retrospective on toronto (for uncle bob)
Mood:  chatty
Now Playing: "Canadian Railroad Trilogy" by Gordon Lightfoot
I'm sitting in my dining room in Thunder Bay drinking Dr. Pepper (can't get that in Cyprus!). As I type on my brand new super-fast laptop, I recall the four days I spent in Toronto...

The first day began in Gatwick Airport at 7:00 AM GMT. It ended at 10:30 Eastern time (aka 3:30 AM GMT the next day). I was up for a very, very long time. Thankfully, I slept during the bus ride from Gatwick to Heathrow and for the beginning of the flight.

Uncle Richard and Aunt Sherri collected me from the airport. First stop: Mr. Horton for doughnuts. Mmm...doughnuts. Doughnuts cooked properl. Doughnuts that are fresh and sticky and sweet and happy and...mmm...

...

mmm...doughnuts...

...

Sorry. Uh...what happened next? Ah, yes. Went to their place and hung out with my cousin Daniel. Listened to Opeth, a Swedish heavy metal band that can make music. Seriously. And then ate. Following eating, Jennifer called and we talked. Then I talked to Aunt Sherri and Uncle Richard about why I wouldn't become Orthodox. This led into a discussion of baptism.

The baptism discussion was kind of funny, because the next day at church there were baptisms. And the pastor preached about baptism. Basically, he says that when a person is baptised s/he receives a special grace from the Holy Spirit, releasing the Spirit's work in his/her life. And that you should get baptised as a grown up even if you were baptised as a baby or child so that this grace will be released in your life.

Guess Uncle Richard and I aren't living full Christian lives.

But what IS the age of accountability?

Anyway, the most exciting part of that day was my first-ever trip to Canada's Wonderland! Daniel took me on a tour of all his favourite rides. It was pretty much awesome. Screaming makes it way more fun. Except I had a sore throat for the next few days. Meh. It was awesome! Last amusement park I went to was Calaway Park, and Wonderland is way bigger than it! My favourite was Top Gun 'cause it's really fast and twists and turns you upside down and stuff. Three cheers for Canada's Wonderland!

Monday, June 19, saw me emerging tiredly from the Pape Station and walking onto Danforth having no clue which was was East. Naturally, I walked West. First building I saw had a Cypriot flag on it! Navin lives in Greek Town. Upon establishing that I had gone the wrong way, I turned around and went to Navin's.

That day, Navin (my supervisor at the Canadian end), Rebecca (IVWS coordinator), and I talked about Cyprus and the year and what the debriefing in Barcelona was like and what I've learned and how I've grown and all that good stuff.

That night was the most depressing hockey game EVER.

We'll leave it at that, although I got to eat 6 pieces of homemade Italian pizza.

mmm...pizza...

...

And then on Tuesday, Navin, Rebecca and I read John 15-17. Jesus is talking with and praying for His disciples. He talks about how He is the vine, we are the branches, the Father is the gardener. We have to remain (abide) in him in order to bear fruit. And we should love each other. And HE will send the Holy Spirit. And all sorts of other stuff.

And what we need to do is abide in Him and love each other so that we can bear big, juicy fruit. (It's gonna move ya...) This is what I unthinkingly said.

I also noted that it's interesting that here in John's Gospel, Jesus is talking so much about loving each other as He loves us and whatnot, because John's letters are about love. Navin's comment: "Yeah, that's right. First John is all about crazy love!"

Then I went off to the airport and flew on to Thunder Bay.

And now I'm discussing Orthodoxy over MSN with a Catholic friend...

blogging away in thunder bay . . .
Mood:  cool
Now Playing: the sounds of john wayne wafting in from the next room ...
So I am back in Canada. Back in Thunder Bay. Back in my old bedroom.

Barcelona was a really great time. I really enjoyed it. We covered a lot and learned a lot. It was a good experience just to tell our stories to each other and begin to make the transition from the focussed life of ministry abroad to "normal" life at home.

