The lakes of central Europe have become a sort of finish-line for me: specifically Hungary's Lake Balaton and Slovenia's Lake Bled. Subconsciously, these places have become that landmark point on the horizon toward which I can orient my last gasping breaths, my final stumbling strides from the marathon winter in Holland. And when I make it to the lakes of central Europe, I collapse climactically, gulping in deep mouthfuls of air that renew me and revitalize me in the deepest portions of my soul.

Every year around Easter, GCM (my employer) organizes its annual missionary retreat, for all the GCM employees working in Europe. The first four years that I lived in Europe, this retreat was held on the shores of Lake Balaton, in western Hungary. And the last two years, we've been upgraded (in my opinion -- no offense to Hungary) to Lake Bled, Slovenia. For five glorious days in early spring, we gather with other kindred spirits from the scattered corners of the Continent in a sort of spiritual family reunion. Special activities are organized for our children, so they can play together with other missionary kids, under trustworthy supervision, while the parents are magically enabled to interact freely with the other grown-ups. We share meals together with surrogate aunts, uncles, and cousins from Italy, Poland, Germany, Ukraine... We encourage each other with stories from the scattered churches and with personal insights from the Bible. And we deliberately take time to go for walks, swims, and naps. Simply put, it is a highlight of the year for our family.

It can make me feel guilty, in a certain way, to consider these annual retreats as part of my job. True, my employer benevolently requires my attendance. And true, I also come away from the annual retreats with new lessons learned, new skills to apply, and new energy for the day-to-day ministry tasks with which I'm regularly involved. But still, it's tough to express my annual anticipation to the Dutch (volunteer) leaders in our church -- or to the people who provide the regular financial support for our ministry in Amsterdam -- because I'm afraid of being considered a slacker, a lazy person, a scam artist. I guess it's that whole Protestant work ethic, or maybe northern European frugality.

But as I thought about things this year, I realized that it's good to rest. It's healthy to be refreshed and renewed. It's a spiritual discipline, in fact. Did you realize that Adam and Eve's first full day in the newly created Earth was a day of rest, not a day of work? From a human perspective, rest is the starting point for our lives and work and ministry. We're not supposed to just work and work and work to the point of collapse at the "week-end." We're supposed to start by resting, relaxing, enjoying God's creation, as the first thing in our lives. And then there, from that place of rest, we can get the power and presence of God that we need to live out the rest of our days until the cycle starts all over again.

Thus, mindful of this basic spiritual, the annual retreat to the lakes of central Europe is a blessing from God that serves as the starting point for a new year of ministry. After the long, dark, dismal, damp, gray, bleak, depressing (is that enough synonymous adjectives for you?), it truly feels like a finish line to have a special experience marking the end of one season and the beginning of another. It's so fitting, too, that this annual retreat coincides with Easter and the spring season in general. And because it happens in a far-away place, well outside the normal realm of Amsterdam activity, we're able to get a fresh sense of perspective on life and ministry. Somehow, going back to Amsterdam after a week by the lakes of central Europe, the city feels brighter and warmer --- and even more promising with the knowledge that the sunlight and days of warmth will only increase and intensify for the coming months, bringing us into the most beautiful time of year in Amsterdam.

Yes, the lakes of central Europe are a finish-line for me. But they're also the starting line for the next race ahead.

In observance of the five year anniversary of Zolder50's inception in Amsterdam, I helped to put together a video slide-show representing a visual history of our first five years as a church community. It was pretty challenging to sum up so many lives, so many stories, and so many years in a fifteen-and-a-half minute video presentation -- but I'm pretty pleased with the results.

Because of YouTube restrictions on length, I had to post the slideshow in two pieces (rather crudely hacked off between songs). But the show starts with the window above and continues with the window below.

The pictures in the slide-show are arranged chronologically, starting with the initial exploratory trip to Amsterdam in May of 2001 and proceding all the way up until March of 2008. It is far from a complete history of Zolder50 (I'm really, really sorry if your picture did not make it into the show) -- but it's still a fun monument to the last five years. It includes images from every single baptism for which I was able to find a photographic record (which, unfortunately, does not encompass the entire lot of baptisms) -- but I did this because I really wanted to emphasize the work that God has been doing in individual lives throughout the last five years. You may notice that the slide-show is somewhat heavy on pictures of the staff team and my home group... This is partially practical (approximately 80 to 85 percent of the images were from my own personal collection) and partially philosophical (as I considered that I am, after all, really only capable of telling one man's story of Zolder50, and taking this vantage point also helps to provide a kind of "control group" that demonstrates how people have aged, as well as how families and groups have grown and changed).  Again, it's not a perfect slide-show.  But it's something fun to see.

