Lynns

Okay, so the wedding's over, folks. I don't think we've attended a less detailed wedding. I found out three hours before the event that my bro expected me to be the emcee. No problem, but that is one of many things that stuck out to me. They had worked so hard on a good day but had forgotten some incredibly important details. At the end of the day, though, we noticed three things:

1) It was beautiful. Details are for the birds. Ben teared up when Lynn walked down the aisle. Allison sounded beautiful. I saw friends and family I haven't seen in years. My dad really made everything great for Ben and Lynn. The Lord was there. A relative came up to us and reminded us that there are a few people on my side of our family who remember that it was bittersweet to see all the family at the wedding though none came to ours. We were able to get Ben and Lynn into an emergency first-night suite due to weather. Beautiful.

2) We've been to WAY too many weddings. We concurred on that when we asked Ben and Lynn more detail questions than either mother who helped in planning the day.

3) There are now two Lynn Erskines in my family. Only one is a man.

Why We Do Things

When I sit here on a night 36 hours before my department's annual D-Day I am grateful to be in this position. (I'm also grateful I'm not being graded on that awkward wording.) It's satisfying to know that soon there will be somewhere in the vicinity of 300 people around me, all training for the Lord's work. It's incredible to think that all this stress and these unknowns point to a moving experience spiritually and emotionally. I'm glad for the job I have, the ministry I have, and I realize why we do it. Sometimes I wonder why we Christian ministers slog it out. Then there are times like this. Stressful, yes. Busy, yes. Intense, yes. Overall, a great time!

Best man

I'm the best man in my brother's wedding, and he finally gave me something to do. He has been great about sharing his excitement, but he wasn't convinced that he needed to share the work till recently. I came up with a pretty good bachelor's party (for "clean" people), but I'm a little nervous about how it will turn out. It's going to be pretty low key. Finish the wedding rehearsal, go to a sports bar or something, and hang out. The thing is, that's what he wants! I know I didn't want anything spectacular, but it's different when you're the one planning it. He'll love it - wings, peanuts, sports, and he'll probably have a beer. Sounds relaxing for him. It will be fun for all of us there. Why is it, though, that such a relaxing and fun evening seems only to add to the stress I have?

Reading Blogs

I have had three conversations in the last week about blog-reading. One was with someone who loves reading blogs. The other two were making fun of people who read blogs. At least one of the people who made fun of reading blogs has a blog. That struck me very odd. How many of you make fun of blog-readers? You may as well admit it - you just read my blog.

Sasquatch

Okay, so Grady has been blogging fodder recently. Let's move to Sasquatch now. Sure, Sasquatch is a legend, but aren't legends fun? Let's exchange urban legends. On your mark, get set... wait! These cannot simply be urban legends you found on the Internet because you haven't heard any or can't think of good enough ones on your own. Okay, now ...go!

True Story

Okay, this will be a little long, but I have an amazing testimony to share with you! Terry and Kevin are friends of mine who work in Moncton. Kevin sells cars and recently took Terry to Halifax to pick up a car. They each drove a car back to Moncton, Kevin in the lead, Terry behind.

Terry says there was a semi doing at least 130 km/h (82 mph) down the highway on the return from Halifax. He was following a small car from Ontario, while Kevin was several cars ahead. The semi passed Terry and the Ontario car and was caught behind a slower vehicle. The semi driver didn't pass right away. The Ontario driver, whose family was originally Chinese, decided to pass the semi and the slower vehicle. As the Chinese man pulled out, he noticed that the semi was coming over into his right fender. He slammed on his brakes to avoid being run down the embankment on the left side of the highway.

The brakes were applied too hard, the car spun a little, and they flipped over several times. Terry watched as the car flipped over, and the fourteen-year-old girl in the backseat was thrown out of the vehicle by the force of the crash. The still-flipping car crashed on top of her then flipped off. Terry had pulled over and cell phoned Kevin by the time the car came to rest. While Kevin drove ahead to look for a spot to turn around, Terry ran across the highway to the totaled vehicle.