Barcelona had two things that I think help make any conference excellent. First: All you can eat buffet! I said grace one night, including the phrase: "Thank you, Lord, for all you can eat buffets." Shannon's son said, "Mommy, if someone can't find something they like here, they must be crazy!" I agree.

Second: Every day began with prayer, praise, and Bible teaching. We looked at 1 Kings, at Elijah. My favourite was the talk on Elijah vs the Prophets of Baal. Lessons: By making things easy for God, we insult Him. You can trash-talk when you know you're better. We are in a battle.

But unlike Elijah, we ought not to go about killing 850 false prophets (or anyone else, for that matter).

It was a good week. It really helped prepare me for re-entry and life back here in Canada. Mostly it did so by giving me the right mental equipment and perspective.

Now I'm in Thunder Bay. On Sunday, I get to give the message at church--twice! And later in the week I'll be doing the whole missionary presentation thing...

blogging away in oxford...
Mood:  happy
Oxford is the sort of place that just makes you feel smarter. Or stupider and makes you want to be smarter. It's the sort of place that makes people dream big dreams. It's the sort of place that just being in it for a day or two makes you want to come and dream big dreams, create beautiful art, and think deep thoughts. Forever.

This is what I was thinking as I slipped my copy of The Man Born to Be King by Dorothy L. Sayers into my most excellent Nepali bag. Then I stood up and walked back outside of The Eagle and Child. It's a bit of a blow to learn that, seeing as how she was a woman and never actually drank with the Inklings, Sayers wasn't really an Inkling. But I don't have any stuff by any authentic Inklings with me, and she's close, having been friends with both CS Lewis and Charles Williams.

Anyway, I walked out onto St. Giles Street, Oxford. I turned right and semi-limped my way along the street (I hurt myself carrying 44 kg all over London the other day). Along the way, I passed The Martyrs' Memorial, which honours Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley, who were all burned at the stake nearby. It's quite impressive--one of those Gothic-style "crosses", with a cross on top, and a statue of each, and an inscription in their honour.

I turned left onto Broad Street and walked past Balliol College. On my right was a cross that is actually part of the street, made out of bricks. It marks the spot of the burning of the martyrs. As I passed the gate of Trinity College, a guy tried selling me a copy of The Big Issue, this magazine homeless people sell to make a little money here in England. I already had a copy.

I really wanted to sit down and read--either Sayers or my copy of The Big Issue. But the bench in front of Trinity College was full. So I wandered over to the Sheldonian Theatre (architect: Sir Christopher Wren), but there was nowhere there to sit. So I wandered back after taking a picture of a most excellent grotesque. Grotesques are like gargoyles, only they aren't downspouts for rain. Oxford has a lot of them. The ones on the wall around the theatre are large men's head's with wonderful facial expressions. I also got a photo of a gargoyle up on the tower at the University Church of St. Mary the Virgin--it's a person with batlike wings, with an open mouth for the water. Apparently there's one gargoyle of a monkey at Magdalen College from whose legs the water comes...

When I got back to Trinity, the guy wanted my copy of The Big Issue, 'cause he needed more to sell so he could eat supper.

By now, the bench in front of Trinity was empty. So I sat down and read a little. Then I got worried, because I was going to a concert tonight with some of Ann's friends, and I was told to meet them at the gate. So I was at the gate at Trinity. But what if Charlie meant the gate at the Sheldonian? So I wandered to the Sheldonian, saw no sign of Charlie, wandered back--and there he was!

Then we went to a concert in the Sheldonian Theatre, the home of Oxford's greatest music. It is also the building used for matriculation and graduation. It is a beautiful baroque building, both inside and out. The seats are uncomfortable. And tonight, for the very first time at the Sheldonian, the "composers" included Gershwin, Natalie Cole, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, and Sammy Davis, Jr. I thought that it was brilliant to hear a big band in such a setting, with its shiny angels and Classical pillars and moulded ceiling and marblesque facades!

Then I came home.

Oxford has been wonderful. The buildings are beautiful. The parks are beautiful. The river is beautiful. The people are nice. It is a great place to be.

