FFT

‎I think it's important to be able to laugh at oneself, but I also think it's important to not be armed with an overwhelming amount of material.
- Vic Lee

Tourist in 'yer own city

It's funny how you can live in a place almost your entire life, and know it only partly.
This week has been funny in how many places I've been that I have rarely, or never been to before, in my life. I made it out to the Beach, which I have been to probably once or twice before, and walked a bit on the Boardwalk. I'm sure I've been there before, and I have been 'around' the Beach area, in other neighbourhoods a lot, like Leslieville, but that was novel. In a way. I realized some of the reasons that I'd rarely been was because many of the same shops and services out there are pretty similar to what I grew up with, and friends I knew from the Beach growing up would meet me half-way, downtown, at the Eaton Centre.
I also managed to get all real urban hipster by finally getting to Nuit Regular's restaurant and catching a show a Yuk Yuk's, other things that I had, for whatever reason, also never been to.
Whoo. You'd think I was becoming a tourist in my own town at this rate... :P

Harry Potter and the smack upside the head

I know I keep mentioning that I'm over a decade late to the party, but I finally tore through the entire Harry Potter series - it's awfully helpful if you have a bunch of semi-busy ER shifts all together, nearby a friend's farm who happens to own the whole series. So ripped right through them, even Order of the Phoenix, as honestly folks, it's a children's series. Not too hard to read.
So? Was I scandalized (as was the evangelical church was) with the sorcery and witchcraft, worried that children all over the place would get the Imperius curse upon them, and follow the dark lord? Did I think it was the best cultural phenomenon of this century?
Um, no and no. To be honest, I found the writing poorly done; as one critic put it, "There is no adverb that JK Rowling doesn't like." The quality of the writing headed further downhill the further into the series one went. That's understandable; there was an enormous amount of pressure to keep pounding out those tomes as quickly as possible.
In addition, Harry's annoying. Yes, I know he's an adolescent, and certainly he acts like one. Yes, I know he lost his parents when he was a baby and was raised in a semi-abusive home. But in comparison to all of his other friends (Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and the rest), he's a smug, stupid boy with an attitude. Snape is right in his assessment of the boy, and really, at some point, Dumbledore should've smacked him upside the head.
I've kind of characterized it as Danielle Steele or John Grisham for children; massively popular on a societal scale, not incredibly challenging reading, definitely has a plot that keeps moving and one interested in what's going on, but definitely not classic, nor grand, literature. Sorry, folks, I know Harry has a rabid fan base, but this is not Tolkien, Dickens, L'engel, Alcott nor Hodgson Burnett.

FFT

The Garden

Ol' man Simon, planted a diamond.
Grew hisself a garden the likes of none.
Sprouts all grown', comin' up glowin',
Fruit of jewels all shinin' in the sun.
Colors of the rainbow,
See the sun and rain grow
Sapphires and rubies on ivory vines,
Grapes of jade, just ripenin' in the shade, just
Ready for the squeezin' into green jade wine.
Pure gold corn there,
Blowin' in the warm air,
Ol' crow nibblin' on the amnythyst seeds.
In between the diamonds, ol' man Simon
Crawls about pullin' out platinum weeds.
Pink pearl berries,
All you can carry,
Put 'em in a bushel and
Haul 'em into town.
Up in the tree there's
Opal nuts and gold pears -
Hurry quick, grab a stick
And shake some down.
Take a silver tater,
Emerald tomater,
Fresh plump coral melons
Hangin' in reach.
Ol' man Simon,
Diggin' in his diamonds,
Stops and rests and dreams about
One...real...peach.

Flesh is made of fibres...

