Study Break

(I wrote this two days ago while I was away on a study break.)

Study Break

I am on a study break for 2 ½ days in a mountain cabin in southwest Washington beside Speelyai Creek which rolls by outside cold and clear. My goal is to lay out 17 sermons from the Wisdom Books of the Old Testament (Job, Psalms, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and Song of Songs). By ‘lay out’ I mean I want to leave on Wednesday noon with a Title, Textual Reference, Theme, and thumbnail sketch of each message.

I brought my box of tools – 2 Bibles, 1 systematic theology, 1 book of sermons on the Old Testament, 1 Old Testament survey, 2 overviews of the books of the Bible, 1 book on Job, 5 books on the Psalms, 3 books on Proverbs, 2 books on Ecclesiastes, and 1 book on the Song of Songs. In addition I packed 5 more books – a commentary on 2 Timothy (for the messages I preach in Russia in 2 months), Karl Barth’s Church Dogmatics IV.1 (personal reading project), Spiritual Wholeness for Clergy(required reading for the Academy of Spiritual Formation & Direction I attend in February at Mt. Angel), Whole Life Transformation (I am reading this because I’m intrigued by the sub-title, ‘becoming the change your church needs’), and Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird (something ‘fun’ to read).

My alarm rings at 5:30a.m. First I build a fire and second I make my coffee in the espresso maker I brought from home. I read/pray the daily Psalms. I slowly read 1 chapter out of 2 Timothy and then read what the commentary has to say about it. I write down a few thoughts in my journal. I turn out all the lights and sit in silence in front of the fire for 10-15 minutes, trying to be quiet, to be calm, and to sink down into my soul. Afterward I pray as I walk back and forth in front of the woodstove pouring out my heart to God in praise, confession, thanksgiving, petition for myself, and intercession for others starting with Heather, Hannah, and Elizabeth. By now it is light outside and I am ready for a little breakfast, juice and a toasted 8 grain bagel.

I make a second cup of coffee, Starbucks Via Ready Brew Caramel flavored instant coffee. I am disappointed with the caramel flavor but it is better than nothing. Before I sit down to study I put more wood on the fire and bring in more logs from the wood stack in the carport.

I light a candle, put on Bach on my iPod player, and sit down at the dining table surrounded by my mini library. I read my Bible, read my books, think, scribble down thoughts, and lay out a 5 month Sunday schedule on a lined, yellow legal pad. I prayed about this time before I left home and asked others to pray for me as well, for inspiration and direction. It’s time for answered prayer. What’s it going to be?

Slowly my sermonizing juices begin to flow. I break down whole books into digestible sermon parts. I fish mind and heart for message titles. I latch onto themes from my reading and scribbles. I ‘see’ sermon parts come together as a whole. I write down the final version on my yellow legal pad and move on.

At 11:30am I drive into Cougar and eat lunch in the only greasy spoons restaurant open. I’ve had better and I’ve had worse. I feel out of place among all of the locals who seem to know each other. Today at lunch 2 old-timers drank coffee at the table next to mine. In a conversation with the waitress one of them realized that he knew her father in the area when she was just a little girl. Her parting comment as she rushed into the kitchen, their order in hand, with a big smile on her face, “It’s a small world, isn’t it?”

I put more logs on the fire when I come back and take a 30 minute nap but not before I read another chapter from To Kill A Mockingbird. Atticus shines in court as he pulls out all his stops to defend Tom Robinson against false charges of raping a white girl. I want to finish the book before I leave.

Early afternoon is more of what I did in the morning but my mind is not as sharp and results come slower and harder. By 2:30-3:00pm I reach my limit for work. Sermonizing is done for the day. I spend the rest of the afternoon reading and working on other projects.

At 4p.m. I go on a 4 mile walk that takes me a little under an hour to do. I pass a herd of elk feeding in an open field about 75 yards away. They scamper off into the brush and trees to avoid me. Once I get out on the highway I notice empty beer cans and cases strewn up and down the side of the road. There is money to be had if someone takes the time to scourer the shoulder in search of empties. I wonder to myself what is it that makes people toss their trash out of their cars and trucks alongside a beautiful windy highway in such stunning mountain country.

