I have never been so thankful to be moving as I am right now.
Our rent, as of August 1, will go up to more than $900.
$900 for our little 1 and 1/2 bedroom apartment.
For people who have been keeping track, an apartment like this in Calgary, comparable location, would be about $800.
who'd a thunk it would be cheaper for us to live in Calgary than in Saskatoon?
I think, though, that that this is really going to hurt the Seminary. For the longest time, part of their recruitment was 'we're in Saskatoon, and it's so much cheaper here!'
so much for that.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Sunday, April 20, 2008
done
I just finished the last touches on my last final paper this semester.
It's a funny feeling when I finish a semester's work -- I never did the 'ender bender' party during my undergrad, I think partially because I really, really, enjoy what I study. The only difference over summer is that the reading I do doesn't always lead to a paper.
That funny feeling -- I think I'm a bit sad. Happy to do done with the writing and all while trying to attend to a couple of children, but sad that I'm nearly done a journey I started quite a while ago.
Next year -- internship sermons, Newsletter articles. Press releases. Papal bulls. That sort of thing.
should be fun.
It's a funny feeling when I finish a semester's work -- I never did the 'ender bender' party during my undergrad, I think partially because I really, really, enjoy what I study. The only difference over summer is that the reading I do doesn't always lead to a paper.
That funny feeling -- I think I'm a bit sad. Happy to do done with the writing and all while trying to attend to a couple of children, but sad that I'm nearly done a journey I started quite a while ago.
Next year -- internship sermons, Newsletter articles. Press releases. Papal bulls. That sort of thing.
should be fun.
Friday, April 18, 2008
employed again
So I'm once again gainfully employed. Another job in the landscaping/lawn maintenance field. I like it -- it's outside the whole day, and very physical work to counteract the 8 months or more I spend behind a desk each year. Last year I lost 60 pounds over the summer, and have since managed to find about 15 or so of those. I hope that I can repeat that feat (the losing) again.
It's funny, but every so often I meet people who ask me "why don't you work at camp, or something related to the church?" My reply: what makes you think I'm not working for the church doing this?
Sometimes I think that the whole 'professional clergy' idea contributes to the burnout that both individuals and the church in general is experiencing. But then, over the course of the summer I work that out of my system and am ready to get my butt behind a desk again.
hopefully, a little smaller butt next fall.
It's funny, but every so often I meet people who ask me "why don't you work at camp, or something related to the church?" My reply: what makes you think I'm not working for the church doing this?
Sometimes I think that the whole 'professional clergy' idea contributes to the burnout that both individuals and the church in general is experiencing. But then, over the course of the summer I work that out of my system and am ready to get my butt behind a desk again.
hopefully, a little smaller butt next fall.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Homiletics Funeral Sermon
Text: John 17:1b-26
Jesus said, "Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all flesh, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.
I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed. "I have manifested your name to the people whom you gave me out of the world. Yours they were, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything that you have given me is from you.
For I have given them the words that you gave me, and they have received them and have come to know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours.
All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one. While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled.
But now I am coming to you, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one.
They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth. "I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me. Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.
O righteous Father, even though the world does not know you, I know you, and these know that you have sent me. I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them."
Grace, and peace to your from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
It’s been a long road, hasn’t it? On the plaque above the fireplace in my office are the names of all the charter members of this congregation. Bill’s name is there, along with you, Flora. As Bill’s name on that plaque is a testament to the life of this congregation, today this congregation joins in a testament of Bill’s death.
In the side chapel down the hall stands an altar. Bill built it. Before this congregation had a building, before it had a permanent home, Bill saw a need, and filled it. The altar was built with the same attention to detail that Bill brought to everything he did – the style of it, the shape, the feel of it speaks to Bill’s careful attention to it’s fashion and construction at the time. He laid his skills to the work at hand, and rested from it when his task was completed.
And now his work on earth is ended. And we grieve. Bill is dead, his long struggle with cancer ended, and we have lost a someone very dear to us – father, husband, neighbour, friend. We need to let him go.