One extra thing that's really cool about the presentation is that all of the musical accompaniment for the slide-show is done by people from Zolder50. Also arranged more-or-less chronologically, the music from Chris Smith, Danny Stimac, Leslie Phillips, and Claire Buswell shares beautiful stories about our community, in their own ways.

I hope you enjoy the slide-show.  Thanks to all of you who have been involved in this church community in some way, or who have prayed for us.  We look forward to seeing what God will do in the next five years! 

We missed you tonight, man. We missed you a lot. I wish you could have been there. Of course, it wasn't the first time that these feelings have cropped up throughout the last five years or so. But it was a particularly poignant evening in Amsterdam that became a particularly painful reminder of your absence.

Your name came up quite a few times throughout the course of our time together. Not with the venom and animosity that you probably suspect, but with affection and honor. For a lot of the people assembled, you were just a name, a second-hand memory... But for me -- and for the rest of us who knew you -- you are (not were) a beloved friend, whose presence is deeply missed.

If it were not for you, Steve, I would not be in Amsterdam. Zolder50 would not be in Amsterdam. I can still hear the sound of your voice on my answering machine, echoing through the white, white kitchen of our Bowling Green home -- the Conneaut house -- in the sunny summer dawn. 6:30 in the morning. Yet it was your cool, casual voice -- calling from Amsterdam to playfully pester me, to pull me through the final months toward the far side of the Atlantic. Breathless from my run down the stairs, I snatched the telephone from the receiver, and I heard your smile through the line. I tried to scold you for forgetting the time zone differential, but you diffused it immediately and effortlessly, like you always could do: "When're you gonna get here, man?" I told you I was doing my best. You said, "Good -- get your butt over here, OK?" I said OK. And then I did.

I don't know how the whole thing ever would've unfolded without you, Steve. I'm sure it would have somehow; I am, after the last five years, a firm believer in the sovereignty of God. Indeed, God has sustained us in ways you never could have, Steve. But at the same time, I have to believe that God used you in the early days of the "Amsterdam Project" in an extremely unique way. I mean, seriously, three-dozen people transplanted from the heartlands of America (Colorado, Kansas, and Ohio, for goodness sake!) -- to Amsterdam, of all places?!?! Taking on real-estate development projects to subsidize ministry costs? Developing an international resource center with people posessing plenty of talent and ambition, but just a handful of stamps in our passports, to start things off?!? You were (and probably still are) a genius, Steve. Some of your ideas were absolutely brilliant. Others were, perhaps, delusional -- even crash-and-burn material (which is to say that I've got some of the bruises and blisters to show for it). I can't deny that there have been nights when I've cursed your name, Steve... And yet, in the grander scheme of things, when I step back and get a sense of perspectve -- like this weekend -- I have to give you credit, Steve. You accomplished a great deal. The fruit of your work is still ripening, still developing, and even carrying seeds to the far corners of the earth...

I wish you could've been there, Steve. I wish you could've heard Sunita talk. . And Jeroen. And Gerard. And Jurren. But you weren't. For what it's worth, everything is going all right, here. Probably not as well as if you could've stuck around a bit longer. But we're doing all right. You'd be proud. You'd be glad.

Thanks, at any rate, for everything you did -- everything you gave -- to make this weekend possible. The cost has been high, but so have the dividends... I almost wrote, "but it's been worth it" there, yet I don't know if I can really make that value judgment. Especially not on your life, your sacrifices, your pain. I can scarcely make such a claim for my own life! All I know is that God has managed to salvage some good things from our efforts. So for whatever it's worth, I just want to say "Thank you."

We sure have missed you this weekend, Steve. You, and Ali, and Chris, and Marcey, and Bret, and Jayla, and all the rest... I wish we could have heard some of your masterful storytelling. I wish we could have heard Chris play "Hallelujah." I wish you were all here.

God bless you, Steve. I hope you're doing all right. Give us a call sometime, if you ever feel like it... even if it's at 6:30 in the morning.

Love,

Eric

I've spent the last week processing the lessons learned at the European Church Planters Network learning community in Portugal.  After having spent approximately 40 hours in a 72 hour stretch in organized interaction with other church planters from Europe -- my brain getting filled up with all kinds of questions and ideas along the way -- I needed some time for myself to sift out the most important elements of of the week's learning... And although I still feel very challenged about things like developing an entrepreneurial culture without our church, the missiological implications of paying full-time ministry workers, and thinking in terms of church-planting-movements instead of simply linear church-planting strategies -- I think my biggest take-away from the week in Portugal was the time that I got to spend with Victor John and Sandy Millar (pictured above).