When I come back I build another fire, take a shower, and eat my dinner of Chicken Corn Chowder, Tim’s Potato Chips, and a Pink Lady apple. I wash dishes, clean the kitchen, and bring in more logs for the fire. It’s going to be a cold night.

I sit in the recliner in front of the fire and read Whole Life Transformation. I feel like I’ve already read this book at least 8-10 times. It reminds me of others I’ve read. They all sound the same. Pastor so and so comes to a crisis in his life and ministry. In a moment of desperation God meets him and he discovers a way out of his crisis and feels liberated and enlightened. He wonders how he could have lived in such darkness for so long. Suddenly everything at his church and in his ministry looks different. He begins to make changes, big changes. He goes about un-doing everything he worked so hard at building for the new philosophy and perspective he now wants to implement. In the process he either quits or gets fired. He starts a new ministry, writes a book about it, hits the conference trail, and tells the rest of us how we can discover what he has found. So far I haven’t read anything in Whole Life Transformation that I haven’t read somewhere else 2 or 3 times over. I ask myself why I am such a succor for books like these and wish I had saved my $17.95.

I grab the 3 by 5 card from my journal on which I wrote my most pressing prayer concerns for my life, family, and ministry. I sit next to the fire and quietly pray my way through each item. I pause and linger over some that seem to hold more gravity than the others, at least tonight. There are times when I feel like I have the whole world on my shoulders and all I can do is pray. The answers or solutions are beyond me but not God. I can’t heal cancer or reconcile broken marriages or make people want to want God or straighten out situations that have splintered or soften hardened hearts or bring deep, lasting comfort to those who grieve the loss of someone they loved or put my hands on enough money to pay for my children to attend college. Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy.

I turn out the lights and climb the stairs to go to go to bed. I read 2 more chapters of Mockingbird and fall asleep with the deep, abiding sense that it has been a good day and I am thankful to God to be alive and to live the life I live with the people and church I love in one of the most beautiful places I know on the face of the earth.

Solitude and Silence

Two weeks ago Ruth Haley Barton (no relation) spoke to our district pastors at Cannon Beach on solitude and silence. She talked about our (speaking to pastors) addiction to noise, words, people, and performance-oriented activity and our need for solitude and silence in order to give God our undivided attention. A number of her statements grabbed my attention, especially this one - "Truly the best thing any of us bring to leadership is the transformation of our own soul." God's work in others, she repeated, begins first in us.

Ruth Haley Barton helped me to see more clearly what God taught me in Prague and Paris last November - I am too busy, my life is too full, and I have neglected to spend quality time paying attention to the stirrings of my own soul. Numerous times Barton mentioned how the invasion of technology - in the form of email, the Internet, cell phones, and texting - adds to the challenge of slowing down long enough to hear the voice of God. Technology makes my life more complicated not simpler.

In solitude we pull away from absorption in human relationships in order to give God our undivided attention. Silence, according to Barton, deepens the experience of solitude, "In silence we not only withdraw from the demands of life in the company of others but also allow the noise of our own thoughts, strivings and compulsions to settle down so we can hear a truer and more reliable Voice." Solitude removes us from people and silence removes us from noise. Together they create space and time for intimacy with God and for the necessary work of transformation that only he can do.

In her book, Invitation To Solitude And Silence, Barton establishes the importance of a sacred space, that is, space set apart for God and God alone. First, physical space. This is a physical spot that is designated for time alone with God - a corner of the living room or a favorite chair in the family or bedroom or a special place outdoors. Second, sacred space is also a place in time set apart to give God our undivided attention. This is a time for resting in God, enjoying his company and allowing intimacy to deepen without any utilitarian purpose.

Since returning from the coast I have attempted to observe a consistent time of solitude and silence. Early morning works best for me. My daily rhythm is to come to my office around 6am. I read Scripture, pray, journal, and read. Into this long established practice I inserted 10 minutes of solitude and silence. I sit in a comfortable chair in my office, turn out the lights, and try to turn off all outer and inner distractions. I chose a simple prayer based upon Psalm 62 - "rest in God" - to help me focus my heart and attention. I dwell on the words as a way of seeking to draw closer to God. I try to calm down and shut off all my inner voices. I attempt to train the ears of my heart to listen for God's still, small voice. And I make it my aim to sink into God who surrounds me on every side, without and within.