Winchester Cathedral
Yesterday I went to Winchester Cathedral. It is big. It's the longest cathedral in England. And it shows. It's mostly this style that's almost Gothic but not quite. And the South Transept is Norman (Romanesque), so that was cool to see. The architecture of that place always draws the eyes upwards. It was quite magnificent. The sort of place that draws you to pray.

There is a lot of art lurking about in it too, with signs telling what everything is. A few tombs of bishops, as well. And little chapels, one of which was set aside specifically for prayer. It has a very nice statue of a Pieta in it.

So I wandered about a bit, from the nave up to the quire. The quire is the bit where the choir sits and where the Holy Table is. Behind the Holy Table is the screen. The cathedral folks moan a little about the Dissolution of the Monasteries during the Reformation, and how sad it is that the original statues from the screen are lost. All we have now are Victorian replacements. Except that I saw part of the statue of Mary Magdalene, and it was painted a lot in vibrant colours.

Too many vibrant colours = gaudy. The modern English artistic sensibilities would shudder if they saw the screen in its former "glory".

That said, iconoclasts were a bit of a shame. They also destroyed a series of statues on the back of the screen (the quire isn't at the very back as it is in a normal church--behind it are a few chapels and the presbytery and the ways into the transepts). These have been replace by modern icons in a Byzantine style.

I gaped at the magnificent screen, then wandered out the North (left) side of the quire to what is apparently the presbytery. And there was a display, "Cracking the Code." Apparently Winchester Cathedral figures in The Da Vinci Code, so they're "cashing in" on it. But what they've done is really cool.

They talk about some of the claims made in the book/film on these big boards in the presbytery, then explain stuff about John the Evangelist always being portrayed in such a manner, with visual examples. It ends with talking about the only "secret" Winchester Cathedral has--the mystery of the Presence of Christ at Holy Communion!

Then on to stage two of "Cracking the Code," where you are sent out to find a few pieces of art in the cathedral that relate to the themes and see them for yourselves, with some comments from art historians in a little leaflet (you find St. John the Evangelist, the Star of David [Seal of Solomon] and a wall painting of St. Mary Magdalene). Following this is stage three.

Stage three is an invitation to enter into the mystery of Christ. First you walk a labyrinth they've constructed out of wood in the North Transept. Now, I've always been wary of labyrinths. But apparently they were built in the Middle Ages for pilgrims who couldn't make it to Jerusalem because it was too dangerous. So I went on it, asking the Holy Spirit to come into and praying and all that sort of stuff. It's like a physical prayer, the labyrinth is.

Next, the leaflet invites you descend into the crypt, where there is a statue called Sounding 2. It holds its hands cupped close to its chest. Stand like the statue and ask yourself what you hold close to it.

Then look at the Pieta. I looked from afar, because I didn't want to bother the man praying. Just as St. John is portrayed feminine, in this art the Blessed Virgin is portrayed a little masculine. Why would the artist do this?

After that, which asked some other questions which I thought good to get people to consider their spiritual state, I wandered a little. Then upstairs in the South Transept. First, the Triforium Gallery, which is all that remains of the gallery of the original Norman cathedral. They've filled it with artefacts, like a museum--bits of ruined statues, mechanical angels, that sort of thing. It was interesting and taught a lot about the history of the cathedral.

Then I saw The Winchester Bible. It took over 20 years to complete. It's in four volumes and brilliantly illuminated. It was beautiful. I like it a lot. (I want one.)

Then I wandered back outside.

The cathedral was excellent. It was truly a place to be able to go and worship God and join with the saints who have been worshipping there for the past 800 years. I didn't feel like I was in a tourist attraction or museum. I felt like they had done a good job for visitors to understand the cathedral as a place of prayer and worship, to be able to minister to us as we wander about in its ancient space.

Once outside, I wandered over to the cathedral bookshop. I bought some postcards and a little book by Nicky Gumbel (of Alpha Course fame) about The Da Vinci Code's claims about Christ. In fact, along with cathedral souvenirs and cute stuff old ladies would like, their was a selection of cathedral-style sacred music and a bunch of books by authors like Brian D McLaren, Lee Strobel, Adrian Plass. The cathedral actually does have a ministry.

