Scotland Missionary Tour; my first time

[true_noir_chloe]

I don't really know how to introduce this section of my memoirs. Every so often I write a section of my life down and then I place it here. It's good practice for my writing. I always say, "while walking through life, take good notes." I hope you enjoy reading some of my notes. I'm also going to seperate this into parts. I'll place a new part here every few days.

Scotland, My First Missionary Tour: Part One



In the year 1981, I went to <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:country-region><st1:place>Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region>, loaned out as a student missionary to help a Presbyterian church in <st1:City><st1:place>Glasgow</st1:place></st1:City>. I had been involved in a start-up campus ministry, similar to Campus Crusade for Christ, who had been recruiting members at the local Bible and book store in <st1:place><st1:City>Thousand Oaks</st1:City>, <st1:State>California</st1:State></st1:place>; my youth teacher had told me of it knowing I might be interested. I went and spoke with the recruiter and was sold, especially on the fact that in the summers we would be involved in overseas missions. So, I packed my bags and headed out to <st1:place><st1:City>Baja</st1:City>, <st1:State>California</st1:State></st1:place> for two weeks of training in missions with around 50 other students. Young singles in a dramatic atmosphere led for more than just missionary training, albeit fun, but there are always the added extracurricular that come with singles placed in an atmosphere like this - which brings me to Clint.

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At the time, I was nearing my 20<SUP>th</SUP> birthday, young, and madly in love with Clint, a missionary I met at training camp in Baja, where beautiful sunsets at our resort and virgin Pina Coladas were shared on the beach. We were the hot young couple and he was the possibility of marital bliss for me. Unfortunately, one of the fellow recruits from the <st1:State><st1:place>Washington</st1:place></st1:State> area had been his girlfriend prior to the training camp. She still had feelings for Clint and after a night of flurried conversation, as I tried to befriend her, I found out they had shared more than a simple dating experience. I broke up with my cobalt blue-eyed and handsome Clint the next day and told him God obviously meant for he and Shelley to be together. Thus, I was on my way for another adventure to the country I had always dreamed of going, <st1:country-region><st1:place>Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region>.

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My Scottish adventure begins here:

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We flew into a rain-soaked <st1:place><ST1:PHeathrow</ST1:P <ST1:PAirport</ST1:P</st1:place> and were picked up immediately by Reverend Ian (I’ll keep his last name out of this story). He smiled much, had a scruffy goatee, peach-fuzz moustache and teeth paid little concern by any dentist. His hair was pulled across the top of his thin skeletal head in wisps and prematurely graying, for a 34-year-old man. I instantly struck up conversation with him, since he was such a friendly and talkative Scot, with a baritone brogue. I loved listening to Scottish accents. He offered, me, the lady, to sit in the front, shotgun and my fellow missionaries on this journey, Bob and Chris, were shown the back seat of his tight fitting red, wind-up toy of a car. Luggage was crammed into the trunk, with a rope to tie it down, and we whizzed immediately through turnpikes and down meandering paths of gray pavement to the city of <st1:City><st1:place>Glasgow</st1:place></st1:City>.

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<st1:City><st1:place>Glasgow</st1:place></st1:City> was a city of tightly fitted three-story tenements, along narrow roads, colorful and Tudor-styled store fronts, with the quaintness of any other European town. On one corner was a tall, steepled Anglican church, built early 1800s (my guess), with stone still beautifully sculpted and intact. On another corner would be another tall-steepled church with stones of carved statues in the shape of angels or saints. Everything was what you would dream of in a city built at the end of the seventeenth century and it was exactly what I had dreamed of when I asked to visit <st1:country-region><st1:place>Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region> – history, my favorite time of history – the Reformation and the martyrs of early Christian thought and Biblical solidarity. A time of fiery men of faith, like Patrick Hamilton and John Knox, who called <st1:country-region><st1:place>Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region> the land of their birth.

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Reverend Ian pulled up to our place of residence for the next three-and-a-half months, a three-story manse (the name of a Reverend’s home) with the other missionaries, Bob and Chris. It was me and the three guys. Unseemly for most onlookers of prudish backgrounds; but, for some reason it had been OK’d by the Presbyterian Church we would be working. I must admit, I had my own qualms of sharing a three-story home with only men. I was naïve however, and thought I could trust men who were Christian. Funny thing is, the Reverend, was a 34-year-old bachelor. He was also a very desperately-seeking-wife-and-save-me-from-my-virginity bachelor. Wake up call number one.

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I remember at the time, I was gung ho about saving the world for Christ – it being my first student missionary tour. Zeal and youth are a good combination to jump into things with nary a thought of consequences. Thinking back on it now, I see I was very naïve.

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[font=Times New Roman][size=100]Thus, on with the story, Bob, who was around my age, was dating a friend of mine, Lori, back in the states. I liked Bob; he was a Californian like me, easy-going, stood at 6’4â€

[true_noir_chloe]

(cont.)

