Mondays are usually a slower day for me. I don’t have any regular meetings scheduled, and I spend part of my day planning out my week and thinking through conversations that took place on Sunday during our church service. The introvert in me takes some time to recharge on Mondays.

But this week was different. Kyle had the idea to do a Jericho prayer walk. Remember how the Israelites marched around Jericho one time a day for seven days, and on the seventh day they marched seven times? And as they finished the last lap, God miraculously brought the walls of the city down.

Ancona’s physical walls are long gone, but the spiritual walls here seem stronger than ever. The church here is making efforts at knocking them down, but sometimes it seems we have a long way to go.

We met at the monument at 7:00, walking along the Viale until we got to the port, and then we turned around and went back the way we came. It took about an hour every day.
We prayed for anything and everything: our church, the church members, our neighbors, spiritual growth, our leadership, maybe even world peace. We prayed for big things and small things.

That weekend, our church hosted another 24 hour prayer room, and this time the one-hour slots filled up very quickly. It seemed as though many went into the prayer room desperate for some time with their Creator.

Sunday morning, we finished the prayer walk with seven laps, though I couldn’t be there until the very end since Heidi was taking her turn in the prayer room. It was a week completely drenched in prayer.

It was also the hottest week we have had here in Ancona. Many of our activities take place at night when it is cooler, which made for a long day when the prayer walk starts at 7.

But I can’t think of a better reason to be tired. Despite my selfish bad thoughts when the alarm went off, a jump in the amount of time we spend talking to God can only be a good thing.

Because it really is up to Him, isn’t it? We make sure we’re the brightest possible light, and the saltiest Christians we can be.

So now we wait for the walls to come down.

Some good friends of ours invited us to attend a fish dinner down by the port. The area of town is called Gli Archi (The Arches), and all of the buildings have a large sidewalk in front and are covered with huge arches.

The dinner was a benefit for some non-profit organization. They spread out picnic tables underneath the arches and everyone mingled around until the boy scouts hurried by to take tickets and bring the food.

There is a street right in front of the arches, and it’s one of the main ways into town. Traffic tapered off as dinner went on, but the occasional bus or streetbike roaring by quickly reminded us to hang on to the kids.

When people think of Italy they often think of a fancy restaurant or a big plate of pasta. They picture wine glasses and pizza. And to be sure, the big fancy Italian dinner is something we enjoy about living here.

But as I sat, scrunched on a flimsy picnic bench with family and friends on either side, I realized that I would much rather have dinner sotto gli archi than in some fancy restaurant. The seafood pasta and fried fish was great, but not nearly as great as the company. I found myself smiling as Trey chatted with Maurizio, as Silla grabbed Francesca to take her for a walk, as Marco brought over a huge dessert that he bought before the pastry shop closed. Dinners like this are just as much for the company as the food.

But … the food was delicious, too!

With spring comes so much newness. Rebirth. Excitement. God uses these beautiful seasons to give our life more meaning. Though the warmth is nice, I would hate to live in an area without changing seasons. Life never seems to slow down. Things are the same day after day. Here, I see winter as a time when God has us recharge. We stay inside more. We slow down. We sit. We relax. The weather may keep us inside. It may keep us craving a mocha enjoyed with dear friends (and gaining 10 “winter” pounds to prove it). Sure, it’s irritating to be wet day after day from the non-stop rain that comes with Italian winters. Yes, it is hard to keep up with the laundry when you can’t hang your clothes outside. Sure, there are small irritations. But, as I see God bringing life to a slower pace in the winter, I feel encouraged to join in on nature’s cycle.

But, just when we are starting to get the itch, spring arrives. No more cabin fever. Newness. I see much newness in the life of our church body. Much growth. The winter brought great Bible studies among our believers. We studied Experiencing God with a couple in our church, and several got together to study A Purpose Driven Life. Now the spring will be time for the fruits of the Spirit to begin maturing and ripening because of this time of study and reflection. Please pray for continued growth in the lives of the believers, namely Simone and Marianna. They have been really challenged lately because of our study together.

Our schedules also reflect spring’s busyness, as well. There are ladies’ events, church events, Bible studies, mom’s get togethers, interesting preaching/teaching times and more all going on right now. Our current sermon series called What the Bible Says about… has been a real blessing. It’s been good to dig into the Word and help the church discover why we believe what we believe.

Also, as you may have read in our prayer update, there’s a new baby at church!! Please pray for Daniel and Simona as they begin their parenthood adventure far away from friends and family (they are Romanian, living in Ancona).

Thank you for all of your support. Though you may not see the significance, you are a vital part of our ministry and lives. We could not be here without you!

Down in the center, near Teatro delle Muse, you’ll find Tunital, home of the best Kebab in Ancona. You can find kebabs all over Europe. Some people call them Doner. Some people pronounce it ke-BAB. But on our team for some reason forgotten to history, it’s KE-bab. And it’s delicious. We go there often enough that they know just how we all like it (half meat, half fallafel, a little spicy). And of course …

the mayonnaise blast. A dollop of warm mayo ready to help the first bite slide right down.

It sounds goofy. And maybe we’re a little bit obsessed about it. But sometimes you just gotta’ have a kebab.

(And sometimes we get really sad when we go all the way down there and they’re closed.)

And I will never understand how it works. Italy has a multiple party system. It’s not just republicans and democrats (with a couple of minor parties here and there). There are dozens of major parties and even more minor parties. No party who receives less than 5% of the popular vote can take office, so the parties form coalitions which can get enough votes. The coalition a person votes for will contain several somewhat-similar (but certainly not identical) political ideologies.