So I didn't mind having to give them #4 to be able to see inside this place of worship.

blogging away in london...
Yesterday I went to the British Museum. It's really, really, really big! I saw a whole bunch of Greek and Roman stuff, from Minoans to Alexander, from Etruscans to Hadrian. I also saw the Rosetta Stone. It's behind glass, and there's always a crowd of people behind it.

The coolest thing I saw was this mausoleum from Lykia which they had reconstructed. It was really big, stylised after a Doric temple. It had four pillars at the top, with three Nereids between each pair. And then it had friezes. Very cool.

It was also nice to see the Parthenon Frieze, since it's not at home anymore. Also saw the Discus Thrower.

Then I went and checked out a couple of used bookshoppes in the area. Then I sat in a park and got my bearings. From there, I set off to St. Paul's Cathedral. I passed a lot of great stuff along the way, including a statue of a dragon in the middle of Fleet St.

St. Paul's was just beginning Choral Evensong when I arrived. It was beautiful--the most beautiful worship I've ever been at. We sat in the Quire, beneath the dome. The music just rings in that place. It sounds unearthly. The sermon was about the martyrs of Uganda, whom we remember today. It was good. I really enjoyed it, although I'm not sure I could handle it every week.

St. Paul's itself is a work of art, such brilliant architecture. And it is full of art, from the original paintings, to Victorian mosaics, to various statues, to contemporary paintings of the crucifixion and life of Christ. Beautiful places help create a space where one can worship. St. Paul's does that. It is hard to really put into words.

Unfortunately, St. Paul's is a tourist attraction. And so, after evensong, although I did everything I could to appear pious and untouristy (doing all the proper kneeling, crossing, and whatnot during the service, and even lighting a candle as a prayer for the Anglican Communion afterwards), I was ushered out by one of the staff who wanted to go home. I had gone to look at a wooden cross they have at the back, with the trilingual sign on it, and some writing on the ground caught my eye. Just as I finished, the man gestured to the door, telling me it was this way. I said I was just reading. He said I could come back tomorrow and read. I'm not, of course. I felt like someone who has lingered too long in a museum or art gallery. Except that I was in a church, a building created and set aside for prayer and worship! I wonder what would happen if instead of treating us by default as tourists they treated everyone who walked through the door as a pilgrim. The attitude would be far more pleasant, that much is certain.

Then I wandered across the Thames on the Millenium Bridge. After listening to a bagpiper, I went to the Tate Modern. Interesting. I really don't quite know what to say, except that it was definitely full of modern art. Weird modern art, for the most part. I got to watch a Surrealist film, though, "Un Chien Andalou," by Luis Bunuel and Salvador Dali. What to say about it? It was surreal.

After that, I wandered back to where I'm staying. Did a little more wandering, watched some TV, went to bed. And that was yesterday.

Who knows what today holds?

blogging away in nicosia one last time...
Mood:  not sure
So I just said good-bye to the guys for the last time (I'll see the IFES girls again soon, and Rick again tomorrow). Tonight's farewell events began with waiting around in Eleftheria Square.

This is usually how events begin.

Then, when everyone had shown up, and one guy had left, we went to the one-pound falafel place. We ate falafel, except Raj, because he doesn't like to eat too much and had already eaten food from his own country tonight. He and Renate played pool while the rest of us sat around. Luc ordered the equivalent of two chickens for us to eat. The meat stuck to my teeth. I'm not sure if that's because it was halal or Cypriot, but there you go. Soon, Frank, Madara and Ann came, and they all ordered falafel.

After falafel, we went for ice cream. Dominic joined us there, while Luc left. So for ice cream we were Dan, Raj, two others from Nep, the Latvians, Ann, Frank, Dominic, and then another Nep showed up. We had fun. Got an awesome photo of Dan pretending to lick the big plastic ice cream cone out front.

And now I'm here.

