June 10, 2008

Dear Friends,

Last month I was in Dublin for an oversight meeting of the Church of Ireland Hard Gospel Project, which is challenging parishes up and down the island to take bold steps as followers of Jesus in building bridges with those who are not like them—in terms of politics, nationality doctrine, racial or social background. We were assessing progress on goals set out for the previous six months and setting new goals for the months ahead. One goal for those of us from Belfast was to conclude in time to catch the 3:20 p.m. train home!

After the meeting, when my colleague and I arrived at the train station, we looked up at the notice board and saw the dreaded “delayed” notice. A few minutes later, the loudspeaker announced “Due to a security alert on the line, the Belfast service is being replaced by a bus service from Dundalk onwards. Passengers should board the train now standing on Platform 2” So much for getting home in time to complete a bit of work!

When we headed for the platform we realised that, as luck would have it, all the nicer express trains were stuck somewhere on the other side of the bomb scare. So we boarded a much inferior commuter train and headed off slowly toward Dundalk. Arriving there, we knew the drill from previous experience—pile off and hope that sufficient buses had been found to take us onwards. There were enough buses, but unfortunately the driver of the one we boarded didn’t seem to know the territory north of Newry, and having made one wrong turn onto a minor country road, he seemed to make successive wrong turns every time he tried to get back on track. Attempting to make up for lost time he put his foot to the floor and had two near collisions with agricultural machinery as he careened around blind corners on a twisty, up-and-down country lane. Those of you who have travelled in rural Ireland will understand this next bit. Every time he came to crossroads there was another signpost for “Newry” showing the same mileage as the one at the last crossroads. We had travelled perhaps six or eight miles but “Newry” was still only as far behind us as it was fifteen minutes earlier. We were travelling as fast as the road would allow but we didn’t seem to be making any forward progress. So much for getting home in time for dinner with the family!

At Portadown, beyond the bomb scare, an official from the train station told us a train for Belfast would leave in a few minutes that would get us there more quickly than if we stayed on the bus. Although no one said it out loud I think we all thought “…and more safely too…” and without hesitation all piled off. The train, of course, turned out to be a local, which stopped at every stop, including quite a few I had never heard of, between Portadown and Belfast. So much for that evening meeting I had planned to attend!

I did get home eventually, a bit hungry, plenty tired, and more than a bit annoyed with whichever dissident group had placed a bomb beside the track. I have to admit I was also a bit annoyed with the incompetence of our driver who further delayed the journey.

The late afternoon and evening had been a living metaphor for the less-than-straightforward peace process here. Although most players have relegated violence for political purposes to the past, small groups of dissidents are still planting the occasional bomb and generating hoaxes in an attempt to disrupt or derail the process. The grand designs of political agreements meant to transport us to our destination inevitably turn out to be less perfect vehicles than we had anticipated. A lot of time and energy is spent gong down roads that don’t seem to get us any further. The sectarianism we hoped we had left far behind in terms of hatred, mistrust, intolerance keeps reappearing, and at successive crossroads it keeps being revealed as still very much near at hand. Some of those at the wheel lack the expertise, wisdom, and common sense navigating the way forward requires. And the expected “arrival” time keeps getting delayed a bit longer.

Mural recently painted in a Belfast neighborhood impacted by the legacy of the Troubles.

The journey was frustrating, but if we wanted to get to Belfast there would have been no point staying put in Dublin, nor would there have been any point stopping in Dundalk or at Portadown just because the journey was getting tiresome. The only logical choice was to keep going.

The positive that came out time and again on that messy journey from Dublin to Belfast was how fellow travellers supported each other. Young people helping older people lift heavy packages on and off vehicles. Locals helping foreign visitors find their way through a confusing situation. And everyone helping each other see the humor in the situation rather than get dragged down by anger. There is something powerful about being in a difficult situation together and realising it is each other you have to look to in order to get through it and each other for whom you have to take responsibility. The peace process in Northern Ireland is still far a long way away from the destination, but more and more people are learning vital lessons about what it means to be fellow travellers. May God grant them faith needed to stay the journey, hope to weather delays, compassion to attend to one another’s needs in the process, and wisdom to move forward toward the destination rather than settle for some place other than the place in line with the Shalom God promises we are intended to be.

Grace and peace,

Doug Baker

The 2008 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p. 152