* not with ink

On Monday night, I will be driving down to Hamilton to celebrate the launch of a new book from Tyndale House Publishing: A Year of Living Prayerfully . I cannot tell you how excited I am to read this book. Or more accurately, to re-read this book. You see, a few years back, my friend Jared asked me for a favour - would I help him edit a book excerpt for a book that didn't yet exist? He was prepping material for a literary agent, and wanted a pair of eyes to help him send the best possible material. I, of course, said yes. I love reading, I love editing, and I love my friend Jay. The chapter he sent me was crazy. It was fun, it was lively, it was thought-provoking. I wasn't the only one who loved it - the literary agent signed him, and then they approached several major Christian publishing houses, and you already know how this ends: Tyndale signed him. So he asked me for another favour. Would I be a pair of eyes for the full manuscript? Yes. Of course, yes. Su

For the majority of Christians around the world, it is now Lent - a season observed as we approach Easter. Though Lent has been a part of the Christian calendar for over a thousand years, it is a relatively new practice for me. So when I was asked to preach on Ash Wednesday, I was both excited and a bit nervous. On Ash Wednesday, many Christians are marked with ashes on their foreheads, and the words, "Remember you are dust, and to dust you will return," are spoken over them.    Encouraging, right?    Here's what I shared - drawing on the texts of Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 , Psalm 103:8-18 , Matthew 6:1-6,16-21 , and Psalm 51 . I went to university in my hometown, and though I lived on my own, I often borrowed my parents’ vehicle. On one particular occasion,  I borrowed it to renew my passport in a nearby town. My roommate went with me, and we had a great drive - until we got to the parking lot. It was tiny, and I was driving an 8 passenger Safari van. But I had learne

The following is an email from my friend Alasdair, which I have cut and paste verbatim, and added a few comments of my own. This is a case of mi casa es su casa  or, more accurately, his invite is my invite - so please, join us!!!! Good morrow. The time of February is once again upon us, and for Beth and I, that means we exchange music. Most of you on this list were are part of it last year, but I've taken the liberty of adding a few more of my friends, and for those who don't know (or will be added later and want to know ) the basic story is thus: Beth and I are transatlantic friends (We WERE transatlantic friends, but Alasdair has now moved to Vancouver and we are cross-country friends. Also, I would like to share this fact about our friendship: apart from the week we first met, we have hung out in person precisely twice. TWICE! In eight years. I applaud our long-distance skillz.) As friends do, we share music. This started back in 2009 with CDs via airmail ( CDs!

I didn't mean to disappear for almost a month. Honest. I thought that life might slow down a bit once the wedding was over, and in some ways it has. But in mostly every way, life is still life. And it keeps on happening. Friends have babies. Loved ones die. Your husband is grouchy one evening and says he doesn't feel well, shivering by the time you go to bed, and unable to get out of bed or speak in the morning. It's the flu. The actual flu. The lingering flu that takes something like 14 days to fully get out of your system. So you spend the weekend caring for him. And on Saturday evening you're not feeling so peachy yourself, so you cancel all plans and sleep something like 14 hours, and by Monday you're okay-ish, and grateful that the flu didn't hit you like it hit him, and you carry on with your week, and push through the sniffles and scratchy throat because you can. And you go to the spa because you have friends that are awesome like that, and you brea