[size=100]The week days were filled with door-to-door evangelism and afternoon visitation during tea time. What a deliciously splendid time of the day. I gained a few pounds enjoying this tradition. I was also to take the female youth, from the church who was interested, along with me on these afternoon witnessing excursions. I made some good friends, especially with a young woman, Patty (not her real name), who always had a smile on her face. Her gregarious nature was contagious and she kept me laughing and enjoying our days walking about the tenements. (The tenements were housing for the poor.) We saw the back areas of [font=Times New Roman]Glasgow[font=Times New Roman] and neighborhoods ill-attended by anyone. Gangs roamed the area and the usual juvenile delinquents. I felt I was watching a movie on the BBC with lots of “bloody this, and bloody that.â€

[Lynx]

wow... i cant wait to hear the rest of this story!!!

[Sephiroth]

Cool, i live in a town, half an hour from glasgow, i'm guessing you liked scotland? although that bit at the end... i guess theres more to the story

[Saint Kevin]

Wow Chloe, great memoirs. Maybe I ought to take your advice and start taking some "good notes" about my life. You're an excellent writer, and I can't wait to hear the rest.

[Mimichan]

*is waiting to read more*.....^_^

*sigh* Scotland....*SIGH* always dreamed of going there.....

[EireWolf]

I've read this story before, and I STILL can't wait to read the rest! You are one heck of a good writer, my friend.

[true_noir_chloe]

Here's another section. I hope you all don't mind this part and it still gives me the creeps when I think about it.


Scotland Tour, section II


I was the guest in Reverend Ian’s home and he treated me kindly. On some day trips he would drive me to the church and insist I go with him on visitation, since I could speak with the women. I was asked to sit in the front seat, next to him, as we drove from place to place and I enjoyed talking to him about <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:country-region><st1:place>Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region>. I’d walk in the door to the manse and he’d be there asking about how visitation went if I was with others in the church, other than him. He often took me on small tours of <st1:City><st1:place>Glasgow</st1:place></st1:City>, pointing out the pubs which doubled for gambling houses, and which building was built when. He was a great tour guide and knew I loved history. I enjoyed our first week in <st1:City><st1:place>Glasgow</st1:place></st1:City> talking with him, like a father. He was actually, at the time, the same age as my mom. Naturally I felt at ease with him.
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It began, possibly in the second week I was there; I would find fresh flowers on the table by my bed. How nice. The Reverend was making me feel at home. Let me go over the lay out of the sleeping situation real quick. I was on the third floor guest bedroom. Below me the two guys slept on the second floor and Ian’s room I think was on the third floor next door to the bathroom.

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Every morning Rev. Ian would have breakfast set out, and he’d drive me to the church or wherever I needed to head out. This went on for the first month and every morning after the second week I would find the fresh flowers in the morning by my bed side. By the end of the third week I found little notes with scriptures written inside. They were always verses from Song of Solomon. Some were very explicit verses of how he felt for his beloved. I asked Bob if he was leaving me notes and he said no.

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I thought, maybe the Reverend was just being hospitable, I was pretty clueless. Why would a 34-year-old man be interested in me?

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Then one morning, I woke slowly. It was a feeling you get when someone is watching you, but you’re not sure who it is. I opened my eyes slowly and noted my door was slightly ajar. I must have forgotten to close it the night before. I was a very private person and always closed my door, since I was in a house with three men. Again, I looked over at my bedside table and there was a card with the flowers. This was beginning to enter eerie, and no longer just a kind gesture. I went on with my day, finding I couldn’t be as friendly with the Reverend, I think as an automatic self-preservation took over. I’d leave early most mornings and took to taking the bus with Patty and Bob and he needn’t drive me. He seemed only slightly upset at my rejection of his chauffeuring.

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It was a cold dreary morning; I woke with that same uneasy feeling that someone was watching me. My neck pricked as I only opened one eye, peeking at who would be watching me sleep. I snuck a peek. I didn’t want whoever was there to know I knew they were there. It was Rev. Ian, staring at me while I slept. My heart beat stopped. I didn’t know if I should confront him there, feeling vulnerable already, or wait until later. I decided I would talk to him later and closed my eyes, praying he would leave. He eventually did. I felt uneasy at what he had been doing in my room every morning for the last few weeks, and now it was beginning to grow from uneasiness to fear.

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During breakfast I barely looked in the Reverend’s direction and went on my way to work as usual. I had no idea what to do. I was alone and my authority figure and host for my first time as a missionary had an obvious crush on me. At that time, no one had heard of stalking. I really hadn’t a clue what to do, so I talked to Bob. Bob told me not to worry; he was sure the Reverend was probably just caught placing the flowers there because he wanted to make me feel welcome. I was reading too much into it. He did tell me he’d keep a close eye on me, and not to worry. What a perfect script for a young guy, the damsel in distress struggling with unwanted affections. It was Bob’s time to shine. We’ll get to Bob later, however.