Both men amazed me with their wisdom and experience, while maintaining a sense of earthiness and genuine warmth.  Both men challenged me with the richness of their prayer life and their commitment to God.  Both men encouraged me by taking a genuine interest in Zolder50's work in Amsterdam and basically coming alongside us as we considered our future as a church.  Both men stood out as role models for me.

Victor John was a full-time pastor in an Indian congregation that had been established by Swedish missionaries during the first half of the 20th Century.  But as the European missionaries were gradually phased out of responsibility for the work of the Church in India (according to government policy), Victor found himself facing a crossroads in his ministry about 15 years ago.  Ultimately, he decided to step out of his role as a full-time pastor for his congregation (which is a very unusual thing to do in India, where the pastor is highly honored), and he helped to establish a rapidly-multiplying network of house-churches which has led to an estimated 3 million people coming to Christ among the Bohjpurri people of northern India.  Among these followers of Christ, approximately 50 former Muslim clerics are now helping to catalyze over 200 house churches among the culturally-Muslim popluations of the region!  Now, they're hoping and praying for another 30 million people to come to Christ in the coming ten years!  It seems crazy!  And yet, it's all accomplished through a very simple (though radical) commitment to prayer, studying the Bible, and empowering others to pass on the things they learn from God throughout their social networks.  As Victor talked with the pastors of the ECPN, he minced no words and threw out some massive challenges -- and yet he maintained a supportive, encouraging tone.  He called us out on the carpet, and yet he let us know that he wanted to help us.  For one whole session, Victor sat with Todd, Gerard, and me -- just the four of us -- helping us to think through the implications of his experiences in India for our church in Holland.  We asked question after question after question, and we soaked up all the wisdom he poured in our direction.

Sandy Millar is a white-haired Scotsman with a warm personality, a genteel manner of conversation, a quick smile, and a witty remark always on his lips.  He gave me an immediate hug when he saw me in Portugal, even though the extent of our acquaintance was basically limited to a paella dinner in Barcelona almost a year ago.  He's a highly-esteemed bishop in the Church of England, and yet when he retired from his ministry with London's Holy Trinity Brompton (the church who started the Alpha Course, under his leadership, no less) -- he took a position as vicar of Tollington Park (one of the poorest parishes in London) for his "retirement."  As we talked with him, he would continually come back to the themes of loyalty and gratitude (particularly toward the Americans -- I was interested to hear -- who other Europeans seem somewhat prone to disdain, even if politely or silently).  And he regularly demonstrated the importance of generosity:  giving away resources from the church, being willing to walk away from "success," giving credit to others, always trying to hand off the microphone to someone else from his team who could explain things better than he could.  He was a beautiful man with a beautiful wife and a beautiful life of ministry -- yet he somehow managed to remain infinitely approachable.  In fact, I continually wanted to rush up to him and give him a big hug!  It was such a privilege to be able to pray with him and talk with him.

These two men -- though representing opposite ends of the ministry spectrum -- were definitely the highlight of my time in Portugal.  I hope that I can be like them, when I "grow up."

It's been quite awhile since my last post, but it's not because I haven't had anything to say. Quite the contrary, actually! My brain is full to over-flowing after four days of participation in the European Church Planters Network's (ECPN) Learning Community in Villamoura, Portugal. But with sessions from dawn to dusk each day, I didn't have much time for blogging this week.

The ECPN draws a sharp distinction its "Learning Community," which emphasizes dialogue and interaction with multiple sources of information, and the more traditional "conference," which is geared toward passive accumulation of information. And let me tell you, ECPN's Learning Community is definitely an active process! I don't normally consider myself to be an extreme introvert or internal processor -- but by the end of the week, I wanted to find some kind of cave I could crawl into, so I could have some time to let myself process and catch up on all the input that had come in throughout the week!

My favorite part of this week's Learning Community was listening to the wisdom of the two men pictured above. Victor John (left) has helped to pioneer a network of house churches in India (though he is now living in Sweden), and Sandy Millar (right) is a bishop in the Church of England. They both have a tremendous amount of life and ministry experience, and it was a great honor to soak up their wisdom and interact with them throughout the week.

I'm glad that I was there.

Of course, it was an extra bonus that the Learning Community was held on the southern shores of sunny Portugal. We had brilliant sunshine and mild temperatures for the entire week -- which is, perhaps, as great an encouragement for all of us North Sea rim participants as anything. And even though I would have liked to have gotten more free time to get out and enjoy the environment on my own -- I still can't complain if we get to have our coffee breaks, break-out sessions, and team tie-downs in such settings.

Can you identify the famous person lying in the poolside lounge chair in the photograph on the left?