Cambridge

I said goodbye to the folks from school as they headed to Scotland today. I, in the meantime, travelled to Cambridge. I arrived too late to catch the Christian Heritage walking tour, but walked a very, very long way around the town and outlying areas. I'm disappointed that I didn't make the trip to the Madingley American Cemetery, but it wasn't in my budget.

Cambridge was what I'd hoped England would be: old and beautiful. Last year the university celebrater 800 years (OK, technically some of the colleges are that old). That's nearly 600 years longer than there has been an America. I could feel the seriousness with which these students take their studies, it was a big contrast to London, at least the London I've experienced. In a strange way I can't explain, being here made me want to study harder.

Several of the colleges were open for tours, but I decided against paying to walk around. Instead, I snapped pictures of the massive buildings and beautiful gardens. I even found a hydranga identical to the one transplated from my Mamaw's house in Monterey, KY.

I walked just outside the city proper to meet with Sir Fred and Lady Elizabeth Catherwood this afternoon. Lady Elizabeth is D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones' oldest daughter. I spent a lovely hour having a traditional English tea and listening to them recount the Lloyd-Jones' marriage. I left with the desire to be a better husband and father, having learned not only facts about history and a key preacher, but coming to know the heart of a wise man of God.

The Catherwoods drove me back in to town in time for me to go to King's College's Evensong service. Evensong is the evening service of the Anglican Church, the second part of the Church's daily ritual. Now, in a colloquium last fall, I read throught the text of an early edition of the Book of Common Prayer, the church's "script," or order of worship. I must say that the majority of the text is theologically sound and a beautiful expression of biblical Christian doctrine. The chapel was one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen. I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside, but I'm sure you can find some on the web. The men's choir sang the service and their voices were simply stunning. It was a great experience, but the fact that we were spectators, hardly participants, left me reminded that this piety, if divorced from personal study and meditation on Scripture is deficient.

Afternoon Adventures

When I returned to London from Northampton, I found that they were working on the brickwork outside of my room, and am impact drill is only so tolerable, so I decided to venture out for the afternoon. I found my way down to the Westminster district and came right out of the tube station to see the impressive gave of Big Ben overlooking the square.

Around the block were the parliament houses and the first visible security I've seen on my trip. Lots of security ramparts to keep would-be car bombers at a distance (I assume). The police man with the H&K MP5 sure got my attention!

One of the most impressive sights was the statue of Oliver Cromwell, Lord Protector of England from 1653-58. If the purpose of a political monument is to inspire confidence in its subject, this one accomplishes its task. It is regal indeed. The lion is a nice touch.

Across the street is the massive and beautiful Westminster Abbey. It was closed for tours for the day by the time I arrived, but I managed to capture a few photos.

I ended my day with a trip to Harrods. It's massive and it's expensive (and they didn't even give me a family discount - what's up with that?). I did wander through the writing room to inspect a few fountain pens. All I did was wander (no worries, dear).

Northampton

This morning the group from Southern headed South to Canterbury and Dover while I headed North to Northampton, the home of Philip and Mercy Doddridge. It was an hour-long train ride that passed very quickly. Coming off the train I spotted Castle Hill church (AKA Doddridge Church) on my left. As I came closer, I heard the discordant wail of a young man sitting on a bench in front of the church chanting in Arabic from the Koran. Something Doddridge never likely had to deal with.

After about ten more minutes I arrived at the Northamptonshire Public Library, found my way to the reading room, and settled in for work. I opened a stiff cardboard box to find two Bibles, an accounting book, and five folders full of 190 letters. And so I began.

Initially I was going to translate the letters on the spot, but a few lines in I realized I could make better use of my time with my camera. So, I snapped a few pictures, uploaded them to the laptop, and voila! Decent quality reproductions at several hundred times the size (which is necessary for readability). Most of these letters were from Mercy Doddridge to her husband Philip. I'm very glad to have these letters as they provide a fuller picture of their marriage. In all I snapped 244 pictures of thirty some letters.

