"The cars hiss by my window..."

"...like the waves down on the beach..."

Ok... so, who am I? Perhaps it is just coincidence that a picture no longer shows up in the "My photo" box on the right, but I would like to ask the question with a degree of seriousness.

I just read a bit of the beginning of the book Starving Jesus and what is sticking in my mind isn't his rebellion against church but his history as a youth pastor and Christian upbringing. Sounds like someone I know. And you know what, it's getting me thinking. Out here in the megacity of Oxford I'm still getting my feet wet as to who I'm ministering to and receiving from, how I should go about doing ministry, and what I should actually do. The church here is progressive in some ways and conservative in others and I'm cool with that. But reading this bit of reflection is stirring me up a little. I'm not saying that I don't want to pastor--cause I do. I'm not saying I'm going to look back on these years and shake my head--I'm sure I will regarding many of my screw-ups but I hope to have a good experience overall. What I'm saying is I am quite postmodern in the way I think, like to rock the boat to uncover the true motives and agenda, and can be obsessively non-conformist. I don't want to stilfe these elements of me and just "do church." At the same time, a lot of the things that feed my personality are not naturally a part of small town culture.

However, there is something in the air at night in Oxford (besides the rank smell of the local frozen food plant cleaning out the old onion rings) that stirs my soul and makes me want to roar. I just want to yell from a precipice "Awake, O sleeper! Rise up from the dead!" I've felt such before... and I like it.

I want to do great things. Really, most of us do. I don't know if what I think is great now is what I will achieve--and frankly, God's got dibs on the truly great designs--but I refuse to just be or just act or even just do. It's total cliche from my high school days, but I've gotta "live the life" in way more ways than I understood back in 1997. Curiously, that phrase reminds me of Mike Farrow: a dear friend who has been gone for two years now and whose memory (along with others) spurns me on in hope.

Ode to the Modern Prometheus

That's right folks. I finally read the great Romantic novel of Frankenstein and I definately recommend it. Apparantly I really like 19th Century Gothic fiction. Anyway...

Well, this isn't really an ode to poor Victor or his creature--more a venue to announce that we have arrived (8 days ago) in the Blueberry Capital of Canada. It is here that I will endeavour to be a youth pastor.

Oxford is an interesting little town. Actually, it is quite busy for only being 1300 people (and pretty much being a one-industry town: Oxford Frozen Foods). But we feel right at home here. Friendliness is a key maritime trait. That and the accent (which is definately stronger here than in Halifax/Dartmouth).

So, again I have little to say. But don't worry, I've been filling my WIDOLIF and sketching ideas for short and long fiction (with such influences as those I have been reading). And with that, I'm off...

Time is Nigh

Well, folks... I'm going offline for a spell here. In just over 8 hours some people are coming to pick up our stuff and move it out east and the computer is going with it. So, even though I have blogged far less than while in school, this time I'm giving a notice of downtime.
I'm working on a short story that I will post soon and I will also have plenty to blog about when I reach Nova Scotia. For now, however, this is i-... ----Oops, too soon. Ok, now!

Beyond Cartesian

I'm a big supporter of thinking (and, of course, the arts). The different processes people use to think, how they think, why they think, what I think of what they think... Fran just interrupted my train of thought (should've taken the bus anyway). Hmm... if "I think, therefore I am," if I don't think or perhaps get distracted what am I? Would not thinking before speaking be an exercise in futility or non-existence? ...do you understand my interest (or obsession) in thinking, yet?

Most modernists would point to Rene Descartes as one of the most significant influences on modern thought. However, I think most people would hold to feelings (emotions and experiences) as their cue to reality. Y'know, "I feel, therefore I am."

I just finished reading The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. A very well written and intriguing mystery. I found it fascinating, however, how many of the characters were completely sold out to science (including one who was both cursed and employed by science). Not that this was all that bad, but there seemed to be an unrelenting faith in rational thought and reason. It was written in the middle of the 19th century in the midst of burgeoning modernism so maybe Collins was a sold-out rationalist (like the aforementioned character, Collins was also cursed with a reliance on opium). However, I'm not convinced that this is so. You see, the characters that are the most logically minded, though they figure large pieces of the puzzle out, make fatal errors in their deductions because they lack a personal connection to certain events. Also, the most noteworthy character in the book, an old butler, has a curious philosophy throughout that condemns logic on a few occasions.

So, where on earth am I going with this? I'm not really sure. In some ways I'm just exploring my own thought process with the hope that some of you will comment and I can explore yours too. At the same time, I've been reflecting lately on the value of thinking and its relationship to feeling. I think (or feel) that I am just mentally (or emotinally) preparing myself for Oxford.

On another unrelated note, check out this guy.

Further Up and Further In

I don't like (in fact, I detest) using the "God told me" card. I just don't like to use it (probably because it is overused and abused). However, paying careful attention to the leading of God in our lives is fundamental to the Christian identity. And that is where I am at now...

Fran and I have just accepted a youth pastorship position in the booming metropolis of Oxford, Nova Scotia. After visiting a couple churches in Ontario and much prayer and consideration, I honestly believe that God has called us to this remote mission field. And you know what; it's good.

So why the Lewisian quote? Well, I feel like an unconscious Reepicheep slowly waking up to the direction I am called. Life lately has been distracting, stressful, and somewhat unsafe. However, despite it all, I have been carried further up and further in. I didn't think I was progressing very much in my deeper life but now I realize I have been carried along. Left to my own devices I would not be a good candidate for any pastorship, yet I'm not left alone.

This is going to be a long blog (hey, it has been a while).

I'd like to give a shout-out to my buddy Steve Adam. Got to see him briefly in Ontario. Steve is the type of guy that if we have no communication for months (or sometimes longer) we can just dive into conversation the next time our paths cross. Steve is also a kindred thinker to myself. It's refreshing to discover that our thoughts are heading in similar directions when our paths do cross.

Life is bittersweet. Jack Johnson says it well:

Down the middle drops one more
Grain of sand
They say that
New life makes losing life easier to understand
Words are kind
They helped ease the mind
Of this, my old friend
And though you gotta go
We'll keep a piece of your soul
One comes out
One comes in

While in Ontario my grandmother suffered a stroke and passed shortly thereafter. In the same timespan a longtime friend of mine got married to a wonderful woman. All the while, my wife and I were considering where to settle next and continuing to anticipate our coming addition. Kind of a soul/road-mark period. Just before the wedding Fran and I (and my immediate family) were able to visit my grandmother. The effects of the stroke were obvious. And yet, I have rarely seen such joyful surprise in someone's eyes as I did in hers when we told her we are expecting. I am at peace with her passing. There is both sadness and relief in the thought (there is also a tinge of both in moving to Oxford). No one writes poetry so beautiful as the crafter of the universe.

Neither does anyone do humor quite so well... so make sure to get your very own "Green Prosperity Handkerchief" here.