Peter and Miranda moved to Portugal in 1983 to establish and run A Rocha’s first field study centre. Together with their four children they lived at the centre for twelve years until 1995 when the work was given over to national leadership. They then moved to establish A Rocha France’s first centre near Arles, and lived there until 2010, providing coordination and giving leadership to the rapidly growing global movement. They are now back in the UK from where they work to support the A Rocha family around the world while being closer to their own, and not least their grandchildren. Their story is told in Under the Bright Wings (1993) and Kingfisher’s Fire (2008).
In late July 2011, the church lost a great statesman, and A Rocha lost a great friend. News of John Stott’s death reached us just as we were setting off for Strumble Head in Pembrokeshire to watch seabirds, walk the cliffs and scan the skies for Peregrines. John’s beloved cottage, The Hookses, lay just a few miles to the south. Fitting, somehow.
Where do you feel most at home? Is it a place filled with childhood memories, or is it where you live now? Is it in a beautiful landscape, or amongst people you love and trust? Is it safely locked behind the door of your house? Or are you longing for eternity – to be ‘at home’ with Christ?
At a recent conference in the USA, author and Professor Kathleen Dean Moore invited the audience to “give up hope” for the environment. At one end of the hope extreme, she said, is “hopelessness”: nothing we do will matter; at the other end is “uninformed hope”: everything will turn out all right. I agree that neither hopelessness nor uninformed hope is of any value. I stop short, however, of discarding hope.
I’ve grown up with the future according to Hollywood: visions of a scary, dystopian future with a world devastated and destroyed. It’s not surprising that popular Christian literature has followed suit. For years I assumed the central assumption was true: that this world would be destroyed completely when Christ returned in judgment. But as I started reading the Bible myself, my questions grew.
“The ‘what can nature do for us’ approach has made it increasingly difficult for conservationists to protect the most threatened species on the planet. We have an important moral and ethical decision to make: Do these species have a right to survive or do we have a right to drive them to extinction?”
When I preach for A Rocha, the hymn ‘How great Thou art’ is often chosen. It’s often voted amongst all-time favourites, and verse two makes it an obvious choice for the Christian conservationist. Yet, whilst I love the tune and many of the lyrics, my heart sinks every time I hear the last verse…
My family keeps the Sabbath. Not religiously—as in, we don’t always do religious things. But we are pretty religious about “keeping” it. Our only hard and fast rule is no shopping. The point is, we say “no” to certain things. We step out of our normal rhythms of work and commerce and step into a new way of being.
I still remember how it all started seven years ago… We heard the trucks going down to the eastern marsh and saw the smoke rising. Somehow, we knew this was going to be a long battle, but we didn’t know how it was going to end.
“If creation care is so important, why didn’t Jesus speak about it?” The question wrong-footed me at first: after all, when Jesus summed up the Law and the Prophets he said, ‘Love God and love your neighbour’, not ‘Go hug a tree’!
We just got back from a family reunion, quite a big one – huge in fact. One branch of the family couldn’t make it, and one much-loved sister stayed behind to care for a very sick brother, but about 80 others travelled from all over the globe, eager to reconnect with each other. We rented a conference centre in the Netherlands, and slept in dormitories or small cabins in the woods.
