I take my inability to sit down and write things out here to be a good thing mostly. It means that I'm staying busy and doing good things and spending time with quality people doing quality stuff. So, as much as it saddens me that I haven't written much of consequence here lately, there have been many moments of consequence that have happened without being recorded.

Tomorrow I sing in church. First time to do that in an awful long time.

Monday is my last official day of classes. After that it's exams and a lot of paperwork to complete.

I have a sermon-of-sorts to prepare for next Sunday. I've had a couple of thoughts, but I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go with it.

I've almost finished Till We Have Faces. There's so much of the book that I don't remember. That's always both a good and bad thing: bad because you should remember, good because it reads fresh.

A few days ago I started listening to Jordan Seng's sermons in chronological order dating back to 2005. I'm pretty pumped about it. I'm already about six sermons in, and I am definitely learning to see things well.

God is good and I am blessed in spite of myself. He is worthy of great praise!

Sometimes I think I have it all backwards. . . I spent most of my week hanging out: ball games, school stuff, and the like. Weekend comes and it's like solitude! Either way, it was a really good week with lots of fun moments both in and out of the classroom.

Saturday and Sunday were good housekeeping days. Washed clothes. Washed dishes. Went to the grocery store. Caught up on The Office and Grey's Anatomy. Caught some other first-run television. Spent Sunday night doing some mini-marathon grading. Went to church at St. Andrew's and then Sunday school at the regular house of worship. Listened to an old Nite-Life sermon that I downloaded a number of weeks ago about joy (and why Jesus wept at the death of Lazarus). And I swam. Doing a good bit of swimming these days, usually just after getting home from school or mid-afternoon on the weekend. Got to get in better shape, and the gym just isn't as convenient as the nice pool downstairs.

I've entered into my last full week of classes, and that has me getting all philosophical and reflective. I have a "ditty" of a "sermon" to flesh out for a couple of Sundays from now. Grades to do. Things to write. Things to keep clean. Things to order and things to trash. Elections to run and ballots to count. The days, as Calvin said, are just packed.

Got the latest issue of TIME magazine today (still waiting for the new EW). This week the magazine shared its "Top 100 Influential People in the World" list. Lists are always interesting, especially those that cross a range of subject areas. As I often do, worked backwards through the magazine. Most of the names I didn't recognize too much. That's a good thing: such an issue reminds us that there's such a large world out there. I knew Richard Branson and the YouTube guys. Steve Jobs. DiCaprio. I've been meaning to read a book by David Mitchell ever since I read about Black Swan Green but just haven't gotten around to it.

I knew most of the entertainers. The scientists and thinkers not so much. Al Gore, sure. Richard Dawkins: yes. Found it interesting that his "entry" was written by Michael Behe, who wrote Darwin's Black Box and who, I believe, spoke at Union back in the day. Then the blurb on Lisa Randall caught my eye. She's one of those physicists that believes there are more dimensions out there than we can perceive, which I think is one of the coolest theories out there (along the lines of string theory, I suppose). A "3-D sinkhole in a higher-dimensional universe" indeed. I knew some of the heroes and pioneers, but I'm kind of ashamed that I didn't know more. Guess that's what such a magazine is for.

Speaking of magazines, got into a fun discussion with the school librarian and another friend about "getting rid of" the print copy of National Geographic Magazine. I've never been a full-on fan of the magazine, but it did keep me occupied while waiting to get my haircut down at Tex's Barber Shop in Springfield (nothing like a hot-lather and razor on the back of the neck). So, with my friend, I defended the need to have the hard copy. Digital isn't everything. And it surely isn't the only thing. That's part of why I like getting TIME in the mail everyweek. Something to hold onto.

I've noticed that I pretty much have three musical moods these days. One of them is when I really need a touch of Nashville and a faith that is stripped down and human (with a hint of transcendant). That's when I listen to various members of the Square Peg Alliance: Andrew Osenga, Jill Phillips, Andy Gullahorn and Andrew Peterson mostly (lots of Andrews there). When I want transcendance with a hint of earthiness, I turn to my U2 collection.

These last couple of days I've been in a Josh Joplin Group mood. The JJG isn't a band of any great renown, I am sad to say. I came across them back in Fort Worth when their song "Gravity" got played on the alternative rock channel there. I bought Useful Music and really enjoyed it. Then, soon after, they released another album, The Future That Was, which might clock in as one of my favorite albums ever (at least in the top 20). None of the songs on that album got any serious radio airplay (that I know of). I was almost a year late in buying the follow-up, credited mostly to Josh Joplin alone. Jaywalkers is a good album: reminds me a bit of the writing of Walker Percy- rooted in the South, existential and struggling to defeat abstraction.

I joke with some of my students that maybe I've hit that place where I don't "get into" a lot of the new music that is out there. That's sort of true. I do like Linkin Park's new song. And a few students are surprised that I know hellogoodbye or can hum some Red Hot Chili Peppers. For the most part, though, I'm pretty happy with my musical moods. Throw in some old Remy Zero and some Caedmon's and a little CCM and I'll do fine.

And I am not the only boxer
That hasn't words to write
And I am not the only poet
Who's much too scared to fight
Wake me up
Take me out
Call me down
When I'm in doubt
And I'm in doubt every day
-"I am not the only Cowboy"

Today was a good day. Not perfect, mind you, but pretty good regardless.

I’ve put the Yiddish Policemen’s Union to the side so I can reread C. S. Lewis’s Till We Have Faces. I’ve been thinking about the book for a couple of weeks now. Seems I’ve agreed to speak at an end-of-the-year gathering for the graduates. Something that one of the characters in the book says reminds me a lot of where these students are at. So I finally decided to reread the whole thing. It’s interesting to see Lewis’s “theology of longing” show up in different places. It all seems to go back to his essay, “The Weight of Glory,” really. The book is a reminder to me that sometimes (most all of the times) the truths of the Gospel are caught best in story.

Speaking of the Gospel, I had opportunity to head out to First Pres last night, where the pastor spoke on “Things I Don’t Know (and won’t fake).” The sermon, the first in a series, was about “who gets into heaven.” Hearing Seng speak is a bit like cleansing the spiritual palate for me. It’s refreshing that there is a possibility for mystery in faith. We could all do with a little more mystery, I believe.

The TV season is slowly winding down. The Amazing Race wrapped up last night with a decent final challenge. 24 is winding down (or winding up?). The next few weeks will bring a lot of finales, which is good. If only I could catch up on my LOST.

“That Greek there is your slave because in some battle he threw down his arms and let them bind his hands and lead him away and sell him, rather than take a spear-thrust in his heart. Much less does it give them understanding of holy things. They demand to see such things clearly, as if the gods were no more than letters written in a book. I, King, have dealt with the gods for three generations of men, and I know that they dazzle our eyes and flow in and out of one another like eddies on a river, and nothing that is said clearly can be said truly about them. Holy places are dark places. It is life and strength, not knowledge and words, that we get in them. Holy wisdom is not clear and thin like water, but thick and dark like blood.”

The Priest in Till We Have Faces