What strikes me, every once in a while, is the generally sad state of marriage. I mean, I do marriage counseling routinely as part of my practice, that's pretty par for the course. That alone is enough to make people really skeptical about the potential beauty and utility of a good, solid marriage. The craziness that goes on in the privacy of people's homes sometimes downright amazes me.
However, I rationalize, those are PATIENTS - they're coming to see me because their lives are so nuts and they hope that I am able to apply some healing balm to the brokenness of their homes. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it doesn't, and sometimes there's a lot of debris left over afterwards, in the form of children, finances, homes, relationship, all broken. And for those that survive the shock and trauma, sometimes the scars and wounds that are left run deep, even if, for all intents and purposes, the 'face' of the household looks like it's back together. Sometimes those scars continue to dog the marriage long after they've decided to keep at it.
What breaks my heart even more is when friends tell me, in confidence, of the state of their marriages. I've noticed it tends to be Christian men who are more honest to me about the state of their marriages. I'm not entirely sure if, for women, there's too much at stake, that they've invested too much in being the princess to their Prince Charming that they cannot admit (and certainly not to a woman who is unmarried, though, honestly, I've seen enough in this world to develop an ennui of 'just how bad it could be') that there is something up. Perhaps the admission that they are not happy, because, as women, we invest so much of ourselves and our identity in our relationships, it is an admission that there is something wrong with us.
At any rate, the stories come: Good, solid Christian men who come to me to tell me not all is right at home. That they struggle often with staying in the home. That they're not sure how to navigate the brokenness of their wives. That they're reluctant to bring children into the world for this reason. That the relentless push for a husband to 'be the spiritual head' is oppressive, and their mistaking that as to have to bear the totality of the blame and the shame in the couple. Of the fights. Of the disappointment and eventual acceptance that this is all the satisfaction that they will get in this life. Of the loss of the passion and light in their lives. Of their second guessing their lives, wondering how they'd ended up with this person for the rest of their lives. It saddens me when they unburden themselves of these terrible secrets. Why me? Probably because partially I do this for a living, partially because I'll never speak of their situations to anyone, partially... who knows?
But I pray. And I pray. And I do see, when I look around the pews, those who are unhappy, but will not admit it either. And I wonder, how can we support those who need help, if they cannot ask? All I can really do is pray for these friends, pray for them, I'm sometimes not even really sure how, and pray that they can make right decisions...

If you could only see yourself in the mirror

It's sometimes the strangest things that re-ignite one's compassion for other people. I think it's awfully easy to wander most of the time with a rather apathetic attitude towards most people one encounters. Indifferent, at best, apathy, most likely.
Last night, a young girl came in, after injecting some junk into her veins that she had been told was meth, but was evidently not once it got in her. She started developing an anaphylactic reaction, which being scary enough, she then got dumped off at the doors of the ER while her "friends" drove away, leaving her on the pavement. She had to get her way to the doors of the emergency room before anyone saw she was there. She was understandably frantic, and we went about our routine work to get her to settle down, which she thankfully did, and then we ultimately transferred her to a more appropriate hospital for care.
However, the poor thing was clearly ravaged by years of drug abuse - you could tell that without the drugs, she could've been a great beauty, but her haggard face and body made her look twice her age. In between her crying episodes and declarations she was going to get off (noble, but unlikely: meth is the worst for most drugs for addictive potential, killing most of its lovers), she said she started when she was only 14, and that her boyfriend was her dealer (so who knows how that relationship benefits her). A sad life, as she lay, half-clothed on our gurney, with her poorly-applied mascara streaming unattractively across her face, an obvious meth mouth where there should've been a set of beautiful young teeth...

Spurious causes and effects

It's funny how superstitious medical personnel get. Re-certifying in my ACLS qualifications a week ago now has us all on tenterhooks here this weekend, waiting for someone to come in complete cardiac arrest. Of course, being the MD here would make me in charge of bringing this hypothetical dead person back to life. This only makes sense, of course, because I'm at my optimal in being able to manage one of those, coming straight out of the classroom, hence, why it should inevitably happen.
We all know this - if someone mentions how the floor, or the ER, is awfully 'quiet', people quickly 'shush' them, thinking that disaster will befall shortly thereafter.
I myself noted that one of the (thankfully) few obstetrical crises I've had to deal with came the day after reading a fictional short story about the very same phenomenon. I kicked myself for reading that book the night before.
And so, I'm studiously avoiding reviewing the algorithms, just in case...

