Today is the first day of school and I’m a bit nervous. Will the class like me? Will I even be able to find the classroom (I have a number but no idea of the actual location.)? Am I really open to learning at this point in my life? It’s going to involve a lot of work. Will I be able to keep up? I’ve been away from formal education for so long. What if I say the wrong thing or screw something up? What if my technology doesn’t work properly? How soon do I need to get there so that I can feel “ready? 

After his mother, the last of eight siblings, died, Gordon MacDonald had a life-explaining conversation with one of his cousins, who pulled no punches in describing that whole group of siblings as “quitters.”  MacDonald described his response to that moment in this way: “The best way I could put it was this: I had a quitter’s gene in me. Forgive me if this is not a clinical statement that a psychologist might recognize. But it explains things to me, even if it is a harsh self-assessment . . . of my mother, of myself.” (Gordon MacDonald; A Resilient Life)

“Eugene was always off on some adventure, and he often pulled a friend along with him, Jerry Olsen was a constant companion during high school. Jerry was the barber’s son, his father an imposing presence who chain-smoked cigarettes while chatting with customers and snipping sharp scissors round their heads, their hair falling like leaves. Like the butcher shop (where Eugene grew up), the Olsen barbershop was a rough and human place. To Eugene, this made it holy.” (A Burning In My Bones; Winn Collier)

Two young men (well, they’re both under 50, so they’re “young” to me!), both recent connections in my life; both of whom received words from me in the last twenty-four hours. The newest acquaintance of the two served excellently in a volunteer capacity in his church. I sent a brief note to encourage him. The man I’ve known longer has been suffering — I sent him a note of inquiry and assured him of my continued prayers. Just words — simple words — words meant to thank and to encourage. I could not have anticipated the response.

Are you an “ugly American?”

“That does it,” you think, “Doug’s finally lost his grip on reality.” But please, bear with me for a moment. I have numerous American family and friends and, while I’m aware of all the turmoil that seems to be plaguing our kin south of the border, I’m not attempting to make a political comment of any sort.

“Grampa, are you my grampa?”

“Can we go look at the flowers?”

“Can we go look at the bamatoes?”

“Are the fish sleeping under the rock?”

Do you have any scars on your body?

I don’t know if it’s still the case, but it used to be that, when completing a passport application, one needed to catalogue any “visible identifying scars’ on one’s body. The first time I completed an application, I did a full physical inventory, using a hand mirror in combination with a bathroom mirror, just to make sure I was thorough. All these years later, that inventory would take me a lot longer to complete. My life, and at least some of the lessons I've learned are documented by scars on my body.

How do you measure an opponent or a rival? How do you measure a person of notoriety whom you don’t know personally?

In the high level athletic world in which I was formed, there were players and pretenders. Sometimes the pretenders looked like pretenders (their equipment or the way they talked gave them away) but other times they looked like they were equipped to play. In the world in which we now live, where talk is valued above skill, there are many pretenders, many who call themselves ‘influencers,’  but they get away with it because we have accepted a critical error.

Two pieces of cardboard, not much thicker than a piece of paper — that’s all it took for something magical to happen. Let me tell you about it.

Those of you who were at church this past Sunday and saw me preach may still be laughing at my faux pas. I know that I am.

On this Canada Day, as we celebrate our national identity, it seems fitting to talk about neighbours once more. So let me tell you a brief tale of two neighbours.

The first is kind some times, but whiny. The more I get to know her, the more I see that her method of getting anything is to get angry and then complain (of course, none of us can identify with this!!). As gracious as I try to be, I can’t help feeling a bit “judged” or “watched” whenever I’m around her.

It shouldn’t have happened. He knew the risks of what he was doing and took necessary and appropriate precautions. The plastic tank caught fire as planned and was burning as expected on the gravel base that surrounded the granary.

I saw it and my heart dropped a bit. I had known it was coming — it always comes — but I hadn’t expected it so soon. A fine, corpuscle of a crack has appeared in the concrete of the patio next to our house. I realized, yet again, that living in a beautiful new house does not take away the responsibilities and duties that come with being a home owner. If you have something, you have to be faithful to maintain it.

He ran into our back yard, panic on his face, eyes frantic, and came right toward me. “Sir, can you help me? There’s some really bad people chasing me and they’re trying to shoot me!” I immediately exercised appropriate concern but, if I”m honest, I was having a bit of an internal chuckle — not at this poor man’s expense but because of God’s sense of humour.

I’m an influencer! I’m sure of it. I also have no followers on the internet (at least, none that I know of), no blog, no podcast, hardly any real presence at all. As far as I know, I don’t get paid for my influence. And here’s another bombshell — you’re an influencer too! And I’m just as sure of that!

Do you love God? What does that love look like on a daily basis? What does it feel like?

Most people that have been following Jesus for awhile would have no problem describing how God loves them. Verses like “God so loved the world …” and “God demonstrates his love for us in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us,” and others of that tenor are not hard to find or to quote. We are aware of God’s extravagant love for us and to what lengths he goes in loving us. It may be hard for us to actually live in this love but we tend to know about it.

The Toronto Maple Leafs lost another game seven and are out of the playoffs. The media (at least the Toronto based media, some of it, ironically, owned by the same conglomerate that owns the team) are crucifying the players. The fans displayed their “class” by throwing all manner of objects on the ice, even during play. Even more ironic, a star player and the head coach of Florida (the team that won the game) both spoke at length about how well the Leafs played and how the media were unfairly treating the players.

Normally, I wouldn’t give professional sports the time of day but….

It was forty-five years in the making but it’s done. At least, it will be done, later this week, when I assemble the various parts and move it from my garage floor to my house. We have a dining room table and I built it — with a little help from friends and family. Today, I’ll share some reflections regarding this journey.

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” is a statement that usually precedes a failure or a disaster story. I have one to tell you this week.

You are predictable. How does that make you feel? What questions does it engender?

Everyone is predictable — even the unpredictable. Their very unpredictability is what makes them predictable. You say, “But I’m a unique person, an individual. I’m not predictable.” Yet, your uniqueness doesn’t affect your predictability.