I included a few interesting items like pictures of Philip's inscription in his Grandfather's (John Bauman of Germany) Luther Bible. Bauman was run out of Germany for holding to Protestant beliefs. I also photographed a sermon that Doddridge composed almost entirely in shorthand! It looks like hieroglyphics to me.

I also found a letter from the Doddridge's son, Philip, to his mother from 1753 that is written in beautiful copperplate script.

I headed home after a quick lunch at McDonalds. In all it took about four hours roundtrip but advanced my research significantly. Now to transcribe these letters...

Independence Day

I've only ever celebrated Independence Day outside of America twice. Ten years ago today I was in Ghana. Today I am in England, the country from which we seperated, and it's somewhat of an odd feeling. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm wearing my red, white, and blue dress shirt and am as proud of my country as can be. It's just that not having the trappings of a "normal" July 4th has made me more appreciative for what exactly we commemorate today.

At home it's the "fourth of July," and there will be fireworks (to terrify my oldest son), cookouts, and special sales at car lots, etc. One person quipped the other day that Britans recall this date as the "Day of Great Rebellion," and he is right! All of the signers of the Declaration of Independence were law breakers, but I've never been so proud of a band of criminals as I am today.

I was blessed to be able to study early American religious history this spring. I was reminded over and over again how radical were the concepts of freedom that shape our Declaration. Government by consent and not by right? The responsibility of citizens to rebel when basic, God-given rights are violated? We take these ideas for granted.

Take a few minutes to read the Declaration of Independence today. Be reminded (or discover) the list of reasons why its signers sought to "dissolve the political bands" that had connected our colonies with great Britain. Be thankful for brave men who wielded an ink-dipped quill and be encouraged to do hard things when you know they are the right things to do. Most of all, be thankful for freedom as you gather with other believers without fear of government intervention.

May God bless America.

Wesley Chapel

Directly across the street from Bunhill Fields is the Wesley House and Chapel, the London home and headquarters of John Wesley, the founder of Methodism (although he probably wouldn't have liked that title too well).

I spent a lot more time here than I anticipated, namely because it was so interesting and because of the great respect that I have for Wesley. Although I don't agree with him on several areas, his passion to preach the gospel and model of real Christian piety and compassion are worthy of imitation.

His mother, Susanna, is buried in Bunhill Fields. John, and over 5,000 other Methodists, are buried on only a few acres. The chapel is beautiful, adorned with biblical imagery and beautiful stained glass. I did laugh at the drumkit stashed in the corner (the chapel is a functioning church meeting place). There is a museum in the basement, the crypt, as it is called, filled with lots of well-presented exhibits, letters, sermons, and portraits.

I joined a group from Dallas Baptist University on a tour through the Wesley House. Our tour director, Fred, was probably in his late 70s and a volunteer from a nearby Methodist church. His wife was working in the giftshop. He spoke slowly, deliberately, and knowledgably about the house and its contents. It was much better than the handheld audio players many sites here seem to prefer.

Perhaps the most impressive room to me in the whole house was the prayer room, added on to Wesley's bedroom after the house was completed. Its simplicity is part of its beauty: a chair, a fireplace, a desk with Bible and kneeling bench. I couldn't help thinking that this was perhaps the room that for the last years of his life fueled the spread of Methodism.

I also took a walk to Aldersgate Street, about a half-mile to the south, to see the site commemorating Wesley's conversion to Christianity. I sat for several minutes to rest beneath the shade of old trees and to think about how the course of history (not just church history!) was changed by the reading and hearing of the introduction to a Bible commentary.