Whoosh! Up in flames!

What I find rather curious is how some have used people's musings on issues on their blogs in order to flame and defame them, and then turn around to then soak the blogger's supporters with petroleum as well.
This has been particularly noted in several postings that I've put up, written by other authors, on Facebook, and then seeing the bloodthirsty battles that then ensue - I suppose I should be thankful that I am able to have a diversity of friends from all over the spectrum of Christendom who can comment on aspects and practices of faith from VERY different viewpoints - but sometimes the aspersions that some make about others, who they don't know and haven't met, are astounding.
Today, even, one friend had posted something on his wall, and in my commenting, had some other guy who I've never met tell me (wow, again, not like I haven't heard this before) that clearly, I'm not a believer and maybe I should read the Bible and authors X, Y and Z (what a big surprise that you would suggest those ones, and not authors A, B and C - probably because you think they're going to hell).
At any rate, in combination with people making assumptions about me by reading this blog, it's amazing what people will do in the relative anonymity of cyberspace. What I find particularly galling is how there are some who have read this page, and, without ever bothering to call or speak to me about it (living in the same city and time zone and all), cast aspersions, create gossip, and make baseless accusations. As if I wouldn't know. Or hoping that I wouldn't know.
For Pete's sake, for a people who are supposed to be easily identifiable by the unity (in diversity) and the love and respect with which we treat one another, I am surprised that there aren't even more people running from the church, screaming and screaming and screaming...

Protect the poor and the vulnerable

Well, it was rather discouraging in seeing how fragile our mental health system actually is. Last evening, en route to a friend's house, from Chinatown, a lady was casually lounging on the street in front of First Baptist, as if she was casually sunning herself. Loretta was her name. Asking if I had some time hang around and to pray for her (Why, of course I have time for those who ask!), she then proceeding to ask me for money, and also to call her family members.
Loretta was clearly mentally ill. Thinking she must be homeless, and needing some connection to get to a shelter, I'm calling around, finally reaching her sister-in-law that asked her to come home to them. Loretta refused, saying she wanted to stay downtown. Sister-in-law confesses on the phone (to a complete stranger!) that it's hard, she runs away often, and since they live in Scarborough and are trying to make ends meet, they can't be running around Toronto trying to find her. All they can do is ensure that she knows how to get home and how to contact them, but after that, they cannot do anything more.
The longer I'm talking to her, the more agitated Loretta gets, telling me I need to stop talking to her sister-in-law, that she doesn't want me to talk to her anymore. Offering a call to 411 also refused.
So, I unfortunately left Loretta on the sidewalk, somewhat assured that she had a family and a home, unsure how to make her move somewhere safer and protected. A bit of a tension in allowing freedom, and yet wanting to force safety.
This, combined with my bloody 'adventure' on the TTC last week with a gentleman with a medical emergency, who clearly could also use a family and a home as well, makes me wonder just how easy it is for us to let people just fall through the cracks. I wonder how to mobilize the Church to love the unlovely. My own experience demonstrates how easy it is for those in the Church to shun and marginalize those who are different in any way. We are called to better than that. The proof in our call to protect the poor and the vulnerable was also manifest in Washington as well, watching our neighbours calling upon their politicians for a circle of protection around the vulnerable...