Not sure how I feel about this.

I hate leaving. So I'm sad to leave my friends here. But I'll be glad to be back in a country with signs I can read, and Slurpees, and Dr. Pepper. Back with all you guys! And where it's not 38 above in May normally!!

On Sunday, I was asked if I was glad to go. I said it would be perfect if immigration would let me take all my new friends back with me.

And tomorrow I arrive in England for a trip I haven't planned!!! Ha ha ha!!!

I should enjoy England, though. It's England, after all. I've always wanted to go there! :)

orthodoxy (again)
Now Playing: pop music of some sort
As I prepare to leave Cyprus this very Thursday, I have been thinking. Well, I think a lot. Sometimes so much I wish I could just make my brain shut up. But I can't. Anyway, I've been thinking. And reading. About Orthodoxy. I read some stuff on official Orthodoxy (The Creed by Rev. Andreas Michaelidis, For the Life of the World by Alexander Schmemann, The Way: What Every Protestant Should Know About the Orthodox Church by Clark Carlton), The Divine Liturgy of Our Father Among the Saints John Chrysostom, bits of The Philokalia, and a book on popular New-Agey Orthodoxy called The Mountain of Silence, by Kyriacos C Markides. I have also talked with Frs Ioannis and Andreas, as well as my friend Frank who's lived here for 7 years. I looked a little bit at The Orthodox Study Bible as well.

I have decided that I cannot become Orthodox.

I mean, the West has much to learn from the East. There is no doubt about this. I prefer Schmemann's idea of the Fall resulting from our desire to seek satisfaction outside of God rather than the religious idea of disobedience--it strikes closer to the root of the initial disobedience and explains more what it means to be a sinner than simply "one who sins." There is also a richness in their tradition of prayer and flexible view of "sacrament" (thus adding credence to sacramental babies!).

The initial reason I couldn't become Orthodox is my gut reaction to the giant icon of the BVM that stands near Eleftheria Square, the words "Superholy God-bearer Save Us" in large capital Greek letters (view said icon here). Or prayers like this:

Rejoice Mary, Mother of God, Virgin, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women and blessed is the Fruit of thy womb, for thou hast borne the Savior of our souls. Meet it is in truth, to glorify thee, O Birth-giver of God, ever blessed, and all undefiled, the Mother of our God. More honorable than the Cherubim, and beyond compare more glorious than the Seraphim, thou who without stain didst bear God the word, true Birth-giver of God, we magnify thee. (from Orthodox Prayers)

No argument I have yet read from the Orthodox or Catholic position has convinced me regarding the position of Mary, no matter how many arguments they use, or which (4th-5th century!!) Fathers they cite.

I also find their rejection of the "Latin" view of atonement for the "Classic" view more than I can handle. Latin view: Jesus' death brings about justification & propitiation in their most basic forms as either Catholics or Protestants should be able to recognise them. Classic view: Jesus' death makes us into the sort of people who can be reconciled to God. We are empowered by the Cross to become saints--actually, we are empowered to become gods. But that's not the pure Classic view. That's taking what the bare bones Classic view is and connecting it with what some of the writers I've read say. I do not deny that sanctification--the process of becoming holy--is a result of the atonement. But we must first be reconciled to God and adopted as His sons before we can achieve any degree of holiness. We are reconciled to Him as miserable offenders first. Then we live out how we are saved--we don't have to live out how we are saved in order to be sure he accepts us.

Does that make sense? I read a good article on it, but I'm having trouble finding it.

But, at the end of the day, I have even stronger reasons for not becoming Orthodox. They centre around one central fact:

I would have to be baptised again.

