"How was Ireland?"
Ah. I hate this question.
I appreciate the thought behind it,
I appreciate the thought behind it,
but how in the world am I supposed to sum up two weeks into a short,
nicely packaged sentence?
Regardless,
people still ask.
And I still have to {want to} answer.
So...
Ireland was amazing.
We went because we heard a call from God to go,
but moving to a different country is a big deal
and we wanted to be sure.
Now we are.
We discovered that our assessment of what the Lord was telling us to do was correct
{sigh of relief!}
{sigh of relief!}
Sometimes responding to the Lord's voice is hard.
{who the heck am I kidding? MOST of the time it is hard!}
We were really pleased to discover that we aren't crazy and that we really are supposed to move there.
Ireland was beautiful.
It just was.
You know all of those pictures and movies you've seen?
Yes. Just yes.
But, it's not everywhere you look.
Those places do exist and are interesting and incredible,
but you have to go find them.
The area that we were staying in
{upper west coast}
reminded us a lot of our own, beloved flint hills
{in the peak of spring, of course}.
Ireland was heartbreaking.
So much religion and so very little Jesus.
There are Catholic and Church of Ireland {Anglican} cathedrals on nearly every block.
In most cases in these churches,
the true Gospel isn't being preached.
People don't know Jesus.
Everyone knows who Jesus IS,
but very few KNOW Him.
He is a relic, a powerless head-of-state
tucked away in a corner somewhere,
all but forgotten.
His picture is up everywhere,
generally,
depicting the stations of the Cross.
Beautiful,
tragic,
and ignored for the most part,
as His people head for the nearest shrine to light their candle
and pray a guided prayer to a saint for help.
At one point, standing in a magnificent cathedral,
all I could do was fight back tears and utter
"poor Jesus".
Loving His people, loving these people so very much,
and yet being passed over time and again for tradition.
At one point, standing in a magnificent cathedral,
all I could do was fight back tears and utter
"poor Jesus".
Loving His people, loving these people so very much,
and yet being passed over time and again for tradition.
Superstitions,
legalism,
and misrepresentation of the Gospel is rampant.
St. Peter's Cathedral in Drogheda houses several relics that have gained fame.
St. Oliver's head.
Yes,
his head.
St. Oliver was a great man.
He did much for the Gospel in Ireland.
He was interested in social justice and equality.
He made the first school where Protestant children could join their Catholic peers.
He was a good man,
and he was a martyr.
He was beheaded,
and his head resides at St. Peter's.
Don't be confused,
it's not his skull.
Not bones.
His head.
Dehydrated and dried up.
He definitely still has his nose and ears and skin.
It is as weird as it sounds.
Oh, they have some of his bones, too.
Those come out once a year.
People kiss them.
Anyhow,
Religious statistics in Ireland are skewed,
much as they are in America.
According to the Central Statistics Office 80% of the Irish population describes themselves as Catholic.
According to this article, of those interviewed
"35% went to mass at least once per week; 36% went a few times a year; 27% less often (mainly for celebratory or religious occasions), while 5% never attended mass. Only those who defined themselves as Catholics were interviewed."
Sound familier?
The statistics in Ireland are just as skewed as the statistics here are.
Many people identify themselves as 'Christian' here in the states,
but a much smaller number actually regularly attend.
Ireland needs people to tell them about the Gospel,
so share with them who Jesus is.
America needs the same.
We are choosing Ireland because there are far fewer people there
who are willing and equipped speaking the Truth.