Learning to sit still for 10 minutes in God's presence is difficult. I want to get up and do something to legitimize my existence. My mind races with the day's "to do" list. I feel like taking a nap. I want a drink of my coffee. I just thought of a "killer" idea for a sermon. I remember a phone call I forgot to make yesterday. And on it goes. But I stay at it, "rest in God, rest in God, rest in God." My goal, no matter what, is to stay faithful to the practice.

8 Reflections about Prague and Paris

I like to travel in part because of what it reminds me about God. I have been blessed to travel a bit in my life. I lived in the Philippines for almost one year during college and briefly stopped in Tokyo on the way over and have spent a few days in Hong Kong on three occasions. Ten years ago Heather and I spent five days in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with a group of pastors and spouses from our district. For our twenty-fifth anniversary in 2003 Heather and I took Hannah and Elizabeth and traveled to Europe for three weeks – France, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and back to France. The next year I took a high school senior from our church and went back to the Philippines to speak at a pastor’s conference in Cebu City where I lived during college. In 2006 I was privileged to go to Africa – Guinea and Sierra Leone – with a close friend on behalf of our church to visit people and ministries we support. Earlier this year I led a team of people from our church back to Guinea and Sierra Leone on a short-term mission. And finally, thanks to a travel voucher from our church for my 25^th anniversary as pastor, Heather and I traveled to Prague and Paris.

There are no geopolitical boundaries with God. He lives in Tokyo, Hong Kong, Cebu City, Puerto Vallarta, Paris, Haarlem, Mannheim, Basel, Rome, Florence, Conakry, Lungi, Freetown, and Prague as well as Dodge City, Boise, Regina, Canby, and Pasadena, places I have lived in North America. Travel never fails to remind me that God is bigger than my country and my culture. God transcends all human borderlines and nationalities.

I am amazed by how old things are in Europe and especially in Prague. The Old Town Square (above picture), which dates back to the late 12th century, started life as the central marketplace for Prague. Over the next few centuries many buildings of Romanesque, Baroque and Gothic styles were erected around the market and still stand today. Construction on The Church of Our Lady of Tyn, easy to identify by its spires which shoot up into the sky above the Square, began in 1365. The Church of St. Nicholas occupies a piece of land on the edge of the Square that has held a church since the 12^th century. The present church was completed in 1735. The Old Town Hall Tower, built in 1338, is one of the most striking buildings in Prague. We climbed the stairs on the inside of the tower to a lookout on top that gave us a breath-taking view of the city.

A few blocks from the Old Town Square is The Charles Bridge, a pedestrian only bridge commissioned by Charles IV in 1357. The Powder Gate, which formed one of thirteen entrances to Old Town, started to take shape when its foundation stone was laid in 1475. The streets and sidewalks in Prague are cobblestone. Who knows how long they have been there but when you walk them you sense that every stone cries out with some kind of history.

Prague felt quaint, old, charming, romantic and fairy tale-like. Compared to Paris, Prague is compact. You can easily walk from Wenceslas Square to the Old Town Square to the Jewish Quarter to the Prague Castle across the Vltava River and everywhere in between. Cobblestone streets and sidewalks, probably hundreds of years old, take you where you want to go. You pass through narrow, windy streets lined with shops, cafes, restaurants, and apartments. You encounter limited cars and traffic in the downtown core. From the Old Town Hall Tower your eyes are flooded with red tiled roofs in every direction you look spread out over Prague. The skyline is dotted with church spires. Tables and chairs from outdoor cafes and restaurants fill the sidewalks even on a chilly November evening (blankets are draped over chairs if you need one to wrap up in to stay warm). Prague has been called one of the most magical cities in the world and rightly so. It looks and feels medieval.