Actually, this isn't strictly true. If I were to become Orthodox, I would have to deny that my initial baptism was a baptism at all since it wasn't by immersion. By this act, I would be making a very bold statement. I wouldn't be saying: "I have had a personal journey and feel that the church Jesus wants me to be part of is the Orthodox Church." I would be saying that my baptism, the baptisms of my whole family, the baptisms of many of my strong friends, of many of the greatest Jesus followers I've met and read about aren't really baptisms. I don't think I could do that. And since the Orthodox Church connects baptism with being born again and salvation, then I would also be saying, "I'm not so sure that you guys are saved." For me to say that would be ridiculous! This is the strongest reason that I find myself shrinking from the Orthodox Church. I would never abandon the rest of the believers in such a way, claiming that they weren't really necessarily part of the actual Church. Never.

other stuff that's been happening
Mood:  hungry
Last time I was online, I cycled home with a blend of "Ring of Fire," "Hurt," and "Walk the Line," going through my head. I was also thinking that if you were to read the last post, you'd think life was pretty bleak.

That, in its way, is a good thing. I think it's good for everyone to get a glimpse of life as it really is. That said, here we go . . .

This morning I took a cold shower. And I just stood there for a while, feeling the refreshing coolness pour over my hot, hot back. Yesterday I built 1/4 of a sand castle in Larnaca (it was going to be really big, but the sand for building dried out, Andrew had to leave partway through, and these flies were biting me, so I quit). In the process, I got a really, really red back. At least people can't criticise it for being white! Ha!

I leave for Thursday and am busy doing necessary things before I go. I bought souvenirs today, which was a good thing. And I have been slowly removing things from my walls and sorting out what will come and what will find a new home. I need to start packing the stuff now! What joy! What fun!

Tomorrow is the last of the ten-week study on the Gospel of John. I hope the guys come. Our numbers have dwindled, what with one guy moving to Limassol, Jim moving to Germany, Stephen currently in police custody. Last week was the crucifixion, and only Jim and one of the S Asians came. Hopefully they'll make it for the Resurrection. This is really crucial* stuff!

Tomorrow is Dan's baptism! He is excited about this and really wants to learn how to walk in Jesus' way. Keep him in your prayers as he sets out in the journey of faith.

Jim left for Germany on Monday. It was sad to see him go, but I know he can do better there if he makes the right choices. And he knows which choices they are, so it's a matter of his will and strength, right?

Anyway, I leave Thursday for England, where I shall enjoy myself for a while before the debriefing conference in Barcelona, and then the journey home. In England I'll see the British Museum, and hopefully Warwick Castle and Oxford and St. Paul's Cathedral and all sorts of stuff!

*No pun intended...

Clubbing, whisky, and b & e
Now Playing: Johnny Cash (on purpose this time...)
Stephen sat in the chair and looked at me. He shook his head a little. He was wearing the same blue Anorthosis* shirt he'd worn last Thursday ("No, I'm not an Apoel man," he'd told me), as well as the same blue shorts. He pulled out a cigarette, and the police officer lit it for him before leaving the strange little room with three old 1980's-esque desks. I sat in one corner of the room on an old-fashioned traditional Cypriot chair, Stephen in the middle on an old swivel chair.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I'm scared, man. I'm scared of prison."

"I can imagine you would be."

Pause. What do you really say?

"I didn't want you to go to the club. I'm sorry I didn't stop you."

"It wasn't the club, man. I went home after and was watchin' TV. Before I knew it, I'd drunk a whole bottle of Jack Daniels. So I went outside. Then I blacked out. They say that I broke into a periptero.** I don't remember any of it."

We talked for a bit longer. I told him that I hoped God would allow the best thing to happen for him to become the man of God he's supposed to be. He said he has no desire for drink anymore. I said that I would pray for the Holy Spirit to come upon him and fill him up to overflowing, that he would have God remove the darkness and pain. I don't remember what else he said.

I left him a New Testament. One of the ones I'd bought for the Sunday night Bible study. He was thankful. When the police came to take him away, I made sure I got his address. He wrote it on the back of the envelope of a letter I received from Jennifer today. As he walked down, he remembered to give me the piece of paper he'd had in his hand the whole time.

"This is for you," he said.

And this is the last I saw of him, walking down the hallway in the police station across the street from Central Debenhams. I went outside and unrolled the piece of paper--half of an A4 sheet of paper. It said BIND WITH CHRIST and then a hand-drawn grid, in the centre of which was a cross. At the bottom it said BELIEVE IN JESUS. All in cheap ballpoint ink. The other side was a note for me.