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Through the next couple of weeks the notes continued, but were more sporadic. Some mornings there would be no notes and flowers and others there would be and I began to think his affections were just in my mind. He was a lonely minister who showed his kindness to a visiting missionary. I must be vain. Why would someone be interested in me, especially an older established man of God? However, I, without thinking, began to elude Ian whenever I could. I found I wanted to avoid him and started hanging out with Bob and Patty and my other friends much more. In fact, Bob and I were getting pretty close as far as friends go and would go off during our field trips and talk, being buds. I soon noticed that Ian was glaring in our direction in passing. He didn’t welcome me with smiles now when I entered the manse, and he began to get angry with everything I did. If I was talking over something that happened during the day, he’d begin to tell me I did it wrong or I was becoming prideful and full of myself. He was treating me the way he treated Chris. Of which, thankfully, he had let off the hook. I was now the person all his pent up anger would go on. I had given him something he didn’t want – rejection. It wasn’t in word, but in how I avoided him.

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After a month, we would take a train into <st1:country-region><st1:place>England</st1:place></st1:country-region>. We were to stay with Ian’s fellow Reverend and family in their home in the city of <st1:City><st1:place>Southampton</st1:place></st1:City>. Bob and I went, but Chris stayed behind. I don’t really remember why. I think he had come down with pneumonia at that time. Chris had been fighting a cold and allergies with the cold environment quite a bit and he had a weak constitution as I recall.

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[size=100][font=Times New Roman]During our train ride I opted to sit by Bob, across from Rev. Ian, rather than by Ian. He had begun to grow an aura of dark, anger around him. He actually scowled when he looked at me, especially when I was with Bob. I was tired on the ride and fell asleep, unfortunately, I dozed off and my head fell and rested on Bob’s large shoulder. Instantly, I was forced awake by a kick to the side of my seat by Ian. “Look at you!â€

[true_noir_chloe]

Okay, here is my most controversial post, I'm sure. Please read with open hearts and minds. I will answer any questions. ^__^

Well, Ian had been toying with the Pentecostal movement which was moving strongly through the established churches in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 /><st1:country-region><st1:place>Scotland</st1:place></st1:country-region> at the time, coinciding with the boon of Christian contemporary music and Maranatha music that developed at the end of the 70s, and he wanted to go to a tent meeting in <st1:City><st1:place>Perth that these two friends of his invited him to</st1:place></st1:City>. We would drive for two hours, north to <st1:City><st1:place>Perth</st1:place></st1:City>, take part in the meeting and then drive the two hours back. It would be a long day. Chris and I objected. Bob was cool about it.

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[size=100][font=Times New Roman]<st1:City><st1:place>Perth</st1:place></st1:City> was an interesting experience for me. I’ve studied the history of the Christian churches and Christian thought, the Reformation, the movements which developed from established churches, such as the early Pentecostalism borne from Methodist doctrines, John Wesley to be exact and his idea of a “second blessing.â€

[true_noir_chloe]

(cont.)

[size=100][font=Times New Roman]Ian drove us back to the manse. I could feel his anger steaming the interior of the car. I chose not to speak, at the time I’m sure I wouldn’t have known what to say. Bob and Chris were in the back seat, equally quiet for the two hour ride. After parking, Bob and Chris got out of the car, but Ian told me to stay he wanted to have a talk with me. Bob glanced over, with his eyes asking if I’d be okay, I smiled, and told him I’d see him inside. In the car, Ian turned to me. His eyes were steely and small. He had this goatee beard that made you think of cheap horror movies and how Lucifer would look. The sky was pitch black and the weather cold as usual. I sat waiting for him to talk. I braced myself for a reprimanding for the service, but rather he began by letting me know he was disappointed in how I’ve been carrying on with Bob. Huh? Bob? I told him Bob and I were just friends. He then said I need to maintain a godlier appearance and attitude. Then it came, he told me I was nothing but a little “tartâ€

[Lynx]

you're such a great writer! i cant wait for the next part of the story!

[SManBeyond]

I would like to echo Lynx's sentiments. I've enjoyed what all you've posted so far and look forward to reading the rest of the story.

[true_noir_chloe]

Scotland Missionary Tour; Last section... finally.