On the way he passed the unconscious girl who lay mangled by the side of the road. Upon reaching the car he found that the girl's mom was unconscious, bleeding badly, and suffering a severed arm in the passenger seat. The father was conscious and struggling to move out of his seatbelt. Terry ran to him and told him not to move in case he had serious injuries. The man babbled something deliriously, and Terry felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to ask if the man were Christian. He asked. He waited and asked again. Finally the man said, "Jesus...in my heart." Terry was glad and offered to pray with him. The two men prayed together and had a conversation.

After the prayer, Terry called 911. They weren't far from Halifax, but they were far enough that the dispatcher told Terry how to check some vital signs. All three people in the accident were in terrible condition. He continued talking to the dad. When the paramedics arrived, they tried to help him, but the man kept asking them to help his daughter first. The paramedic didn't follow his instruction, so Terry said, "He said to check his daughter first." The paramedic looked at him funny and said, "Whatever, man. He's babbling." Terry insisted, so they checked the daughter first. Kevin was there by this time and helped carry the mother to a stretcher. Terry helped with the daughter.

Once back in Moncton, neither Kevin nor Terry could sleep. Terry witnessed the whole thing, and both men were affected by the condition of the car and the gory state in which they found the family. Terry called the hospital, who would tell them nothing other than the fact that the family were all alive in the ICU. He left his number in case anyone would be willing to call from the Chinese family.

Later that day Terry got a call. It was a pastor of a Chinese church in Halifax. Apparently, the Chinese man is an assistant pastor at a Chinese church in Toronto and had just been a guest to the Halifax church. He and his family were on their way home when the accident occurred. The pastor let Terry know that the Chinese man and his family were all alive and improving. The dad was doing relatively well. The mom had surgery that reattached her arm and was recovering. The daughter would need many surgeries, but she was approved to go home with her family.

Terry said, "Praise the Lord!! Why didn't the man call if he's doing okay? May I please speak with him again?"

The pastor said, "Well, I'm sure you can, but I doubt you want to." When Terry asked why not, the pastor continued, "That assistant pastor can't speak one word of English. You'd never understand him."

If that doesn't give you a "Wow! God's amazing!" moment, then you should get to know Him a little better. :)

Grady

Okay, so I almost cannot believe that I just read Grady's name on my blog. Grady is the best, and I've missed him like bananas. He's cool like slugs on a porcupine and is married to Danielle, the cat's pajamas. Man, Grady, here's a shout-out to you just because I've thought about you and prayed about you so much in the past months (years?). I'm glad things are good, and I hope I'm not the only one who was glad to see you around these parts. God has lifted a burden from my heart in reading your comment (seriously), and I celebrate your procreation with great vigor!

I love Grady. I love Danielle. I love Jandon. I love baby Grady.

If you haven't heard Grady sing, he's the only person I know who made me wish I was listening to someone other than Dana Ingersoll (who did an AMAZING job at Beulah) sing "Now More Than Ever." I'm too excited to keep writing. If you know and love Grady, would you please post something here? Seriously. If you don't, as many of you likely will not, just believe that he is the best.

Thinking

If crazy thinking that drives one to start a blog happens late at night, then great thinking happens in the shower. Why is that? Is it because showers wake us up in the morning, thus stimulating our thinking? Is it the steady stream of warmth that pelts our bodies? Is it because we have nothing better to do while we go through the mindless morning hygiene rituals?

In the last week I've planned my tenth anniversary, developed an admissions counseling training packet, and put together a hypothetical worship "concert" for us - all in the combined one hour and twenty minutes I've spent in the shower.

Since I know I'm not the only one, why is this, really?

