a dry time

On July 24, 2008 Steve Godbold was freed after over nine months of being hostage to a rebel group in the Tibesti region of northern Chad. The same week a friend with metasticized cancer received the "all clear" from her doctor. The tumor is dead.

What marvelous answers to prayer--both miracles--in so short a time.

But my eyes have not been upwards as they should. I have been in a desert. "A dry and thirsty land where there is no water," as my version of Psalm 61 reads--hyperbole sometimes makes me feel better.

Sunday we had no service in the fellowship. We are looking for a neutral venue. God is working in us and has plans for our growth, spiritual not numerical. Things take time, especially in Africa. God isn't in a hurry anywhere on this planet. (Ask Steve about 9 months in his Chadian desert.)

So when I was singing through some old hymns on Sunday, this one touched my heart. I feel kind of sorry for my kids and their generation which knows so few of those ancient, strong, pain-begotten hymns. Hear the longing in the words of this:

Beneath the cross of Jesus I fain would take my stand--
The shadow of a mighty Rock within a weary land;
A home within the wilderness, a rest upon the way,
From the burning of the noontide heat and the burden of the day.

Upon the cross of Jesus mine eye at times can see
The very dying form of One who suffered there for me;
And from my smitten heart with tears two wonders I confess--
The wonders of redeeming love and my unworthiness.

I take, O Cross, thy shadow for my abiding place;
I ask no other sunshine than the sunshine of His face.
Content to let the world go by, to know no gain nor loss,
My sinful self my only shame, my glory all the Cross.

--Elizabeth C. Clephane


This mosaic is in the convent of San Marcos in Florence where Savonarola lived and served.
Click on the picture if you want to see a beautiful large version of it.

needing to look up

I falter where I firmly trod,
And falling with my weight of cares
Upon the great world's altar-stairs
That slope through darkness up to God,

I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,
And gather dust and chaff, and call
To what I feel is Lord of all,
And faintly trust the larger hope.

--Tennyson

Italy is a pleasant memory and Africa dominates the horizon. There have been some tough situations, sadnesses, hard decisions. Africa doesn't wear gloves in dealing with people. Two families we know have lost beloved children recently; another dear missionary colleague has been diagnosed with aids. Friends have been mugged, a thief has jeopardized the meeting of a houses church.

So when this excerpt from Tennyson's "In Memoriam" came across my reading, I had to share it. The image of climbing stairs to an altar is powerful--all the altars we saw in Italy were set up on marble stairs. But the altar we seek is infinitely above us, and the stairs we climb are this world. It is all we know, we cannot even see the altar from where we are.

The important thing is to keep looking up. We stretch out our lame hands and look up. So I chose one of my favorite "up shots" from our trip. All the arches and the intricacy of the architecture are simply amazing. But they were all manmade. If I can be so impressed by the work of medieval artisans many centuries ago, how much moreso the design of my Father?



This picture is taken inside the basilica of Pisa.

Bell towers of Italy

They are called "campaniles" in Italian. Beside every basilica or attached to every church is a tower soaring high to send the bells' message to all the countryside. Pray. Adore. Worship. Each one is a marvel of architechture; each is an artistic delight. When I finally organized my pictures, I found 28 photos of campaniles. I've chosen six of the best, just to whet your appetite for your trip to Italy.

A side thought: although bell towers proliferate in Italian towns, they never compete or clash with each other. The bells harmonize with the ambience; crowded, narrow streets, buildings pressed closely together, all reaching upward.

Living in Quelimane where two mosques at either end of town compete at the five daily prayer calls--with the imans slightly off-key or seeming to want to drown the other out--the bells of Italy seemed synchronized and unified. To me they were a reminder of our life-purpose: to call others' attention to God.

I confess an attraction to them as well, but they compelled more than appreciation of the artistry. The original builders did succeed in constructing for "Soli Deo Gloria."

These two we found in Rome.


Italy's most famous campanile of all: Pisa's leaning tower. it is worth a quick google investigation to learn about the history of this miraculously still standing tower. If you check the previous blog on facades, the first picture is Pisa's basilica. See how it matches the bell tower perfectly.

St Mark's in Venice has a massive bell tower in front of the basilica. However, the facade is so impressive, the bell tower is not as outstanding right next to it. But if you see the tower from the water--its size in relation to the other buildings is more obvious.

Florence's Santa Maria del Fiore also has a bell tower whose architecture matches the facade. We took this photo from the top of the dome of the basilica so you get a feeling for the entire city.