I need to add something here that I see now that the whole incident is in retrospect – Ian supposedly had been filled with the Spirit after the tent meeting – he certainly put on this act during it. On the two hour drive back his mind and heart should have been rejuvenated by the Word of God, by the Holy Spirit speaking to Ian’s heart; however, it was obvious that his thoughts on the drive back were not on God at all. They were on Ian’s own physical needs and very much against me and his internal struggles with me – being a young girl in his home. In fact, now I wonder why I wasn’t sent to live in a home of one of the women in the church and why I was told to stay in the manse. It was improper in the first place. These are all things I pondered in hindsight; but, because all of the occurrences in our life grow us into whom we become, it was never thought over with regret. Anyway, I left Ian’s car and entered the manse.
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<FONT face="Times New Roman"><FONT size=3>I went into the house and Bob greeted me, wanting to know how things went, it was obvious I had been crying. I sat on the couch in the living room and told Bob everything. He was comforting. But then, something happened and I realized I was really alone. As I sat on the couch with Bob, he told me how he had developed feelings for me. I scooted back, realizing he had moved fairly close, knee to knee, to me. He placed his arm around my shoulder and leaned in for a kiss, to comfort me in my hour of need. What?! I pushed him back and in tears, “I don’t think this is what I need right now.â€

[SManBeyond]

Very long, but very good! You write incredibly well! I hope to read another story of yours soon!

[true_noir_chloe]

Thank you for reading through ALL of this SmanBeyond. ^___^ I'm glad you like my writing. I really do appreciate those who read it and hope the Lord uses me somehow, to maybe speak to a part of your life. He's been very good to me. ^___^

If I wrote another section of my memoirs what kind of story would you like to read? I've lived through a lot so there might just be a section you'd like to hear about. It probably won't be added to the testimonials for another month or more, however, since I have some other writing projects going. My memoirs are an ongoing work that I hope to at least finish before I die. *heh*

[SManBeyond]

As to what to write next...um...personally, just about anything would be fine with me. Just write what you feel God wants you to write about next.

[Saint Kevin]

I'll have to agree with SMB here. Maybe there's a lesson that God has really been trying to teach you, for a long time, and it's only fairly recently that you've learned it. If you have any stories like that, perhaps you could tell one. Or perhaps you could talk about your experiences in the Philippines.

I don't know how much sense that really made, but I do have to continue by saying that I really enjoyed your testimony.

I have a few misconceptions about missions that I am just beginning to clear up, but honestly I don't think that I've ever heard the relationships between missionaries being talked about. There is plenty said on how to act to potential converts, but honestly I think that the proper Christian love between missionaries is as much a witness as anything. Thanks for helping me to at least start thinking about this aspect of missions, as I have missions on the back-burner as a possibilty of something God might want to do with my life.

If I may ask a question: How did you come to know that missions work was a part of God's plan for your life?

[Lynx]

*claps* that was great, chloe! i love hearing testimonys! i'll look forward to reading your next work!

[true_noir_chloe]

*bows and blushes* Thanks, Lynx. I'm glad you liked it. *hehe*

If I may ask a question: How did you come to know that missions work was a part of God's plan for your life?

Matthew 28:19,20 "Go therefore, and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commended you]right now[/i] you probably are being called for missions.

Here's another funny side story to this. If you all would like to read this:

A year prior to me joining this group I was at Glorieta camp with all my buds. There were nine of us girls in my youth group who were all very close and did everything together - including my best friend and the one who witnessed to me when I became a believer in high school.

Well, there was a roll call during the last service and it was on missions. It was a big service with all the campers and very emotional. My friends and I were sitting at the back and all very into the message and they asked for all those who wanted to serve the Lord in missions to come down the aisle and they would lay hands on them and pray for them. Well, this went on for awhile - people walking down the aisle to be prayed for and the Spirit was moving greatly and some would go down, I'm sure to be saved, and it was wonderful.

Now, this is the funny part. I felt no call at that time whatsoever to go into missions. Not for me. Every one of my friends walked down the aisle until I was left alone at the top of the balcony looking down at them. I told God I wanted to be honest and I didn't really want to go to Africa or some third world country. I could just witness around town basically. So, my friends were all up front and I was standing at the back, feeling slightly less spiritual. But, I didn't want to lie to God about how I really felt inside.

Anyways, I found it funny that a year later I would be traveling and witnessing cold turkey on colleges in California while only one of them went on the mission field. It was my best friend who traveled and sang with the Continental Singers for a summer. That was it and she later married a music/youth minister and is still the bright witnessing light she had always been in high school.

I just thought that was an interesting side note, St. Kevin. ^__^

[Saint Kevin]

Thanks Chloe, for the story. I totally agree with you that we are all called to "go and make disciples." Some seem more gifted in the going part (evangelism I guess), some seem more gifted in the discipling part, and some seem uniquely gifted to be cheerful and faithful givers to enable the Great Commission to take place. I haven't really discovered my gifts yet, or my role in that Great Commission, but I am excited to see what God might do in my life. Also, I might add, I'm always encouraged by stories of how God has worked in the lives of others. So, if you have any more testimony to share, I'd love to hear it.