I passed by a newspaper headline just before election day (actually, it’s election weekend here). The headline read, “Photos of all 140 candidates inside”. 140 candidates? Yep, because for regional elections you can vote for the party and for the person you want to win. 140 candidates! How can anyone keep that straight?

Here’s the kicker … if at any point anyone is unhappy with where the government is going, it gets dissolved (it’s happened over 50 times since World War 2). Poof! It’s like it never happened. A temporary government is set up until elections can take place. Oh, and the current prime minister, he controls the state-run media channels (RAI), and also personally owns the competing channels (Mediaset). There are almost no independent media companies.

So basically, I don’t understand a thing. And my fear is, I’m not sure the Italians do either.

A lot has happened over the years. We spent over two years in the US raising support for our work in Ancona. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Then we moved to Perugia to study Italian. We enrolled in a small language school and tried to train our mouths to make all the weird sounds we heard all around us. We also adapted to the Italian rhythm of life, and enrolled our two oldest kids in school. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Next we moved to Ancona and started to dip our toes into life on a team. We learned all the reasons why working on a team is such a great thing, and we also learned why it can be a really challenging thing. The Italian culture started to feel a bit more familiar to us, but things were still new and scary sometimes. Moving to Ancona and working on a team was a great experience – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

After our first furlough, we came back to Ancona with a new confidence. The language wasn’t quite so difficult. Our kids were doing pretty well in school. We even had a baby in Ancona. Our team leader asked us to be the interim team leader for six months while he was in the US. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Just before our second furlough our landlord gave us six months to move out of her apartment, and we were faced with finding a new place and completely furnishing it with absolutely no way to pay for it. What an experience that was – easily the most faith-stretching experience of our lives.

Which brings us more or less to the present day. We still get our faith stretched on a regular basis. God still pulls us through despite our doubts, and shows us how faithful He is to us.

And through it all, He’s forming a church in Ancona. Sometimes He uses us, and sometimes He does an end-run and brings people to us that we never would have even met. He molds us and shapes us and chips away at our rough edges until we become more and more like Him.

And to think. It’s only taken seven years so far…

Thanks for sticking with us.

We made it back to Italy safe and sound. Our apartment was cleaned and ready for us (thanks team!). Our car insurance was turned on – though somehow gremlins got in and ruined the transmission while we were gone. The church welcomed us back with the usual hugs and kisses alla Italiana. But somehow things seemed different.

It was a little like we were on the outside looking in on everything. Ministry and church life obviously goes on without us. It’s not like people are sitting around and waiting for us to get back. But it takes a while to get back into the rhythm of life. And the transition was in some ways a little uncomfortable.

But slowly, things are seeming more normal. The routine of school / sports / Bible studies / prayer times / classes / etc. is starting to take over. We’re renewing our friendships and our apartment seems like home again. It all reminds us that neither here, nor there, is our true home.

As we’re sitting there chatting I just sort of sat there for a bit and listened to the other dads talk. The mayor of Ancona recently resigned (in scandal, of course) and they were talking about the nine candidates who were running. And of those nine, many were people they had all gone to school with. They started telling stories about so-and-so who used to ride on the hood of cars going down country roads. Or the other guy who they all said was destined to be in politics (not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult).

All of the sudden it hit me. Most of these guys have known each other since they were kids. They went to elementary school together. They’ve watched each other grow up and get married and have kids. And here I am, the American protestant pastor trying to insert myself into a community that has been around for forty years! There are a couple of dads in particular who try and pull me into the circle, but for the most part I’m an outsider.

I don’t say this to start a pity party. But it does bring a little prespective. How many class dinners do I go to before I can tell stories about so-and-so? Am I going to stick around long enough to get drawn in?

There’s a part of me that thinks we’re nuts for doing this. There’s nothing special about the room. We decorate it, and sometimes have a theme to help people to focus their thoughts. There are some candles and a big wooden cross. But it’s just a normal room. But at the same time there is something very un-normal about it.

I’m in a country where Easter is barely a religious holiday for most people, and really not much of a secular holiday either. I saw a poster in the center of town for an art exhibit that is opening up tonight. It’s just another day. I’m preparing to preach a simple Easter message and don’t really feel very Easter-y.

So I’m faced with this blah feeling about Easter, and this morning that feeling collided with the wonderful insanity of the prayer room. Ho-hum faced off with holy. Shrugged shoulders met bended knees. A yawn met a whispered prayer.

Guess who won?

This week the city of L’Aquila in central Italy was hit with a powerful earthquake that, as of this moment, killed over 200 people and has left thousands homeless. We’re fine here in Ancona. As a church we’re trying to figure out the best way to help. We’ve been overwhelmed with people writing and calling to ask if we’re OK.

Jasmina Tešanović has written a very beautiful summary of what life is like in L’Aquila right now:

As I watch the TV, I know this is not a science fiction disaster movie, this is the new realism. Only last night the same television showed me an old movie with Ana Magnani: the post war late 1940s in Italy. It seemed so different: the good guys had defeated the bad guys. There was hope. Watching these high tech rescue squads, ambulances heavy with gear and with high pitched Italian sirens, politicians in Armani suits with Missoni ties, blonde sexy news announcers with cosmetic lip surgery, all scampering among the ruins, I feel uneasy. Where are the real people? Whatever became of normal life? Trained dogs sniff for normal life beneath the rubble.

You can read the entire article here. Please note that the website this article is posted at occasionally posts some off-color items. Browse carefully…

Keep praying.