I felt a sense of spiritual darkness in Europe. First some statistics and then my comments. According to a 2001 Czech Republic census 59% of the people identify themselves as agnostic, atheist, or non-believer. The fastest growing group of people between 1991 and 2001 were those with no religion which increased by nearly 2 million people or 19.1%. Christianity, especially the Roman Catholic Church, showed negative growth in that same block of time and lost more than 1 million members. Only 19% of the Czech people believe there is a God which is the second lowest rate among the European Union countries. France fares a little better – only 31% of the population claim to be atheists. Of the 51% who describe themselves as Catholics only half of those claimed to believe in God.

As I walked the streets of Prague and Paris I asked myself what had happened to the souls of these people. They were spiritual beings just like me who were created in the image and likeness of God. By and large churches are no longer sacred spaces for worship but historical buildings, concert halls, and art galleries. I wondered if the people of Prague and Paris ever experienced spiritual longings, and if so, how did they identify them and what did they do with them. I wondered if they sometimes felt a need to pray out of gratitude or of a need for help. I questioned how they approached the birth of a new child, the miracle and mystery of new life entering the world. I pondered if they feared death and what they thought might lie on the other side.

One evening in Prague Heather and I walked into a Roman Catholic Church whose door we found unlocked which was rare. The church was cold and dark, a small church compared to others we had visited. The only lights shining lit up the altar area. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness I noticed an elderly lady off to the left front of the church kneeling and praying – finally, a church where someone was engaged in prayer and worship even if it was only one person.

I love the coffee in European cafes. I am no coffee connoisseur. I have never worked as a barista, roasted coffee, or attended a coffee tasting event. But I love a good, strong latte. The coffee I drank in local cafes in Prague and Paris was the best I have ever tasted – rick, dark, strong but smooth going down. No after taste or acidy residue.

I found a Starbucks in Prague and showed up early one morning for coffee – 7am by Prague time – and ordered a latte. I felt like I was in Portland. Everything looked the same. The latte tasted the same as in the States as well, you know, the usual Starbucks overly roasted burnt taste. Starbucks may have popularized espresso and good coffee in the States but it doesn’t hold a candle to what I enjoyed in Europe.

I noticed something else about coffee in Europe – it is served in a cup and saucer or in a glass mug instead of in a paper cup to go. Coffee is meant to be sipped, enjoyed, lingered over, and shared with a close friend. No hurry, no rush to get in and out. Coffee is not just a drink but an experience and I liked that.

The majority of people in Europe seem to smoke. Lots of people in Europe smoke – men, women, young, old, sophisticated, and simple. Finding a non-smoking restaurant in Prague was a challenge. One night in a nice Czech restaurant we asked for non-smoking. The host led us to a fairly large room in the rear of the restaurant designated for non-smoking. Five minutes after we were seated a group of people took a table on the other side of the room and began to smoke. Soon after others in the room followed. Our non-smoking sanctuary was filled with smoke. I think all of Europe must be dying of lung cancer.

My wife knows how to read a map. I am pretty good at directions as long as I know which way is north, south, east, and west. But put me in a strange city, hand me a map I have never seen before, and tell me to find my way to such-and-such a place and I am instantly in trouble. It does me no good to try to bluff my way around the map or the city – I have tried and it does not work. Often the longer I stare down at the map the more confused I become. My wife is just the opposite. She loves maps. In fact, her eyes light up at the sight of a map.

One night in Paris she used three maps to help us find our way to the neighborhood apartment where Ernest Hemingway first lived in 1921. I was amazed, I still am, and I still might be looking for Hemingway’s apartment if not for the map expertise of Heather.

Flying economy means feeling squished for a long time. 10 hours from Portland to Amsterdam. 8 hours from Paris to New York City. 5 1/2 hours from New York City to Portland (add another 90 minutes which is what happened to us in New York City when we sat in the plane for this long before it finally took off). I fought envy on every flight when I walked through the first-class section – the wide, comfortable, leather-bound seats, the large arm rests with beverage holders, the comfy head rests, and the ample leg room (did I mention the leg room?!).