He won't even get to say farewell. He feels really bad, but he accepts this as what he deserves for the way he was living. We have had some really good times this year. He taught me how to play snooker. We walked around and had some crazy fun times. And he came to The Discovery Course and the study on John. And I joined Rick in baptising him.

I no longer blame myself for what happened. Even if I did fail him and Jim that night, it is past. And they are grown men who need to learn to live spotless lives. And I'm not mad at God for not intervening--although this is one of those times when I feel a little bit like my intercessory prayer hasn't helped so much. Why storm the gates of heaven when those on whose behalf you storm end up in jail for b & e?? The feeling of powerlessness and the desire to be able to go back and make it all okay hasn't left, though. I've had some other dark and angry thoughts ever since Thursday night when they went to the club.

At the end, of course I know that God is faithful. God is good all the time and all that. People are responsible for their own actions. But that doesn't always do much for that pit of pain and spiritual weariness at the core of events like this. It isn't answers that men like me seek so much in these times. It is merely spiritual comfort and more strength, more faith. Because the number one question is WHY. There's no earthly reason that will ever satisfy the man who feels like he has failed, who feels like those around him have failed, who wonders what in the cosmos God is doing.

Johnny Cash just sang this Nine Inch Nails song. Having encountered Stephen's darkness, I think this is often how he feels. Sometimes I do, too. I know Jim does at times.***

I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needles tears a hole
The old, familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything

What have I become?
My sweetest friend?
Everyone I know goes away in the end
And you could have it all,
My empire of dirt.
I will let you down.
I will make you hurt...

*Cypriot football team

**Convenence store/kiosk

***He says, "Oh, I love the song 'Hurt.' I love Johnny Cash." "Jim, that's a Nine Inch Nails son." "It is? But Johnny Cash sings it." "I know."

sometimes i have trouble thinking of what to write
Now Playing: Johnny Cash...
Shall I tell you all about watching Bruce Almighty again last night? About how, although there is lots that resonates with Truth, I can't help but analyse and think about the parts I disagree with? This sort of thing leads me to the question: What does this say about me? I think I judge too much. Nonetheless, I really enjoyed that movie. I liked the little touches, such as "Come, take a closer walk with me."

Or about the joys of trying to pack up and get everything done that needs doing befor I go? Nah. Who wants to hear about that?

Maybe you're interested in the books I'm reading, such as Exclusion and Embrace by Miroslav Volf, which is a theological exploration of identity, otherness, and reconciliation. I really like this book because it's practical theology and challenges the way I think and live. I need to learn how to embrace more and resist the powers of exclusion. I also need to prevent myself from becoming such a power. I already mentioned For the Life of the World by Alexander Schmemann.

Do you want to hear about action instead of mind? About jumping the barrier in the middle of the road? Okay, that's not actually half as exciting as it sounds. We were on our way to a restaurant last night, and it was on the right side of the road. Dominic and I got off our bikes, lifted them over the barrier, then climbed over ourselves.

Should I tell you about the headphones from John's computer that are still playing Johnny Cash even though he's gone and logged off the computer? (Ann and I find that amusing...)

Or about discovering that shawarmas at the one-pound falafel place are also one pound? Playing pool with Dibas and almost gouging out his eye with a cue? Eating Latvian barbecue (shashlix)?

Or should I tell you about what needs prayer? About Jim going to Germany this coming Monday? About Stephen having been unwisely brought into a compromising situation by some others, yet I still feel complicit? About how Dan, in the same situation, showed us the strength the Lord has given him?

Should I tell you my upcoming plans? Do people want to hear about my plans in England, June 1-11, from London to Oxford, and maybe Warwick Castle? Maybe you want to hear about the IFES InterAction Debriefing Conference that'll be in Barcelona June 11-16. How many of you are just dying to know that I arrive in Canada on June 17?

I just have no idea what to blog about today...