And that is so hard. At the hospital, when the doctor came to us and explained the options, we knew that he would die. About seven years ago when Bill was diagnosed we feared the worst – his hard breathing, his appearance as he underwent chemotherapy – we all worried that Bill would die then. But he pulled through, and got stronger.
So strong, in fact, that when he started editing the newsletter, he’d often joke to me that he’d have to start cutting down trees himself for all the paper he was using! But that was his way. If he could find humour in something, he’d share it with anyone.
In the last few weeks, though, Bill had started feeling worse, and that wasn’t funny. Even the stairs from the side chapel often proved too much for him. And we knew nothing of the struggles he faced when he went to his shop to work on his latest project – the shortness of breath, the weakness.
Bill knew he was dying. Frequently, over our weekly coffee in the office while he was editing the newseletter, Bill would tell me, "pastor, I’ve lived a good life. I’ve served the Lord good and long, and I’ve been given a wonderful family. But now I’m tired. I don’t want to leave them, but I know that they’ll be fine. The Lord will look after them the way he’s looked after me. When it’s time for me to go, I’ll be ready." He was ready, and we let him go.
I know that people today are feeling many different things. Some are feeling anger that someone as strong as Bill could die so quickly, and you may be angry that the doctors who attended to him didn’t take heroic measures to prolong Bill’s life. They didn’t abandon Bill.
Flora, you walked with Bill for so long that in the midst of your grief you may feel relief for Bill; relief that his pain and struggle are ended. Bill’s death was long in coming, but often those feelings of relief in turn bring feelings of guilt, and you feel abandoned. But Bill was ready to die. He felt his work was finished.
Jesus felt this way before his crucifixion, too. "I have completed my task on earth," he said, "I have completed the things You gave me to do." Jesus knew that he was going to leave his disciples and people whom he cared for to the end of this world, which is death, the way of all flesh. Jesus left his children – his family – at his death, and left us with a promise. He promised that we would be kept in love through all things. That love is stronger than all things, stronger than life, and stronger than death, for in that love Christ rose again from the grave. In that love we are one with our Creator, and our Redeemer.
Flora, it is that love that keeps you in grace for the months to come. Bill often spoke of his journey through this life, and now his journey on this mortal plain is ended. Yours and your family’s journey still continues, though, but that love – the love that conquered death, that brought us together in Christ – will be with you.
Bill has gone on to God’s care, and that care is with us, too. Though we all experience our grief and our pain in our own ways, it does not need to be experienced alone, because Christ promised that we would be united with each other in the same love that he shared with the Father in Heaven. Do not be solitary in our grief, but let that love that binds us together help give you hope, peace, and strength.
There’s an old joke that the only certain things in life are death and taxes, but Bill knew better than that. He knew that beyond death is new life in the Resurrection, as he knew that, as certainly as Jesus rose again from the dead that one day he too will be united with Christ.
Bill knew this, and may we be united with him in that trust and hope, that we will one day taste the new creation when this world is past, death is no more, and when all people will know that the love of God endures forever.
Jesus said, "Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all flesh, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.
I glorified you on earth, having accomplished the work that you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had with you before the world existed. "I have manifested your name to the people whom you gave me out of the world. Yours they were, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything that you have given me is from you.
For I have given them the words that you gave me, and they have received them and have come to know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am praying for them. I am not praying for the world but for those whom you have given me, for they are yours.
All mine are yours, and yours are mine, and I am glorified in them. And I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, keep them in your name, which you have given me, that they may be one, even as we are one. While I was with them, I kept them in your name, which you have given me. I have guarded them, and not one of them has been lost except the son of destruction, that the Scripture might be fulfilled.
But now I am coming to you, and these things I speak in the world, that they may have my joy fulfilled in themselves. I have given them your word, and the world has hated them because they are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. I do not ask that you take them out of the world, but that you keep them from the evil one.
They are not of the world, just as I am not of the world. Sanctify them in the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, so I have sent them into the world. And for their sake I consecrate myself, that they also may be sanctified in truth. "I do not ask for these only, but also for those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one, just as you, Father, are in me, and I in you, that they also may be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given to them, that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become perfectly one, so that the world may know that you sent me and loved them even as you loved me. Father, I desire that they also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory that you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.