On our flight from Paris to New York City I sat between Heather and a man from Toronto who was flying home after visiting his family in Egypt. I wouldn’t say he was over-weight but he was certainly stocky and filled his seat. He slept most of the flight (this filled me with envy also). Sometimes in his sleep he would shift over toward me, take the whole arm rest and crowd my side of the seat. My already space living quarters shrunk depending upon how he moved and shifted in his sleep.

Flight space did not improve on the last leg home from New York City to Portland. This time my seat mates were Heather and a young man who looked big enough to be a college football player, probably a fullback or a linebacker. He didn’t fall asleep or shift over to my side but he filled up every square inch of his seat and in doing so made my space seem smaller, especially as the flight wore on.

The flights home from Europe are the closest I have ever been to feeling claustrophobic. I don’t want to see the inside of a plane for a long time. I think there should be law against making people sit in the economy section during international flights!

The power of a sentence

As I look back over they years there are a number of sentences that have had a huge influence upon my life. No doubt, books have made a significant impact upon me. But what made the books influential were the sentence or two within its covers that tattooed themselves upon my mind or heart or soul.

Here is a sampling of sentences from my favorite books and writers used by the Spirit of God to bring about transformation in my life. Although I could write pages about each sentence I will let them stand on their own for your reading and pondering.

"But there is such a thing as rising early for the love of God." (Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, p. 44)

"Beyond all and in all is God." (Pursuing the Monk's Life by Thomas Merton, July 17, 1956)

"Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." (Now and Then by Frederick Buechner, p. 87)

"For it is not mere words that nourish the soul, but God Himself, and unless and until the hearers find God in personal experience they are not the better for having heard the truth. The Bible is not an end in itself, but a means to bring men to an intimate and satisfying knowledge of God, that they may enter into Him, that they may delight in His Presence, may taste and know the inner sweetness of the very God Himself in the core and center of their hearts." (The Pursuit of God by A. W. Tozer, p. 9-10)

"for Christ plays in ten thousand places,

Lovely in limbs, and lovely in eyes not his

To the Father through the features of men's faces."

(Poems and Prose by Gerard Manley Hopkins, p. 51)

"God and passion. That is why I was a pastor, that is why I had come to this place: to live in the presence of God, to live with passion - and to gather others into the presence of God, introducing them into the possibilities of a passionate life." (Under the Unpredictable Plant by Eugene H. Peterson, p. 45)

"The whole purpose for which we exist is to be thus taken into the life of God." (Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis, p. 161)

"We are like sponges trying to mop up the ocean. We can never know God exhaustively. We can never picture God or imagine him. Either we make him too small, and we strain at that, or we make him too big, and he strains us. We have not got to invent God, nor to hold him. He holds us. I want you to hold very clearly the otherness of God, and the littleness of men. If you don't get that you can't have adoration, and you cannot have religion without adoration. I know more and more how small I am, how great God is." (Letters to a Niece by Baron Fredrich von Hugel, p. 24)

That's a start. I could go on and on. Enjoy!

25 Years

This past Sunday marked my twenty-fifth anniversary at Canby Alliance Church. I preached my first sermon on the last Sunday of July, 1985. I was twenty-nine years old at the time, married for nearly seven years, and newly graduated from Fuller Theological Seminary with a Master of Divinity degree. I learned first-hand from two of the elders soon after my arrival that they didn't vote for my coming because they thought I was too young and couldn't do the job. I came without knowing what I was going to be paid. I still remember the jest of my first sermon - quit talking behind each other's backs; if you have something to say to me, say it to my face; it's time to forgive one another and heal from the past.

Why those words? The previous two pastors had been asked to leave. Though the first one had been dismissed six years earlier there was still some residual pain lingering in some. The second dismissal was still fresh in everyone's mind and heart. There were the usual differences of opinion about his leaving - some thought it was right and others felt it was wrong or hadn't been handled right. The church body was divided. Mistrust had crept in. Some people had left the church and others were sitting on the fence. Many people were hurting. In retrospect, I had no idea what I was getting into. But God was more than gracious to this young pastor and the congregation he had been called to lead.

