The gate closed with a bang. It was the only opening in the stone wall that ran behind the central police station in Padua, Italy. Carmine, the director of evangelism for the Italian Baptist Union and my guide for the day, asked the woman standing with us outside the gate what was happening. She said they closed at 11:30; sometimes they came out and let some more people in—sometimes they did not. We stood around for a while hoping that they would reopen the gate. I sat down in the street and leaned against a car fender; but the metal was too hot to lean against for very long. The crowd still standing in the alley began to disperse slowly when it became apparent no else would get in that day. I was there to apply for my permesso di soggiorno, my permit to reside in Padua. We had already been sent to the front door of the police station, then down the block to another building, and then back to the front door, and now around the corner and down the alley.

I took the banging of the gate rather personally. I am not accustomed to gates closing in my face. For most of my life gates have swung open, welcoming me. I was born a white male in a wealthy western democracy. I usually had the “key” to open gates. Far more opportunities had been offered to me than were ever denied me. When I see a closed gate, I naturally pull on it expecting it to open. That gate, that day, was not going to open for me.

I looked around at the other people in the alley. They were taking this better than I was. They seemed to have more patience, more resilience, more experience with this sort of thing. They were light and dark, Asian and Middle Eastern and eastern European. They seemed accustomed to closed gates and walls that exclude and deny. Their lives had been a series of obstacles to overcome, barriers to be scaled. They had already found their way through many gates to get into that alley that day.

For me, on the other side of that gate, lay a piece of paper that would give me permission to live in this city. I would certainly get the paper, sooner or later. For the others in the alley, a great deal more lay on the other side of that gate—a chance for their children to grow up healthy and safe, a chance for work that will feed their families, freedom from crushing poverty, persecution and forced military service. For them that gate was not just an aggravating bureaucratic hurdle. It was a gateway to new life. Italy is teeming with people seeking a better life. These are the people with whom Debbie and I have come to Italy to work. We will work with immigrant churches and train immigrant pastors. Sitting on the ground in that alley, leaning against a hot car fender, I got my first orientation lesson.

I need to finish my story. I went back to the same gate Monday morning, arriving at 8:00 a.m. It was to open at 8:30. There was already a crowd of people milling around in the alley. At 8:50, several people came out the back door of the police station. The crowd began to press toward the gate. A police officer gave 5 minutes of instructions in Italian, and people began holding up pieces of paper. I didn’t have one of those pieces of paper. I asked the man next to me what was happening, but he spoke only French. So I held up my passport and began shouting: “Permesso di soggiorno…Visto motivi religiosi” (Permission to stay…Religious visa). And, of course, I too pushed toward that gate. Finally an officer looked at my passport and told me to go to the post office at the train station. I was in the wrong place. Simply discovering that you are in the wrong place is real progress, I have learned.

I filed my forms; I am waiting. Feel free to pray….

As you pray for us please give thanks for the following:
* Our family is reunited now in Italy (Debbie and Oreo the dog came after the biennial).
* We are moved into our house and have furniture, electricity, and hot water!
* We had a good experience worshipping last Sunday with a Nigerian congregation meeting in a 14th century chapel outside of Verona. I preached, and next Sunday Debbie will go back and preach.
* We must have a car to visit churches and do what we came here to do. We found an unusually affordable car that will meet our needs perfectly. It is an older car but does not have an extremely high number of kilometers on it.

Please remember the following concerns:
* The church in Verona needs a place to meet within the city so that people can come on the bus.
* We have completed all the paperwork for our permits to stay. Please pray that they will be processed quickly and without further complication.
* Pray that God will give us patience as we wait for our boxes from America to arrive, an internet connection, and the other daily things that make life easier.

Thank you for your prayers and support. You all are truly full partners in our ministry.

Grace be with you,
Jim (along with Debbie, Ben, and Luke)