O righteous Father, even though the world does not know you, I know you, and these know that you have sent me. I made known to them your name, and I will continue to make it known, that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them."
Grace, and peace to your from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
It’s been a long road, hasn’t it? On the plaque above the fireplace in my office are the names of all the charter members of this congregation. Bill’s name is there, along with you, Flora. As Bill’s name on that plaque is a testament to the life of this congregation, today this congregation joins in a testament of Bill’s death.
In the side chapel down the hall stands an altar. Bill built it. Before this congregation had a building, before it had a permanent home, Bill saw a need, and filled it. The altar was built with the same attention to detail that Bill brought to everything he did – the style of it, the shape, the feel of it speaks to Bill’s careful attention to it’s fashion and construction at the time. He laid his skills to the work at hand, and rested from it when his task was completed.
And now his work on earth is ended. And we grieve. Bill is dead, his long struggle with cancer ended, and we have lost a someone very dear to us – father, husband, neighbour, friend. We need to let him go.
And that is so hard. At the hospital, when the doctor came to us and explained the options, we knew that he would die. About seven years ago when Bill was diagnosed we feared the worst – his hard breathing, his appearance as he underwent chemotherapy – we all worried that Bill would die then. But he pulled through, and got stronger.
So strong, in fact, that when he started editing the newsletter, he’d often joke to me that he’d have to start cutting down trees himself for all the paper he was using! But that was his way. If he could find humour in something, he’d share it with anyone.
In the last few weeks, though, Bill had started feeling worse, and that wasn’t funny. Even the stairs from the side chapel often proved too much for him. And we knew nothing of the struggles he faced when he went to his shop to work on his latest project – the shortness of breath, the weakness.
Bill knew he was dying. Frequently, over our weekly coffee in the office while he was editing the newseletter, Bill would tell me, "pastor, I’ve lived a good life. I’ve served the Lord good and long, and I’ve been given a wonderful family. But now I’m tired. I don’t want to leave them, but I know that they’ll be fine. The Lord will look after them the way he’s looked after me. When it’s time for me to go, I’ll be ready." He was ready, and we let him go.
I know that people today are feeling many different things. Some are feeling anger that someone as strong as Bill could die so quickly, and you may be angry that the doctors who attended to him didn’t take heroic measures to prolong Bill’s life. They didn’t abandon Bill.
Flora, you walked with Bill for so long that in the midst of your grief you may feel relief for Bill; relief that his pain and struggle are ended. Bill’s death was long in coming, but often those feelings of relief in turn bring feelings of guilt, and you feel abandoned. But Bill was ready to die. He felt his work was finished.
Jesus felt this way before his crucifixion, too. "I have completed my task on earth," he said, "I have completed the things You gave me to do." Jesus knew that he was going to leave his disciples and people whom he cared for to the end of this world, which is death, the way of all flesh. Jesus left his children – his family – at his death, and left us with a promise. He promised that we would be kept in love through all things. That love is stronger than all things, stronger than life, and stronger than death, for in that love Christ rose again from the grave. In that love we are one with our Creator, and our Redeemer.
Flora, it is that love that keeps you in grace for the months to come. Bill often spoke of his journey through this life, and now his journey on this mortal plain is ended. Yours and your family’s journey still continues, though, but that love – the love that conquered death, that brought us together in Christ – will be with you.
Bill has gone on to God’s care, and that care is with us, too. Though we all experience our grief and our pain in our own ways, it does not need to be experienced alone, because Christ promised that we would be united with each other in the same love that he shared with the Father in Heaven. Do not be solitary in our grief, but let that love that binds us together help give you hope, peace, and strength.
There’s an old joke that the only certain things in life are death and taxes, but Bill knew better than that. He knew that beyond death is new life in the Resurrection, as he knew that, as certainly as Jesus rose again from the dead that one day he too will be united with Christ.
Bill knew this, and may we be united with him in that trust and hope, that we will one day taste the new creation when this world is past, death is no more, and when all people will know that the love of God endures forever.
Monday, April 14, 2008
new trick
so, the Boy has spent the last little bit working on a new trick, just to amuse his parents. But first, some back story.
the co-Director's parents visited for a couple of days this past week, and the Boy has been running full tilt for at least the weekend, if not more. This kinda compounds a problem, because he's been getting up in the middle of the night just about every night for the last three weeks.