Babies Everywhere

Last night Heather said she thinks everyone is pregnant. (I'm not. My wife's not. Heather's not...at least, not that I know of.) Anyway, I couldn't think of many people. She listed off some and convinced me. Jess R., Jenn M., Kristi T., Kelly T., Virnna S., and the list goes on. Then I started thinking of all the babies born recently. My perfect niece, Destiny Dawn. Gabriel Robert, born to some old friends of mine. Asa, whose middle name I forget. Brett and Danyel's baby must be born by now. It's wild, really. Is this just my age? Does everyone feel like all your friends are having babies around 24? Or is there something going around? Baby fever?

What Are We Saying?

So, let's talk eternal security. Some Christians in favor of eternal security say it's proposterous that anyone once saved could ever become un-saved. They say if a Christian stops honoring the Lord and chooses to embrace sin, then they were probably not saved to begin with. Otherwise, the person's lifestyle would reflect their faith. Other Christians not in favor of eternal security say it's proposterous to assume that a Christian will always be saved simply because of a one-time deal. They believe that a person can willfully choose to walk away from the Lord. Otherwise, the person's lifestyle would reflect their faith.

Is it possible that we all believe the same thing, only looking at it from different sides of the same coin? (Of course, Christian interpretation sometimes seems to have as many sides as a Scattergories cube rather than the two of a coin.)

Something to Remember

I remembered something tonight that I doubt I'll ever forget. While driving home from the airport, the student with me said, "You know, I love doing things in the rain." All I could think about was the night in the rain. (If you're offended by mushy things, please move on to another post.)

Natasha and I went to my family's house for Easter weekend. We had been dating only a short period of time. Kissing and holding hands were still new between the two of us. (They still feel new.) We held hands, walking through the streets of Millsboro, Delaware. We passed houses, the school, a few churches. I wanted to show her Cupalo Park, a very nice area in the small town, when it started to rain. Our conversation had been very sweet, and as I looked over at her, she seemed to shine with beauty. The rain picked up, and there we were in Cupalo Park, in a downpour. The rain was warm and steady, and I had the urge to kiss Natasha. So I did. It was a Bethany-appropriate kiss, for those of you who actually buy the "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" bondage. Still, it was a perfect kiss. We just stood there for a moment, realizing that we just had a movie moment. I'll never forget how pure and romantic that evening was. I'll never forget how exhilirated I felt on our walk back to my parents' place.

The moral of this story: Remember. Your relationships will be better because of it.

Child Prodigy?

So, on my business trip to Maryland, Delaware, and Virginia I did a drive-by "Suprise! Happy Father's Day!" to my dad. He was shocked, as was the whole family. It was especially delightful to see my baby sister, Bailey, again. She looks a lot like me when I was a baby. (Hopefully the cute will last for her.) She is also a child prodigy like I was...okay, you're right, I wasn't. She, however, is seventeen (17) months old and counted out loud to ten while I held her on Saturday. Yeah...counted to ten. I even understood what she was saying. I know three year olds that can't even count to ten yet. Sheesh.

Before you are impressed to strongly to send your calculus assignments to this little prodigy, bear in mind that she won't walk. That's right, won't. She can; I saw her. She just prefers to crawl. In other words, she's smart enough to count, but she's not smart enough to realize that walking is faster and more efficient. Hmmm....prodigy?

Oh, yeah, for those of you that know me well enough to get this, she rocks in her (stationary) chair when she's excited or hears music.

When People Aren't People

I've been on the road most of the past three weeks. One of the things I do when I travel is listen to talk radio. Yes, I'm a talk radio junkie. I don't agree with everything I hear, but I'm a fan of people like Dr. Laura, Rush Limbaugh (really rubs me the wrong way), Lars Larson, and most anything from the BBC.

While listening to talk radio on my recent trips I realized that somewhere along the line our "tolerant" super-society has broken down what it means to be human. On Rush's show earlier today, a caller said about the terrorists against whom George Bush is fighting, "Why should we treat them like people? They're not people; they're terrorists. They don't deserve to be treated well." Really, caller? They aren't people?

Lars Larson held a discussion two weeks ago in which he asked the listeners whether or not they would allow doctors to alter their DNA if they could absolutely be sure to prevent a baby being born with something like Down's, Asberger's, or Lou Gherig's. The common consensus was, "Sure. After all, isn't it more cruel not to use our technology to prevent people from denegrating into those diseases that make us less than human? (I'm not exaggerating that word choice.)