On that warm Sunday in July twenty-five years ago I never dreamed that I would still be here in 2010. That seemed like an eternity away back then. My vision for the church in those first months was pretty simple - the church needs to heal, people need to learn to trust each other again, we need to find our unity in Christ, and we can get through this if we choose, under God, to get through this together.

One of my goals for my first year of ministry was to visit every church family in their home. Part of my reason for visitation was to ask everyone how they were dealing with the past and how I could help them move on. Those visits taught me a lot about the church and the hurts, fears, and hopes that people carried. Time after time I realized after leaving a home that these people were good people, had tons of potential, and just needed someone to love and lead them.

One thing I clearly see now as I look back over the past twenty-five years is this - I believe God placed a love in my heart for these people. I didn't have to make it happen. I didn't have to pray for it. I didn't have to work at it. No matter how good or hard the times were, the love I felt in my heart for the church never waned. Even in my darkest moment ten years ago when I was swallowed by a season of depression, once I swept away the clouds I came face-to-face with this love. I can't separate this sense of love from my calling to Canby Alliance Church. The two go hand-in-hand together.

Monk for a Day

I woke up earlier than usual. I was excited because I had scheduled a day room - St. Michael's - at Our Lady of Guadalupe Trappist Abbey near Lafayette, about a 45 minute drive from Canby. The Abbey is one of my favorite places. For a couple of weeks my soul had been telling me I needed rest, some monastic solitude and silence. I pulled into the Dutch Brother's in Newberg before 6am and ordered a latte. I switched on the light in my day room twenty minutes later and turned up the heat. I laid out my Bible, journal, pens, and books on the desk.

I headed for the microwave in the Guest House kitchen to warm up my coffee. Brother Martin was busy making morning coffee for the overnight guests. "Good morning, brother. Are you still over in, what is that, Canby?" "Yes" I told him. "I haven't seen you for a while" he uttered. I replied, "Yea, it's been a long time since I've been here. You've got a good memory." Brother Martin smiled at me and pointed at his head, "Sometimes it works." He went about his business and I went about mine.

I walked outside to look up at the night sky. The morning sun was rising sooner than I expected. The sky was no longer black but a dark blue. A few stars were still shining, twinkling in the cool morning air. I stood still, closed my eyes, and tried to take in the silence. Renewal was already starting.

I opened my journal and started writing. My mind felt like it was in slow gear. Next I began my Bible reading out of Eugene Peterson's The Message Psalm 90-94 and then Luke 19-24. Next I grabbed my ESV Study Bible that I lugged along (it must weigh 25 lbs!) and turned to my sermon passage for Sunday - John 2:1-11, Jesus turning the water into wine. I carefully read the introduction to John's gospel and then the study notes for the passage. One thing led to another. Before long I was jumping all over the Old Testament and the New Testament tracing what the Bible said about the use of wine. Drunkenness is out but "joy" is in - joy is sometimes linked to wine in the Scriptures. I took some careful notes about the 7 signs in John's gospel of which Jesus turning the water into wine is the first.

Next I opened my journal and wrote out my prayers for the day. First, family concerns and then CAC people matters I feel called to pray for. Lately about the only way I can privately pray is by writing out my prayers, a number of journals of them since early this year. I seldom pace up and down in a room and pray out loud like I did for years. It doesn't work anymore so I only occasionally try it.

Next I went outside and walked down the Abbey road to the main highway. I wanted to feel the warm sunshine against my face. I wanted to hear singing birds. As I walked I looked down and saw a black, rust colored furry caterpillar walking across the road in front of me. I put my Nike running shoe in its path to see what it would do. The caterpillar crawled over the toe of my shoe and kept going.

Next I came back to the room and laid down and took a twenty minute nap that felt more like a couple of hours. It was just what I needed.

Next I made a quick diversionary trip to the Abbey bookstore, looked over both old and new titles, and got away without buying anything, somewhat of a miracle.!

Next I grabbed my copy of Godric by Frederick Buechner and my journal and found a quiet corner of the Abbey church to read and pray. I silently prayed through the prayer I wrote earlier that morning. I paused over names and situations that weighed upon my heart. I sought to give those prayers an extra push into heaven. Then I read a couple of chapters in my favorite Buechner novel. This is my third or fourth time to read Godric and each time seems more amazing than the time before.

