Great Expectations...

I've been admitted to do postgraduate work at Edinburgh University starting fall 2006. This is beyond my wildest dreams. Edinburgh has always been among my top two choices (Cambridge, being the other) for postgraduate studies. It has always been my desire to study under Prof. Larry Hurtado-- he is an expert in the field of NT, a prolific writer, an authority in my area of interest, and has a high view of Christology. When the university offered me a place, they also assigned Hurtado as my primary supervisor! It is hard for me to contain my excitement. Career/academic aspirations aside, I am thrilled at the prospect of a change in scenery, as well as the opportunity to live and travel in Europe!

Following Jesus' leading one small step at a time has been a gruelling experience... It's hard to keep your head up when you can only see a few steps at a time. In times of difficulty it is also easy to question if one's calling is even actually from God. Even at this stage I can only see ahead a few steps further but I have been shown so much grace and assurance that I would be a complete fool to stop following now. Lead on. Lead on.

What the. So Random.

On Tuesday I was feeling bored so I went down to 4th avenue to pass some time. 4th avenue is a great street to be if you are bored because there are so many young people there. There are many different restaurants there, as well as all kinds of shops, from citrus brand boutiques and antique stores to frisbee retailers to comic book shops. 4th avenue is fairly close to the beach and there is just this undeniable feeling of youthfulness and vibrancy to the strip.

I wouldn't exactly call myself a comic book aficionado but a good friend of mine who is one has been gradually exposing me to the art form. I left the Comic Book Shop with a copy of John Wagner & Vince Locke's "A History of Violence", and as I crossed the street I couldn't help but notice a sign that filled me with curiousity. "FREE ECCW Pro Wrestling Tonight. 5:00PM" And next to this instriguing sign, another: "EXTRAS: Line up at 4:50PM" I did the only thing any self-respecting citizen with nothing planned and no one to do it with would do. I got in line.





In short, I became an extra in a mockumentary about Pro Wrestling (see http://www.kayfabeentertainment.com/). To my relief my involvement did not include any wrestling of my own but I did get to be a spectator in the first row. My responsibilities included cheering for the good guys, booing the bad guys, and looking confused at the obviously stupid characters (i.e. Robota, a short guy in a silver jump suit and mask that wrestles like a robot; Tomahawk Jacques, a White Francophone Canadian who is dressed up as an indian and taunts the audience with an incomprehensible french accent) As if all this was not bizarre enough, the wrestling match took place inside a church, and so one of the actors was a priest who disapprovingly paced up and down the back aisles. I've never watched live wrestling and I must say the experience was very entertaining. Would I do it again? Probably not. But I'm glad I did it. How many times in your life do you get to watch "Rocket Randy Tyler" take on "Tomahawk Jacques" in a Royal Rumble for the heavy weight title inside a Catholic sanctuary. Probably never.

A lesson from Rain

I emerged from the music store where I work after closing to find it raining outside. It had been raining all day and now at quarter to nine it was still coming down hard. It is on days like these that the pretty girls stay inside and your car windows fog up. I also have these intolerable windshield wipers that do a lot more squeaking than wiping. Almost nobody likes the rain, but it is the price you pay if you want to live in Vancouver. So, here I was, standing under the shelter of the store awning and contemplating the best strategy to get to my car without being utterly drenched, when Scott, my coworker, also stepped out of the store. He drew in a deep breath and sighed with satisfaction.

"I love the rain," he said.

I looked at him, incredulous that anyone could say such a thing.

He continued, "I love how the rain makes everything smell so fresh. In places like the praries or in Alberta where it doesn't rain for a long time there is a lot of build up of dirt and grime. But here, everything is so clean because the rain washes it all away- the salts that are on the ground, the dust and the pollution. The rain keeps the place clean. The rain also keeps everything green. That's why everything is so green around here."

It then struck me that the very thing that people hate about Vancouver, the constant rain, is what makes the place so beautiful. What people find to be insufferable is also inseparable from what they love. What irony. Maybe life's like that. Perhaps even the very things that cause us grief, consternation, and pain are somehow not without meaning, but, in some paradoxical way, necessary to keep the whole thing together. I don't mean "just look for the good in the bad" but what if what we see as "bad" is just part of the package? Part and parcel to the marvel of being alive?

After saying goodbye to Scott, I picked up an old "Georgia Strait" for shelter and ran across the street to my car, wondering if he knew what a valuable lesson I had been taught.