When did people stop being people simply because they have evil in their hearts or because of disease? I thought being human meant having body, mind, will, emotions, and a soul. I thought being human had less to do with a particular character type than with who we "are." Clearly I'm off base here. It's scary that we live in a world in which we can call our enemies "unhuman." That certainly sets the stage for self-granted authoritarian cruelty in the name of humanity. It's scary that we can manipulate our genes so that we only have perfect babies. The last time someone tried to create a superior race of people (Milosovic), the US bombarded the Balkans. Yet, it's okay for us because we're not mean like Hitler, Polpot, or Milosovic. We're not committing genocide, so it's okay if we create a superior race.

Friends, especially Christians, this is no good. Being a person has nothing to do with meeting the North American standard of human living. God have mercy.

Holter Monitors

I never heard of a holter monitor until very recently. My doctor asked me to have one when I went to visit him last month, simply as a safety precaution. I looked it up to find that it's a small box attached to my belt clip that is connected to several wires. At the end of those wires are several sticky pads attached to various parts of my torso. Electricity is going through my body right now, just to be sure that my heart is functioning well. I'm supposed to record anything weird that happens. Don't you hate it when they tell you that? That only places ideas in your head. I've had this on for one hour and have wondered, "Is my breath short? Was that a chest pain? Am I too warm?" Psychosomatic symptoms are fun, aren't they?

On a different note, my niece Destiny Dawn Emmerson was born on my birthday last week!

Has It Really Been This Long?

Yes, it has. I can't believe how long it's been since I've blogged. It's actually been a nice release for me since I've started it, but you know how life goes. Shortly after my last blog came the "Intense Two Weeks of Doom" at ATS. I had more to do than I care ever to have again. Between the last papers and exams at ATS, the travel and office work at BBC, and regular life, it was all I could do to think the word "blog," let alone do it. Now I'm done. I've even had five days of let-down time, part of which was a relaxing Victoria Day. This is the first mental break I've had since summer 2003. It feels really good. Here's a shout-out to my dear AP, whose blog you should read (therealap.blogspot.com), who graduated Saturday along with my soon-to-be-local-again friend Andrew.

Speaking of shout-outs, if anyone sees Scottie and he's not running, kick him in the rear. (How's that for accountability, Scottie?)

Getting To It

How many times in the last week have you looked outside (on the nice days) and said to yourself, "What a nice day for exercise!" or something like that? How many times have you done it?

I shouldn't be using the pronoun "you" up there; I should be saying "I." I've looked outside and thought, "It's warming up again. I should get back to last year's exercise plan." Then I lay in bed, enjoying the laziness. People, you need to know this - I AM LAZY. Lazy like lazy. However, it hit me that I need to move it if I'm going to stop dreaming about getting back in shape. I'm not in shape, but I'm glad to say I'm getting to it.

What's the point, you ask? Annoy me this summer, friends. Ask me, post on my blog, whatever...just annoy me by asking if I'm outside. Just beware that I believe equally yoked relationships are the best, so I might return the favor. :) (Misery loves company, in other words.)

The Ruff in the Diamonds

Friday morning I sat among hundreds of people to celebrate the commencement of 41 brothers and sisters in Christ who are going out into the ministry. The speaker was perhaps the best commencement speaker I've ever heard, and he was arguably the best speaker I've heard, period. He spoke about the Christian pilgrimage in a way that inspired all of us to march forward in the name of the Lord. His speech was full of jewels of wisdom and understanding.