I get up with him, give him a drink and some snuggles, and sleep on the floor of his room until he's asleep. Then, I go back to my own bed.
But last night something changed. He got up at about 3:30, and I picked him out of his crib, got him a drink, and snuggled him in our bed for a little bit. Then I put him back in his room, and left when he seemed pretty sound asleep.
About an hour later he was standing at the door of OUR bedroom, burbling at us about how clever he was. He'd figured out how to get out of his crib.
I didn't think it was humanly possibly to be more proud of him than I already was. He proved me wrong!
the co-Director's parents visited for a couple of days this past week, and the Boy has been running full tilt for at least the weekend, if not more. This kinda compounds a problem, because he's been getting up in the middle of the night just about every night for the last three weeks.
I get up with him, give him a drink and some snuggles, and sleep on the floor of his room until he's asleep. Then, I go back to my own bed.
But last night something changed. He got up at about 3:30, and I picked him out of his crib, got him a drink, and snuggled him in our bed for a little bit. Then I put him back in his room, and left when he seemed pretty sound asleep.
About an hour later he was standing at the door of OUR bedroom, burbling at us about how clever he was. He'd figured out how to get out of his crib.
I didn't think it was humanly possibly to be more proud of him than I already was. He proved me wrong!
Monday, April 7, 2008
on laundry and smelly things
I have totally forgotten just how much laundry is generated by having a small baby. Seriously, we produce the stuff in biblical proportions. the wandering Israelites didn't have as many dirty clothes.
Of course, the biggest contributor is less than two feet long. For those of you who don't have kids, let me share some wisdom with you.
Do you know why babies eat every three hours or so? Because they eat, then spend a 1/2 hour (if you're very, very lucky) being content. Then, there's a process called 'burping'. Basically, the task of burping is trying to get a refund on the milk that 's been consumed. And brother, it comes.
And comes. And comes, and comes. And it lands on you. You can't avoid it. So, you change your shirt. Your baby looks very cute, all bright-eyed, and sweet, and you pick him up again. Process repeats. You change again. Then, because baby now has an empty tummy, it's time to feed again. Process repeats.
I had a practice throughout my undgrad of wearing a shirt and tie pretty often. That changed when we had Duncan, so my seminary experience has largely been of sweaters and jeans. Now they're covered and stained with baby spit. I once spent an afternoon at the Seminary curious about the foul smell in the air. Then a friend pointed out the source -- a tiny little sploot down my back, courtesy of the Boy when I said goodbye.
I used to wear coveralls in the oilfield that were resisant to about every substance known to humanity -- I'm debating adopting these as my official garb until we're done with babies. I could dress them up a little for preaching. honest.
And the same goes for your vehicle, o yes. I drove a little truck. It was nice. Then I met my wife, and it got a little less nice, because of my wife's fondness for skittles met her casual habit of dropping them on the floor when hitting bumps. But I survived, vigorously cleaning once a month or more.
Then we got a minivan. A nicer minivan than most, methinks. Bright red, deep tint windows. If ever a minivan could be cool, It's ours.
At least, until you sit in it. then the smell of baby spit, toddler pook and dessicated, crumbling goldfish crackers hits you and your eyes begin to water. And there's nothing to be done about the smell, no, nothing at all. Tried all air fresheners. A forest of little trees. Cleaned out and shampooed. Holy water is the next step, but I don't know if I have faith in that.
And so our cool minivan now smells slightly less offensive than a pulp mill. When we pull up to red lights, the gangbanger in the lowslung-tinted windows-stereothumping-uberdork-lacking-testosterone-of-their-own car next to us rolls up his window to get away from the smell.
I may tint the driver and passenger side windows, as well. Then I could be cool in my shame.
Yes, but there are benefits to this experience. Quoth my dad when he was visiting: "son, the best part of grandchildren is that you give them back when the time come for that."
Can't hardly wait.
Of course, the biggest contributor is less than two feet long. For those of you who don't have kids, let me share some wisdom with you.