Bunhill Fields Burial Ground

Today I visited the Bunhill Fields Burial ground and the Wesley House. Bunhill Fields is the resting place of many Nonconformists (that is, those folks who did not remain in the Anglican Church but were Congregationalists, Presbyterians, and Baptists, etc.). Several of my heros are burried here, but regrettebly on Saturdays they gate off the paths through the markers, so I'll need to go back next week. Among those whose graves I did see are:

• John Bunyan (Baptist minister; author of Pilgrim's Progress)
• Daniel Defoe (Author of numerous books, including Robinson Crusoe)
• John Rippon (Baptist Minister, compiler of a hymnbook used widely for over a century)
• Joseph hart (Hymn writer and preacher)

This cemetary really is a striking contrast to the massive glass and concrete structures that surround it. I saw kids riding their kick scooters, joggers, and folks sitting to have lunch on the benches around the perimeter of the Fields. I kept wondering, "Do they know that just a few yards away lie the remains of some of the most influential English Chrstians who ever lived?"

2 July 2010

It was hard waking up this morning, but good to enjoy breakfast and fellowship with students from Southern. I even met one student who's known my mother in law perhaps longer than I have - small world!

Today we loaded up on trains and headed for Bath and Stonehenge. It took a couple of hours both ways. The ruins at Bath were interesting, as was the large Abbey. Stonehenge was very impressive, but most of us had to laugh at the audio tourguides - who must have said, "Perhaps," "We think," or "Some suppose" a hundred times in trying to relate the history of the site.

A group of us headed to a fish and chips place by the Thames. It was very interesting watching the Worldcup there. Almost as much excitement as a UK fan in early April. =0)

1 July 2010

This afternoon, I headed to West London, Richmond to be exact, to meet Ann Beatt, the younger daughter of David and Bethan Lloyd-Jones. We had a great time talking about her mom and dad, their marriage, and philosophy of parenting. I learned a lot that simply can't be found in any book (which, by the way is a reminder that there are lots of people who have a lifetime of wisdom and experiences to share, if only we'll listen.).

This morning I travelled by underground and by bus to the Moravian Church House. Librarian Lorainne Parsons was most helpful in locating a Doddridge manuscript from 1743 for me. Here are a few pictures of the morning's adventure. Next: an interview with D. Martyn Lloyd-Jones' youngest daughter, Ann.







Philip Doddridge was a Congregationalist preacher born in London in 1702. He was a talented scholar, able to work in many fields, but he excelled in theology and philosophy. He led an academy in the town of Northampton where he trained young men in various disciplines. He married Miss Mercy Marris on December 27, 1730 and the established their home in Northampton. Several children soon arrived, but sadly several lived only a few hours, days, or years. The Doddridges were smitten with one another, genuine lovers and commited Christians. Their letters to one another (of which there are around 440), indicate that they missed one another when Philip was traveling for ministry and when Mercy was staying in Bath for her health. Philip caught pneumonia and never recovered. He and his wife travelled to Portugal in 1751 under doctor's orders to change climates, but he never returned to his beloved England.

Here is a picture of the ship's passanger list showing John & Charles Wesley on their journey across the Atlantic where they first encountered the Moravian Christians. A historic voyage, for sure.

Day One

June 29, 2010

I was very sad to leave Tracy and the boys at the security gate. I leave with a heart filled with love and sadness in the knowledge that this is the longest we will have even been apart since we were married (heck, almost since we started dating!). I've never been away from my boys this long.

American Airlines is much better than United. Given our poor experience with United last time we flew, I had low expectations, but the gate steward at #19 was great - she kept everyone informed of delays and worked with probably a dozen folks to get alternate arrangements. A couple of soldiers walked up to the desk and I heard her say, "I'm going to upgrade you to first class; thanks for your service." They didn't ask her to do that. That's class.

Louisville to Chicago was fine. O'Hare is a big airport. We landed, got in queue to go to a gate, then circled back to get in line again! Huh? Oh well. Plenty of time to get from gate to gate. Lots of people on this 777 (the flight was full). My seat was a window seat. A little tight, but all good. I dozed for an hour or so, read for a bit, then found out I could watch Clash of the Titans on my headrest video monitor. I should have slept; the 1981 edition was much better. Such is life.