Next I set off on my favorite hike on the Abbey grounds. By now it was noon. The warm sun was high over head and would push the mercury to 80 degrees. I looked up at a cloudless blue sky. I slowly made my way to the monk's picnic area located in the woods behind the monastery. I walked through the baseball field up into the tall, swaying fir trees that guarded the monk's volleyball and basketball courts, fire pit, and covered eating shelter. Think really simple and really primitive. Grass, dirt, ground cover for the courts. The eating shelter looks like its been there for fifty years, simply made out of leftover wood and materials. I have offered up many prayers here over the years as I've paced back and forth under the majestic fir trees that rise up into the sky to form an outdoor sanctuary for meeting God. I found a sunny spot, looked up into the sun, and closed my eyes - flies buzzing, birds singing, the faint sound of a distant combine.

I took a different trail back to the monastery, one that led me down a windy path next to a dried up creek bed. I heard branches snapping. I stopped and looked around. There across the path from me and standing about twenty feet up the hill was a deer, a doe, eating leaves off a bush of some kind. I expected her to bolt but she didn't. I talked to her. She looked straight at me. We stared each other down. And then she put her head down and continued to eat. She must have surmised that I wasn't a threat to her safety or lunch.

Next I went back to my room and grabbed my journal, Godric, and a new book, Regi Campbell's Mentor Like Jesus. I found a shady spot next to the big pond behind the Guest House. I opened

up Campbell and began to read. Every so often I heard water splashing so I looked down at the water's edge and spotted a large bullfrog. He was sitting in the water with the top of his head above the surface next to a tree stump. Dragon flies were flying around the stump. Occasionally one would light upon the stump or swoop down and touch the water. The bullfrog crouched still and when the time was right he lunged at the dragon fly and snapped it up. Once I happened to glance down at the right time and saw the bullfrog leap out of the water, catch a dragon fly in its mouth, and land at least twelve inches from where he started. Another time the bullfrog leaped completely over one branch of the tree stump. This was the first time I had ever been entertained by a bullfrog and dragon flies. The show was fascinating to watch and got in the way of my reading.

Next I went back up to my room, packed up, and headed out the door for home. The day was just what I needed. The weather could not have been nicer. The entertainment (caterpillar, deer, bullfrog, and dragon files) was awesome. And I caught up with my soul in a much-needed manner over the course of the 7 1/2 hours I spent at the Abbey. Thanks be to God!

Europe

Heather and I are going to Europe in November thanks to the travel voucher the church gave us this summer in recognition of my 25th anniversary at Canby Alliance Church. We are set to leave on November 4th to visit Prague and Paris.

Our first stop is going to be Prague in the Czech Republic. We were first attracted to Prague because of its reasonable prices (Europe can be very expensive). Over the past two months we have discovered that a number of people we know have visited Prague and highly recommend it. Prague escaped heavy bombing during World War II. Therefore its city center has the charming feel of an old world city. We are going to stay in a family-run hotel just a couple of blocks from the Old Town Square. Our plan is to put our feet to work and walk to as many places as we can on Prague's cobblestone streets. Most of the tourist sights can be found in a two square mile area.

After six days in Prague we are going to fly to Paris for four days. We will be staying in a fairly small hotel in the St. Germain des Pres section of the Latin Quarter. I stayed here four years ago on the way back from Africa. The hotel is located close to a number of famous cafes including one Ernest Hemingway frequented and helped put on the map in the 1920s. The oldest church in Paris, L'Lglise Saint-Germain des Pres, first completed in 558 and enlarged in 1163, is just around the corner. What I remember most about this area are the open markets, bakeries, cafes, and restaurants within just a block or two of the hotel.

We have limited ourselves to only visit two cities. The main reason for the trip is time together and time to rest. While we plan to do some sight-seeing we are going to carve out large chunks of time for reading, relaxation, and simply being together enjoying a nice meal, a good cup of European coffee, or a long walk exploring part of Prague or Paris.

We are overwhelmed with gratitude for the church's generosity and love. And we can hardly wait for November 4th to roll around!