Washington DC I

I must say that the Americans are fascinating people. I'm already back from there, as it was a jam-packed few days in their nation's capital, but there was much to learn. I realized I was more culture shocked from being in the USA than I was while I was in Turkey, to be honest.
I am convinced that the Americans can indeed still be a force for good, but in talking with many at the conference, it seems that there is a sense that their nation has lost their way. I fear also, for many aspects of their mythology that prevent them from being truly great, including that sense of American exceptionalism, and some of the assumptions of their worldview.
It was encouraging to speak to many these last few days who see what their nation could be and what holds it back. It's encouraging to know that there are still many brave and wonderful Americans. It moves one to pray for that nation as it teeters on, yet again, figuring out who defines what is American, and what aspects of its faith it will choose to suppress and show to the rest of the world...

Turkey V

I think there is something to be said about the self-indulgentness of vacationing. I understand that I happen to live in a country that allows a ridiculous amount of freedom to travel without restrictions, that I happen to be in circumstances that allow me to have the time and the money to travel, and that there are many of millions of people that will never stray far from their place of birth. I wonder if I may have passed some sort of threshold to 'see the world'.
This is doubtful. What I suspect is more likely is the 'purposefulness' of travel. It has been a very long time since I have travelled solely for the purpose of traveling alone. Not for conferences, or for edification of the saints, or for visiting friends who work in far-flung areas doing Very Important Work, or for participating in real, tangible work to help people - those have been the only reasons for my traveling over the past decade overseas to exotic locales.
And so, for 'just' traveling, I find it paradoxically not very satisfying. Ending up on the carousel of the tourist track, of going where everyone else is going, and seeing what everyone else is seeing, seems like a never-ending self-indulgent funfest. Spending so much time within the tourist infrastructure is stifling - you don't have a chance to develop culture shock, because you don't see many people who aren't other tourists, or nationals working for the tourism industry. You move within bubbles of ex-pats, all moving like sheep to the same destinations to gawk at the same things.
The only tangential interaction was staying with some Kurdish couchsurfers, and talking to them about their experiences of being Kurdish in Turkey. Having to struggle to understand their reality and their history was the only mentally challenging and demanding thing that I had to do the whole time. But with that came a slightly deeper understanding of the makeup of this country, of where it will go. It gave me context for the PKK bomb that went off in Istanbul, a few days after we left that city. It helps form what I understand of their upcoming elections next week. No tour guide, nor Lonely Planet, nor tourism travel board can ever give a glimpse of that side of a country's face...

Turkey IV

I have a very difficult time sleeping, as most of you know. It probably relates to my inability to truly relax. However, we have just arrived somewhere, that were it not for the fact we are just staying overnight, I might have actually been able to truly rest. I found myself, lying on a hammock under grapevines and orange trees, just barely, tinily, infintesimally, creepingly so, to begin to not think, not fret about the world, not ponder, not wonder about the church and her problems, not consider God's concern for the world, not do anything. I didn't even have the motivation to leave to see a bit of the regular tourist attractions.
However, a thunderstorm soon broke both of those choices anyways - had to scramble out of that hammock and head for dry docks.... perhaps one day I could try that again...

Turkey III

There are tons of "biblical" sites here, that I'm sure any Bible history junkie could get their fix here. Tarsus and Antioch. The seven churches of Revelation. Paul, John and multiple others have travelled through, or have come from, this region. It simply seeps with the history of the church, thanks to the Byzantine empire (even though it has been obscured, and sometimes a bit hidden from view, after both the Seljuk and Ottoman empires have been through).
Not that we're doing much in the 'bible tourist' category, but we have seen where St. John is said to have retired and written his gospel, and where he brought Mary to spend the rest of her days after he was commanded to take care of her. We have visited the city of Ephesus, and stood where Paul stood when he spoke to the Ephesians (and then got the silversmiths of Artemis really, really mad). We have seen the church where St. John is said to have been buried. We have stood where Constantine has been, creating the Holy Roman Empire in his time. We have been where Richard the Lion-Hearted has been (though sadly, it was because of the Crusades that he came through here). We have seen where the ancient church built entire cities and centres of worship, deep in the mountains and under the hills. We have seen how the Byzantine empire maintained the practice and memory of the church while Europe was in its Dark Ages.
Incidentally, I think we fail to give the Byzantine church (and for that matter, the ancient Celtic church) enough credit in the Protestant tradition for their holding fast to the faith - without them, Protestants/evangelicals/fundamentalists wouldn't even have had a faith legacy to be able to now look at those churches and call them heretical...
To consider the weight of history and to consider that our footsteps actually mirror, two thousand years later, the same places where others have stood and spoken, is quite a wonder.

