On fancy backpacks, merino briefs, and the responsibilities of the global rich. (Listen here.)

A few  years ago, my colleague Rev Nguyễn Hữu Trí took a group of young people on a trip to Vietnam. They planned to visit Christian communities aligned with factory workers, street kids and people addicted to heroin, both to build connections and to witness the gospel being embodied in these contexts. As Trí tells it, the young people turned up at the airport decked out in brand new gear purchased especially for the trip. And so off they went with their bright new backpacks, ergonomic walking shoes, high tech breathable fabrics and versatile layering options to encounter Vietnam’s poor.

On flea bombs, sick kids, old wardrobes, the Grim Reaper – and resurrection life! (Listen here.)

Hi, I’m Alison, and I’m the daughter of a dynamo! My mother, Ruth Sampson, was a pastor of this church in the 1970’s and 80’s. She was energetic, dynamic, well remembered by many, yet she is long gone. In her absence, I’ve been asked to talk about her contributions, both at Box Hill Baptist and elsewhere in that era, and to draw out some points for your future.

Maybe the lost are not always the people we assume. (Listen here.)

‘Would you like a drink?’ I asked our friend Carl. ‘No thanks,’ he said. ‘Is that an Anglo no, or a Lebanese no?’ I asked. Our friend Carl is from a Lebanese family. In Lebanon, if someone offers you a drink, it is the height of rudeness to say yes straightaway. It might be 36 degrees, you might have walked across Beirut to get there, you might be so dry your tongue is sticking to the roof of your mouth. But you graciously say no, giving your host the opportunity to demonstrate their generous hospitality by offering again, and again, and again. By the sixth time, you can finally say ‘Yes, actually, now I come to think of it, and in response to your exquisite hospitality, perhaps I could manage a small drink!’ Then your host pours you a long cool glass of something refreshing, and hovers at the ready to refill it.