Well, its been more than a week since I first updated you all, so I had better get something down. My goal was to try and put this up on Friday, but we lost power. Again. It happens a lot around here. We have two generators, except one has been in the shop for minor repairs that no one has gotten around to making yet. I think it's been gone for over a month. Anyway, the one that was left packed it in last Friday too. It was working on Thursday until the fellows who did the routine maintenance broke it, and we had to get someone else in to mend it again. We got through the weekend, but only a week beyond that before it happened again.

This time, they couldn't fix it, so we stole the spare generator from our other house across the street, which involved a great deal of fumbling about with cranes, and a flat deck truck getting sunk up to the rear axles in the gravel that covers the forecourt of our house. It took them quite a while to get free, thankfully with no real damage to anything, just a great deal of noise the the stench of burning rubber.

There have been other minor annoyances this week. Getting actual water pressure as opposed to a dribble on the top floor where I live was a happy occasion, but as the night shift guards kept turning the pump off, my morning shower experience was not happy. That's getting sorted out at least. Being called out in the middle of the night to fix some site or other wears thin as well, especially as the fellow who has the key to the particular lock we encountered took it with him on holiday. Luckily, Kinjo is an accomplished thief, and was able to break into the server room, and we got things going again. Rather, he got things going, and I held the flashlight. The following day the Afghan colonel began pestering us to replace the lock lest his soldiers enter the room and make off with all the gear. Not a very high standard of discipline, it seems. The final bizarre event  revolves around a couple of our dogs, who are getting frisky. Ares is a retired de-mining dog, and Suki is, well, fat. But she's a she, and he's a he, and they often get together next to the dining room table while we're having lunch. It's a bit disconcerting, but as Ares has strained himself somewhat in the attempts, I think things will settle down for awhile. I hope.

So that was my week, and my initial plan was to amplify these experiences, throw in a couple of other random details, and Bob's your uncle. But I'd rather tell you about another pair of experiences. The Sunday after my first posting, I finally managed to get to church. This is the evening service at Camp Eggers, an American base a few minutes away from where I live. It was probably the most heavily-armed congregation I've ever been a part of, but it was pretty nice to join with fellow believers again all the same. There was a fair crowd, the Padre spoke about Faith vs Works and why both are necessary, and the Gospel service folks came by for a visit and brought their choir with them. It wasn't home, but it was good just the same. I'd been sporadic in my attendance over the first six months out here. In my defense, I didn't know they were there until a couple of months before I headed home on holiday myself, but once I finally figured out there would be something at the base, I still only managed to get there three or four times.

I went again tonight, so for now anyway, I'm on a bit of a roll, if two can be considered a roll. I almost didn't go at all, but I did in the end, and was glad for it. Even though it's effectively Tuesday here for me (our day off is Friday so Saturday is the bleah 'first day back' which you all get on Monday) I found myself singing some old hymns from Bible College in the shower this morning. It was a bit out of the blue, as I don't usually start my day that way, so perhaps God was priming me to go. The rest of the day was ordinary, and as the time drew near to get Transport involved, I hemmed and hawed and thought about how much I had to do, and that I just wanted to eat and relax, and then walked over to the office to book a truck and driver. I made it in plenty of time, but still managed to be late. This is how my life goes.

Musically it's not impressive, but it is still fun to join in and be elevated by the songs. The Padre didn't speak tonight, but rather a big black man who works for MPRI (a US contracting company) and moonlights as the pastor for the afore-mentioned Gospel service earlier on Saturday evenings. They are a different bunch, as you'd expect from the name. Probably quite lively. Anyway, I've heard him before from my previous few attendances, and he's got a lot of passion in his style, and encourages sort of an 'Amen! Hallelujah' from us who listen. It's a participatory sort of a gig.

That night he speaks on praise, taking Psalm 100 as his text. We read aloud from whatever translation we happen to have, and as you can imagine, it becomes hard to follow, but the cacaphony somehow turns my mind to the old scripture chorus we used to sing in my youth group, and I'm suddenly transported 25 years into the past and half a world away to Kamloops Alliance Church where we used to gather Wednesday evenings and sing Psalm 100, among many other things. It was the highlight of my week, back then. I began to think about people I hadn't seen for years, decades even. A very few I've kept in sporadic contact with over the years, but for the most part, it was a glimpse back into an era I had long forgotten. Life was much less complicated, and my faith was much more focussed. One of the big debates of the time regarded Psalm 100, actually. The two camps were divided over whether the emphasis should be "It is He THAT HATH made us", or "It is He that HATH MADE us" in the second line of verse two. I can't recall where I came down on this critical question, but my reflex tells me that I was probably an adherent of the second school.

It was informative to look back at myself when my faith was new, and to compare it with how I am now. I see both how far I've come, and how much I've lost at the same time. In the enlightened 21st century we live in, it is fashionable to look down our noses with disdain at anyone who is zealous about something, as though it were a characteristic only of unthinking fanatics. But the zeal I had as a new believer led me to Bible College and a theology degree that was going to take me to the overseas missions fields. It gave me a passion to throw myself headlong into seeking God and his purpose for me. I don't know that I ever found it, really. I arrived on the missions field a quarter century later than I thought, and with a very different purpose than the one that drove me back then. I've seen many things, and done many things, but that zeal is gone, and I didn't even realize how it had faded over the years until I suddenly had the opportunity to compare the me of 25 years ago with the me of now. It's a bit of a shock, let me tell you.

Tonight is Sunday again, so I have another chance to gather with my brothers and sisters in Christ and worship in that un-polished way that prompted so much thought these past few days. Maybe I can find out where my zeal went, and get it back again.