At one point in the speech, the speaker gave an illustration that was intended to show the manner in which Christian pilgrims should follow God's adventure. The illustration, however, did something very funny to me. In the middle of all the good words, I felt offended. The speaker began by saying, "If it were up to my wife, the United States would never have been settled west of Boston." After a brief chortle, he moved on to explain the pioneer spirit that led the early settlers west to take land. He called it "free" land. The moment he said, "free land," all I could think of was my Native American grandmother and those of our relatives who are in no-man's land somewhere on a reservation because white people took the "free" land. My emotions flooded with disappointment that such a learned, eloquent man would join generations of ignorant people who have overlooked my native ancestors for years. "But you're white!" you say. Yes, I am. However, being white with native ancestors, I've heard both sides of the story. Yes, the pioneers were amazing. Yes, they fought vigilently to settle mostly untamed land. Yes, they are excellent examples of people who face adversity to get what they want. Far be it from us, however, to overlook the fact that they are also fine examples of robbers, murderers, connivers, torturers, rapists (of people and the land), and manipulaters who put my "uncivilized" ancestors into organized land. The only reason my native relatives didn't have land is because they didn't have flags to stick in the dirt like the white people.

For what it's worth, I spoke about my hurt feelings to a friend earlier today and was told, "What's your problem? The Indians didn't have anything. It was free land." If you're white and you think this, you're wrong. Perhaps some of the land was free, but as a rule, the natives shared and honored the land. Imagine if another, more "civilized" culture came here after us. They might look at us and move us around as "uncivilized" people. When things happen to us from foreign invaders, we call that terrorism. Yet, when we do it to others, we call it pioneering. Now that this is somewhat out of my system, I expect at least half a dozen white people to tell me how off-base I am. I welcome your comments and reserve the right not to reply, simply because you know what I'll say.

Back Home

You know, it can be very difficult not to be "back home" when you feel like you need to be there. I received an e-mail from my sister that reminded me of a lack of spiritual formation she has at home. Don't get me wrong. She lives with my dad (mostly, with some time at mom's...the proverbial joint custody thing) who is a strong speaker and a good pastor. He has been part of spiritual formation for literally hundreds of people in his lifetime. However, things are very stressful at home. My sister feels as though there's no one to support her spiritual walk or her call to the global mission field. Fortunately, I'm aware that I'm not the answer. God is. (Praise His name!) I do wonder, though, why it seems so difficult for pastors' homes to be full of peace and spiritual security? Why does there have to be new trauma every time I call home or go home? I guess we all have this story. What's yours?

Noel-Levitz

They're doing a Noel-Levitz survey on our campus right now. As soon as I read the e-mail I received about it, I could just hear the moans coming out of our students' mouths. Of course, there are some students who probably jumped on it right away. Not everyone hates surveys. However, I know that somewhere deep down, so many students have probably already disregarded it.

You know who the people are that haven't filled out the surveys yet? The ones who complain the most about the school. Funny how it works that way. Maybe it's just a personality thing. I, for one, would love to have had the chance to speak my mind while I was a student, even if that meant filling out a Noel-Levitz survey. Noel-Levitz has no connection to the school, so I would have answered exactly how I felt and would have made sure my voice was heard.

Too many people assume their voice won't be heard. Well, think of it this way. If the only people who are willing to fill out this survey are the keeners (and you know who I mean), then that's the only perspective that the staff and faculty have from the students. If more people fill it out, then it's a more honest reflection of what students think.

Anyway, I'm not a student, so I'm wasting my breath.

Priests and Pharisees

The president of our college spoke very poignantly yesterday about the difference between priests and pharisees. (Well, at least this was one point.) He rightly noted that priests bring the Word/words of the Lord and truly care for people. Pharisees, on the other hand, are ministry experts who "do" things well but who lack the power of God and His Word. Pharisees, he said, came from priests but made other matters more important. You know, folks, the president is right about this. We are called to be priests if we're ministers. We need not to let all those other things get in the way.

"Yeah, yeah, Lynn, we've heard it," you say? Trust me, this post is for your own good. Speaking directly from personal experience, we need to be very cautious as we try to find our ministry placements. While we want to be priests, there are many churches who would actually prefer pharisees. A "talented" minister looks awfully good. Wait it out in prayer; God will send you somewhere in which people actually want a priest.