We were 20 minutes early to Heathrow (130 mph tailwind, according to the Captian). So, we circled the airport for twenty minutes! Oh well, I'm in no hurry. Just hit me that I'm really tired! That's because I've slept about three hours in the last 24. Went through customs in about 20 minutes, got my luggage (it made it!), and headed for the London Underground station. Bought a one week "Oyster Card" from the snobbiest atendent I've ever met - he looked and sounded like Michele from Gilmore Girls (yes, I've watched it).

Boarded the Piccadilly Line for Leicester (Pronounced Lester) Square. Sat next to a mom, Grandmom, and two boys, probably ages 2 and 4. They sang songs about the train. Their family were concerned with keeping them hushed, but I enjoyed their song, even if it did make me miss the boys. Boys, in London or Louisville, tend to be too loud for their parents.

Made it to my tube stop, carrying a rolling suitcase, backpack, and iPad carrying case. Huffed it up about 50 stairs to come out onto the street. Oh my, is it busy! The first thing I noticed is, "Where are the street signs?" Not good. So I did what countless others of my gender have done before me: I just started walking. And walking, and walking. Oh my, did I mention there's lots of people? It didn't take too long for me to figure out I wasn't heading North West, but which way AM I going? I wonder if London follows the same pattern as Louisville? Sun overhead and to my left; is this west? Yeah, I'm in the northern hemisphere, it works! Saw a sign for Soho, wait, that's in the general direction I want to go. Now I'm in Chinatown. Did I mention there's a lot of people here? Maybe this bus driver can help. Reaffirmed in my path, I set my face to the north and kept going. Eventually I found the street I was looking for and kept heading north, north west until I found my cross street and my residence hall.

I got to my room and was sad to learn that they don't have AC in this hall. I was soaked from pulling my luggage through the streets of London for two hours. But they do have showers! As I headed out the door along came Dr. David Puckett, who quickly proved himself to be my hero the rest of the afternoon. After cleaning up I visited his room and he determined that he needed to keep me awake and not let me take a sleep-cycle-defeating nap, so, we went walking.

Dr. Puckett's been here about 30 times, so he knows the routine. We walked tot he library where I hope to do research next week, to the various train stations, to the convenience store where I bought and downed a 1 Liter of Coke (I got more Coke for less money than water). Then he took me to the British Library.

The British Library is the UK equivalent to the Library of Congress. It's really, really big. Dr. Puckett took my Coke and said, "Remember your Greek class when you learned about the textual apparatus, all the various codices?" (Now, in English: The textual apparatus is like the footnotes on the bottom of the page in a Greek New Testament that lets you know which ancient manuscripts they various reading come from.) "Well, go in this room."

I walked in to a dimly lit display hall. There was purple lighting under the display cases, and the cases housed treasures the likes of which I've never seen: illuminated Psalters, various ancient religious texts, and in this small room, the original Magna Carta! Yes, the real 12th century document that I knew was important for founding English law, but couldn't recall all the details. Then I saw what he had originally been telling me: Codex Sianiticus and Codex Alexandrinus, two of the oldest, most complete copies of the New Testament. I stood there amazed: these are the real deal.

Also in this room were the original scores of composes like Mozart, Haydn, and Handel's Messiah. Next to them were the original drafts of many Beatles songs (including "Ticket to Ride" scribbled on a child's birthday card). I wouldn't put them in the same class, but two-hundred years or more will tell if they last.

King George III's massive library is the centerpience of the library building itself. It's six stories tall and in the middle of the building. It's around 65,000 books (even more than Dr. Mohler!).

We ate dinner at of all places, Subway. It was close and cheap. I got back to the residence hall to find that one facet of the college's preview conference I hadn't anticipated was an open mic karaoke night for incoming freshmen, in the commons outside my window. Nice. If I heard "Wooooooo!" in sharp, ear splitting volumes once, I heard it a hundred times! Someone take that mic away from the poor girl. My answer? Allman Brothers on iTunes, as loud as it would go! I don't think I caused them any grief, but I didn't have to hear the noise.

I finally went to be at 11:15 London time. It was hot with no AC, but I wasn't awake long enough to complain.