing games on their computers and own star wars figurines. Nerds are the ones who part their hair in the middle and love maths.

While I part my hair slightly to the side, and I enjoy maths only in moderation (not like my stats loving sister ;), I still think I classify as a nerd. Because I enjoy exams. I love the feeling of getting into to the room, the adrenalin rush that comes as you start writing madly, and that great feeling of relief that comes with the words "pens down". I also enjoy essay writing. The investigation, the time of discovery, seeing your ideas expressed, and best of all the art of the beautifully written concluding paragraph. Don't get me wrong. I am very, very glad to be on holidays. But as much as I procrastinate, when I sit down and actually do work, I love it.

Essays and Exams are heaps more fun now because I'm at Bible College and the process is not just intellectually fascinating but edifying. I know more about 1 Peter from writing an essay on it than I ever learnt from reading it, sitting in Bible studies on it, or hearing preaching of it. Not just knowing in the Western sense but knowing in that real, Biblical, experiential sense. It's a beautiful thing.

My latest essay was concerned with the history of the Aboriginal church, and most particularly how the missionary theories of Roland Allen (a Anglican minister and missionary from the turn of the last century) have impacted the situation here.

So much of the time, when I'm hearing news about the situation of Aboriginal people, its horrible, heart breaking news. What I hear on the news is always suffering. And what's more, the recent history of Indigenous Australia is so terrible. The killings, the attitude that said that this wasn't their land and they weren't even really human. It makes me sick, and it makes me sad. And it makes me sorry, because my ancestors were part of it.

But the blessing of this essay was that while my research showed me all these things, it also showed me so much more. Imperfect missionaries, who despite their mistakes worked so hard to save what was very much at the turn of the century a dying people. Indigenous Australians who heard the gospel and it transformed their lives. People who can't even really read English who nonetheless do their best to understand the one translation of the Bible they have. And most particularly, church communities that run things so differently to the communities that I have been apart of, but who are my brothers and sisters and share with me in the fellowship of the Spirit.

Please pray for the indigenous church. There are so many social issues within this community. But we know a God who can do immeasurably more than we can even imagine.
Belinda