Do you know why babies eat every three hours or so? Because they eat, then spend a 1/2 hour (if you're very, very lucky) being content. Then, there's a process called 'burping'. Basically, the task of burping is trying to get a refund on the milk that 's been consumed. And brother, it comes.
And comes. And comes, and comes. And it lands on you. You can't avoid it. So, you change your shirt. Your baby looks very cute, all bright-eyed, and sweet, and you pick him up again. Process repeats. You change again. Then, because baby now has an empty tummy, it's time to feed again. Process repeats.
I had a practice throughout my undgrad of wearing a shirt and tie pretty often. That changed when we had Duncan, so my seminary experience has largely been of sweaters and jeans. Now they're covered and stained with baby spit. I once spent an afternoon at the Seminary curious about the foul smell in the air. Then a friend pointed out the source -- a tiny little sploot down my back, courtesy of the Boy when I said goodbye.
I used to wear coveralls in the oilfield that were resisant to about every substance known to humanity -- I'm debating adopting these as my official garb until we're done with babies. I could dress them up a little for preaching. honest.
And the same goes for your vehicle, o yes. I drove a little truck. It was nice. Then I met my wife, and it got a little less nice, because of my wife's fondness for skittles met her casual habit of dropping them on the floor when hitting bumps. But I survived, vigorously cleaning once a month or more.
Then we got a minivan. A nicer minivan than most, methinks. Bright red, deep tint windows. If ever a minivan could be cool, It's ours.
At least, until you sit in it. then the smell of baby spit, toddler pook and dessicated, crumbling goldfish crackers hits you and your eyes begin to water. And there's nothing to be done about the smell, no, nothing at all. Tried all air fresheners. A forest of little trees. Cleaned out and shampooed. Holy water is the next step, but I don't know if I have faith in that.
And so our cool minivan now smells slightly less offensive than a pulp mill. When we pull up to red lights, the gangbanger in the lowslung-tinted windows-stereothumping-uberdork-lacking-testosterone-of-their-own car next to us rolls up his window to get away from the smell.
I may tint the driver and passenger side windows, as well. Then I could be cool in my shame.
Yes, but there are benefits to this experience. Quoth my dad when he was visiting: "son, the best part of grandchildren is that you give them back when the time come for that."
Can't hardly wait.
Saturday, April 5, 2008
transitions
I spent my growing-up years in a community of less than 1600 people. Many of those years were spent on an acreage where our yard-light provided the only illumination, a brief homage to the light of millions of stars in the black above. Black above, black below, black beyond. The miles apart brought the community closer together.
But I've spent my adult life in cities. Gradually larger, 60 thousand, 250 thousand, and now anticipating more than a million people to share my space.
I should be dreading the experience. But I'm not.
I'm finding more and more that I enjoy being in the city. I love the challenges and changes of these churches in larger centres, love the hustle of the life outside the walls contrasted with the ecclesial universe that exists entirely unto itself.
I started out this journey viewing my time spent in cities as a sort of exile, wanting to go back to a little rural community. Waiting breathless for breathing space.
But I've found that I breathe just as well here.
semper reforandum.
But I've spent my adult life in cities. Gradually larger, 60 thousand, 250 thousand, and now anticipating more than a million people to share my space.
I should be dreading the experience. But I'm not.
I'm finding more and more that I enjoy being in the city. I love the challenges and changes of these churches in larger centres, love the hustle of the life outside the walls contrasted with the ecclesial universe that exists entirely unto itself.
I started out this journey viewing my time spent in cities as a sort of exile, wanting to go back to a little rural community. Waiting breathless for breathing space.
But I've found that I breathe just as well here.
semper reforandum.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
us and the boys
he looks a little frinkly, doesn't he?
At church on Sunday. I love this picture.
After church on Sunday, hence my collar and Alb.
The Boys.
it's official...
my new home for the next year (beginning sometime in August) is Hope Lutheran Church, Calgary!
Wooohoooo! I've heard nothing but tremendous things about this site, and the co-director and I are so happy to be moving closer to family and friends.
Wooohoooo! I've heard nothing but tremendous things about this site, and the co-director and I are so happy to be moving closer to family and friends.
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