Turkey II

The one fact about Turkey that I find fascinating is that it is a completely food sovereign nation. That is to say, Turkey is completely capable of feeding itself, and still have leftover for export. That is incredible. There is very little that Turkey actually requires to import for its own survival. Most of the items that it imports, it could surely survive without, if need be, such as coffee and bananas. Otherwise, it is able to produce all of its grain, meat, fruit and vegetables and dairy needs on its own. It even has its own capacity for growing tea and sugar, its own nuts and legumes and its own fishing industry to round out all of its dining needs.
Incredible. In addition, the food itself is incredible. Plenty of vegetables and fresh bread, completely delicious all the time. I have been hard pressed to find a bad meal here, even in the smallest of büfe shops.
Part of it, I think, is how they have been very focussed on using agricultural land. Very few yards or private greenspace lacks fruit or olive trees. Most vacant areas between buildings in smaller towns have greenhouses upon them. Efficient usage of terraces, stacked with greenhouses are noted, even by the sides of main thoroughfares, in order to ensure production of food. Simply amazing. Not knowing too much of their food industry, nor its ethics or economics, I still have to tip my hat to their ability to feed their own people.

Turkey I

So here we are in Istanbul - a city with a long, vibrant history, where two continents collide, the birthplace of Christianity and Sufism. Mosque and cathedral (and back again, as they were all converted to mosques during the Ottoman empire), both rising majestically along the skyline. Saw a few of the 'must see' sites here including the Blue Mosque. Now, not having seen an extensive number of famous mosques around the world, I do believe this is one of the 'famouser' ones. This is also quite evident just based on the throngs of people coming to see it. Also, as in all mosques, you are requested to remove your shoes before entering - the Blue Mosque is the first that I have seen that even has a dispenser roll of plastic bags at the visitors' entrance to put your shoes in (also an indication of just how popular this site is)!
Problem is, the first thing that you notice upon stepping into the Blue Mosque is the distinctive smell of feet. Not the burning incense of cathedrals, not the mustiness of old parchments, but of feet. Before you even notice the soaring dome, the intricacy of the tiling, the majesty of the building and its design, you smell feet. It is disconcerting, to say the least. Furthermore, I think the solemnity and majesty of the building is taken away by the numbers of children running wild in the male area of the mosque (the larger section of the ground space, and the more spacious, as fewer people are allowed in that area, causing great crushes of people in the unisex/visitors' area, which explains why so many children choose to run around the male prayer area). Of course, this could be rectified somewhat if all people, irrespective of their gender, were free to 'come before God', not having some being relegated to small areas in the posterior part of the building. It could, however, also just encourage more tourists, which wouldn't be a good thing either.

Calgary I

Sometimes one's impressions of a city are somewhat not entirely without merit. Calgary, to me, still represents unfettered greed and wealth at the expense of the environment and what is actually good for people. It still represents to me unending sprawl and abhorrent history of poor planning in the past. And yet, there is a mayor there who is the mayor Toronto should have had. There is currently a Calgary regional plan that makes sense within the parameters that it currently finds itself in. There is deep thought going into thinking about what kind of future that they see for themselves. These are all very encouraging things.
However, they are still left fighting against an overwhelming sense of a libertarian paranoia, of stalwarts who still want to do things for profit, raping the earth and refusing to think of future generations, those from some weird "Christian" point of view who say they are not moving with progress (though more likely, not moving with their own personal forms of gain). It's depressing that the stereotypical redneck avarice of the region may very well spell its own demise...