This unique bell tower is in out-of-the-way Orvieto, not even part of the basilica. The church is St. Andrew's and the octagonal tower is nestled between the front of the church and a nearby gatehouse. (You can see me with my rucksack down in the bottom of the photo.) Orvieto still has a strong medieval feel and the number of churches, for its small size, was astounding.

other prize winning basilica facades

Just had to include three more favorite basilicas--before blasting you with marvelous bell towers.

First is Pisa's facade which takes the prize for most columns. And the baptistry and tower are coordinated! Columns are the dominant feature and all three structures were designed as synchronized whole. Sounds vaguely Leonardo-esque, doesn't it?



Then St Mark's in Venice--as you see, it is under renovation. But for flair and presentation, it is phenomenal. The wild assortment of decorations, statues, mosaics, and gargoyles remind one of the on-going Carnival atmosphere that Venice evokes. Picture the cathedral at one end of a huge square in which hundreds of people are feeding doves, others are drinking cafe, and a small stringed ensemble is playing classical music.



Milan is the cathedral of spires. I suppose they have been counted, but I have no clue how many there are. Seems there isn't a spot available that doesn't have one reaching up. Again, you see scaffolding: most cathedrals we saw were being cleaned or renovated. That is encouraging to someone who lives in Africa where buildings are just supposed to fall down and then be replaced.



Next time, I'll show you some bell towers and you'll see that Pisa's is leaning as much as ever.

Basilica facades--our favorites

Basilicas were the spiritual centers of the medieval times which means they were the architectural zeniths of their cities. Here are some of the most inspiring, creative and mind-boggling of the many which we saw. In a later blog I hope to share with you some of the wide variety of campaniles we also saw. Normally each basilica consisted of a cathedral, a baptistry and a bell tower.

Florence had three marvelous basilica facades: Santa Maria Novella, Santa Croce and Santa Maria del Fiore which was also the base for the Roman church there.


Santa Maria Novella


Santa Croce


Santa Maria del Fiore

Orvieto's facade is known as the jewel of Europe. We were fortunate to be there as the setting sun shone its rays on the gold mosaic of the ornamentation. Can you see the small statues symbolic of the four evangelists above/between the doors?

More next time.

pictures do it better

In front of St Peter's Basilica, which is the most lavish and incredible cathedral imaginable--with an entrance line stretching several hundred meters--are several impressive fountains. That is where we see Bell, Jess and Luke. Inside, the photos are dim, the atmosphere medieval, the saints in the chapel pictures are shadowy, sculpture is large and looming from the most unlikely places. Time and again Bell and I would stand before a statue trying to guess who the saint or angel was. It would be weeks before we felt familiar enough with their symbols to know Jerome had a lion and a red hat, Peter has keys, Mark a winged lion, Augustine a bishop's hat, Catherine a martyr's palm and the Magdalene was for the most part blonde.



By the time we arrived in Venice, we were feeling comfortable walking on ageless marble floors with stairs worn away by many pilgrim feet. Mosaics and frescoes had meanings and some of the simpler ones we actually knew. Venice appeals because its very infrastructure defies modern transport. (Except for jolly boats, of course.) Large paving stones all over the island are occasionally dug up by various plumbing/maintenance personnel who fix whatever has leaked underneath and then replace them as before. Most efficient and time-saving. My favorite item in Venice is the "bridge." A city of multiple islands and canals needs lots of bridges and each one in Venice is unique and artful.

Pleasant Inns

"Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home."

One of my favorite quotations by CSL in The Problem of Pain. It is so true that He delights in giving us respite from some of the frustrations of a temporal life on planet earth--but for the most part, this is where we live. We try (maybe I should say "I try") so hard to get comfortable in this life. By nature I am a nester. I like living in a homey place, with ambience. I hang things on the walls and rearrange furniture. (You can ask Phil about that.)

But it is all a yearning for "home"--that elusive thing for which we were created. The house with many mansions inside. What an image. Home is where we long to be at the end of a wearing day. There is no place like it. I thought it would be good to share some pictures of a few of the homes we enjoyed in Italy. The pink courtyard is inside the apartment building we lived in in Rome. A friendly, fat, black and white cat welcomed us back at the end of our forays each day. The tall, extremely narrow pink hotel (one room wide) is the unique hotel we stayed in in Genoa. We stayed in the Holiday Inn in Milan where a complimentary breakfast costs 15 euros. Luke and Bell stand before the front door of the sagging building in Venice where we climbed crooked stairs and slid across slanted floors. Each place had its appeal--the apartments moreso than the hotels.

Funny enough, as we trekked around each city, when we came to the end of the day, we said, "Let's go home," each resting place of our suitcases honored with the title "home." For pilgrims, I guess home is carried in your heart and where you rest at day's end.

Now we are home in Africa and contemplating the variety of homes we enjoyed in Europe. But looking forward to the home with our Father beside which all others pale.