Musing on the muses

I was browsing through the paper today, and noted a collection of photographs being taken at the Cannes Film Festival that's currently taking place. I noted how beautiful all the women were, with their dresses and beautiful coiffed hair. Certainly, they were all dressed impeccably, and so very beautiful. And with very sore feet - I don't think any of them did not arrive on the red carpet without stilettos.
In stark contrast were the photographs taken of the men: Antonio Banderas in an untucked shirt, boat shoes and jeans. DeNiro wearing sneakers (sneakers!) with his tuxedo. Jack Black showing up in a T-shirt and sneakers. The lucky ducks. The men get to show up in clothing they can comfortably wear on the French Riviera, lounging around and even having the belt room to spare for some extra frites before the show starts, and yet the women, the women...
Bound in tiny pieces of footwear. Encased in tight dresses. Forcing their bosoms to heave with the corsets and stays in their tops. It is still the relentless expectations and subjugation of women that force these women, as stunningly beautiful as they are, to be dressed no less oppressively than those of their burqa-covered sisters under the Taliban, or the chanzu of the Han Chinese, or the corseted courtesans in European courts. The irony of the freedom afforded to Western women seems a bit lost when perusing these beauties...

FFT

John of Kronstadt was a nineteenth-century Russian Orthodox priest at a time when alcohol abuse was rampant. Few of the priests ventured out of their churches to help the people. They waited for the people to come to them.
John, compelled by love, went out into the streets. People said he would lift the hungover, foul-smelling drunks from the gutter, cradle them in his arms, and say to them, “This is beneath your dignity. You were meant to house the fullness of God.”
Like John of Kronstadt, we can say to the broken, “Your brokenness does not define you. You are one in whom Christ dwells. You were meant to house the fullness of God.” We welcome them like the Prodigal Son, restoring them to their true birthright, even if they have trouble accepting it.

-James Bryan Smith.

FFT

…Don’t the prophets strike you as kind of cranky? … no wonder those of us who preach often avoid them. Our listeners don’t always like it. We don’t like it.
We like happy books. In most of our churches, it is easier to preach comfort rather than judgment, mercy rather than justice, because by the standards of God’s justice, who can ever measure up?
On the other hand, these passages are in the Bible. In fact, the prophets directly account for 250 of the 1189 chapters in the Bible. Can you really be a biblical preacher and not address what the prophets have to say?
More than that, there is a reason why we need to preach on justice. There is a reason for the anger of the prophets, and why we need to submit ourselves to the discipline of regularly sitting under and preaching their words…
...We read the prophets and think: What’s the big deal? What are they getting all heated up about?
To us, the world is not so bad. Most of us are pretty happy. Things are going okay - at least for me.
I know there’s violence in the world. It’s regrettable, but as long as it doesn’t touch my life, I would prefer not to think much about it. Certainly that’s not connected to my anger, self-centredness, lack of love.
Cheating goes on everyday in business. Somebody shades the truth a little for profit - that’s just the way things are.
Some 8000 children are born with or infected with HIV everyday in sub-saharan Afica, and it’s now the leading cause of death.
A few miles from my church, from any church, children are born in poverty, living in ghettos or slums; they will grow up without access to decent education, housing.
But they’re not my children. Maybe their parents did something to deserve it. So what if in ancient Israel the poor often got the shaft? Where is it any different? Why go off the deep end?
The prophets act like the world is falling apart.
What’s the big deal?
The prophets have been given the crushing burden of looking at our world and seeing what God sees; rich people trying to get richer and looking the other way while poor people die. And thinking God is really pretty pleased with their lives. And that the world is going pretty well.
We tend to avoid preaching about justice because we don’t really want to know the truth about what sin has done to our world and to us. Because that would make us uncomfortable.
As Micah 2:11 put it: “If a liar and a deceiver comes and says: ‘I will prophesy for you plenty of wine and beer,’ he would be just the prophet for this people.”
We prefer preaching that tastes great and is less filling….
…. Events that horrified the prophets go on every day in our world, but we just get used to it - like you get used to wearing your watch. After a while - we don’t notice any more.
The prophets noticed. The prophets never got desensitized to sin. Injustice is sin. Justice is central to shalom. We omit justice from our preaching at peril of our calling, and of our congregation’s health and ability to see the reality around them…
…Concern for justice must also be rooted in Jesus and tied to Scripture. Historian Mark Noll noted that one shortcoming of the abolition movement was a failure to do the exegetical and theological work needed to base abolitionism in the authority of Scripture. As a result, reform movements after the Civil War (from women’s rights to temperance to child labour) became increasingly detached from Scripture, and they became increasingly separated from the concerns of the church…
…When we ask people to involve themselves in justice issues, we are not adding a burden on to their busy lives, or asking them to do the church a favour. Ultimately, what matters most is… Which person is more like God?...
…In some churches, where many attenders are well off, we may have to remind ourselves of how badly injustice stings… we hate it when someone treats us unfairly - at work, in family. The call of Jesus is to get as energized about someone else’s being the victim of injustice as you are when it’s you. In particular, be concerned about injustice to those you might be inclined to overlook.
This is another concrete story, from a woman quoted in Miraslov Volf’s wonderful book Exclusion and Embrace: “I am Muslim, and I am 35 years old. To my second son, I gave the name Jihad so he would not forget the testament of his mother - revenge. The first time I put my baby at my breast I told him, ‘May this milk choke you if you forget.’ So be it. The Serbs taught me to hate. [She describes her work as a teacher and how the very people she taught and cared for became her enemies.] My student Zoran, the only son of my neighbour, urinated into my mouth. As the bearded hooligans standing around laughed, he told me: ‘ You are good for nothing else, you stinking Muslim woman.’”
Jesus often surprised his followers by being concerned for those whom others were inclined to overlook….
… So we are to remind people that it is in Jesus that justice prevails. The cross was the scene of the most monstrous injustice in history, where the one truly innocent person in history was visited with the sum total of human sin.
It is on a cross we see most clearly God’s hatred of injustice. It is an empty tomb that proclaims most loudly justice’s final victory.
And so Jesus’ people are called to form a community where shalom prevails. I love the translation Eugene Peterson gives in Acts 2 of the way the world looking on the early church “and in general, liked what they saw” (Acts 2:47, The Message).
May it happen again.

-John Ortberg.

Summertime, and the living ain't easy...

Well, now that the school year is over (part I of IV to V), I can now get back to... the normal amount of busy-ness. I find it's interesting how it tends to come in waves, rather than in a steady stream. I think it'd be easier that way, if it came at a regular trickle, rather than a mini-tsunami monthly.
Currently enjoying having a new roommate come to live with me, until she gets her life direction all figured out. It's interesting, not having had a (permanent) roommate for a couple of years now and having to renegotiate life with one. It's good and nice to have someone else around the house.
However, I'm regularly intruding on her space so I can access my computer to work on a talk I'm giving on Easter Sunday. Prophetic, it's expected to be. Challenging, too. Yipes. Calling people out of the self-centredness of their own forgiveness, and to broaden their horizons to the reconciliation and transformation of all of life through Christ is where they're being pushed to go. Hopefully impactful; we shall see. The heart is notoriously self-centred and selfish, I know. I can barely break out of my own selfish desires to tend to those around me; the cords of selfishness bind all of us quite firmly.
I'm almost grateful I'm not going to be in the country for another conference that had asked if I'd come to be their plenary speaker (for pity's sake! Can you imagine how some people's teeth would gnash? They would probably wear down their entire enamel that such an infidel as I would be allowed to speak publicly.) this year. Though it would have, indeed, been a fine opportunity to continue to call God's people to envision the wide and lavish love of Christ and His purposes and plans for all of His creation...