Christian George

Bryan Gill is a great writer and a good friend. We studied together at Beeson Divinity School. Here is the interview he conducted earlier this week. You can also find it at Bryan’s blog: http://bryan-bigdreams.blogspot.com/2009/06/big-dreamin-with-christian-george-part.html

Named after the main character in John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian George lives out his own perpetual pilgrimage with his Crocs and his Mac. Having not reached age thirty, Christian is as well traveled as a seasoned flight attendant. He usually treks to historic sites where monks, reformers, and martyrs trod. His Crocs have been filled with the same dirt that dusted the thonged sandals of Church icons such as the Apostle Paul, St. Augustine, John Calvin, Martin Luther, Charles Spurgeon, Jonathan Edwards, and Dietrict Bonhoeffer—to name a few.

However, Christian doesn’t travel in vain. He wears out the keyboard of his Mac writing about his pilgrimage and has six books to his name. He said, “Every one of us is on a journey. We might not recognize it, but nothing in life is truly static.” In an rapidly-moving world the question echoes a Dave Matthew’s song, “Where are you going?” “So the question is not if we are traveling. The question becomes, what are we traveling towards?” George said. As a vital part of the Christian experience, he believes that the pilgrimage is “an outward practice that reflects an upward reality—that we are on a journey to God.”

Christian intertwines his writings with personal pilgrimage stories and powerful metaphors and then soaks them in a bucket of theology. He likes dancing the tightrope between edginess and Sunday morning church. For instance, his favorite book that he’s authored is entitled, Sex, Sushi, & Salvation. He added that explaining how these three things fit together wasn’t easy.

George’s most recent book, Godology: Because Knowing God Changes Everything (Moody Publications), is about getting to know God personally. “Each chapter contains an attribute of God, a spiritual discipline, and a practical way to express your faith,” said George. Godology is for people interested in diving in head first to explore a “bottomless God.” George said, “This book is about going deeper–exchanging a casual faith for a crucial one.”

I asked Christian, “What do you want people to say about Christian George after they read one of your books?” He quoted John the Baptist, “I must decrease, Christ must increase.” And then replied, “I would hope my readers get a bigger view of Christ when they put down my book instead of a bigger view of me.”

Christian and his wife, Rebecca, live in St. Andrews, Scotland where he adds that “it is quite a cold place to be in the winter, it turns out.” He is currently working on a dissertation on Charles Spurgeon, “And a few other things,” he adds. For Christian George to say, “and a few other things,” means that readers can be expecting some BIG “other things” in the future.

When he is finished with his PhD work, he plans to continue writing, preaching, and teaching. This guy is the real deal, folks. His writings will touch your heart and stimulate your brain. Check him out and buy one or six of his books. I’ve read two but he cranks them out so fast I can’t keep up.

Quick Hitters about Christian George:

1. What do most people not know about you?

You know that thing in the back of your throat that hangs down?  Yeah, so I don’t have one.

2. What is playing in your ipod right now?

Miles Davis, Jack Johnson, John Piper podcasts, Ingrid Michaelson, George Gershwin, Louis Armstrong.

3. How does Christian George relax?

With a playstation controller in my hand.

4. Favorite ice cream flavor?

Rocky Road.  More rocky than road, please.

5. Favorite Starbucks drink?

Anything tea.  Green, Passion, Chai.  Doesn’t matter.  Just as long as it has caffeine.

6. Favorite novel?

Currently enjoying John Grisham’s, The Firm.  Man, that guy can tell a story.

7. Who are your heroes?

My dad is my greatest hero.  Most kids grow up and see their fathers as equals or something.  Not me.  I still look at him through the eyes of a five year old who thinks his dad can take on the world.  Also my grandfather.  Against the odds, and against much criticism, he built an airplane from scratch and went on to win dozens of aerobatic competitions.

8. Favorite author/s?

I read a lot of dead people.  I guess that sounds kind of creepy, but they seem to have better things to say, and can say them better. Of course, my all time favorite Christian author is Charles Haddon Spurgeon (1834-1892, London Pastor).  Not to endorse public nudity or anything, but I’d trade the very clothes off my back for a good copy of “All of Grace.”

9. When was the last time you thought, “I’m living the dream”?

Blue Bayou Waterpark, Baton Rouge, Louisiana.  Going down a freakishly tall slide and falling off my raft half way down.

10. In the entire world, where is your favorite place to watch the sunset?

There’s a little restaurant in Assisi, Italy that has four or five tables spread out across a small balcony patio.  It overlooks the medieval part of the city, and from that view you can see that not much has changed in a thousand years.  From your table, your eyes can stretch all the way to the horizon without hindrance.  Across wheat-laced fields and flowers that in the summertime put off a soft yellow sheen.  And at sunset, everything just stops:  Clocks.  Deadlines.  Meetings.  There are no more hassles, train tickets, or writing projects to worry about.  No more rushing from one Italian city to the next.  No more subway systems or art museums.  All your activities of the day are over.  At last, you can finally stop doing and start being.  And then there’s the moment–that perfect, timeless, Italian moment when the sun disappears out of sight.  And whenever I sit there, I suppose it makes me think that humans were created for moments like that.  

Since I can’t afford my own Brookstone vibrating massage chair, I often go to the mall to use theirs. It’s a shameless way to spend a Saturday, but the payoff is huge. One day as waves of glory saturated my shoulders, a young girl approached the chair. She waited for her turn and gave me some serious eye attitude. I pretended not to see her as mechanical fingers kneaded my grateful gluts.

“Ahem!” she muttered.

Normally I would be a gentleman and surrender such a seat, but suddenly the chair switched gears and started working my calves. I was like, “Thank you, Jesus!” It was a heavenly moment and I wasn’t about to come down to earth. Two minutes later, the whiny girl was dragged away by her mom, but not without leaving me with a preadolescent glare of death.

Our culture tells us to take care of our bodies. We feed them, massage them, shave them, and bathe them. We don’t think twice about dropping a hundred bucks here and there on whatever makes us feel good. Being raised in Alabama, I know that if there’s one thing we do right down here, it’s eat. I’m talking cornbread with buttermilk, fried okra, cole slaw, mashed potatoes and of course, some good ole fashion southern barbeque. Mercy.

But what about our souls? Our stomachs are full, but our souls are starving. Jesus said, “It takes more than bread to really live” (Luke 4:4). It takes discipline. It takes a desire to burn off spiritual cellulite and feast on the energizing presence of God.

My generation is on the verge of an awakening. We are trading a kiddy pool Christianity for the deep things of God. We are wading out of the creeks and into the depths. No more treading water. With scuba tanks and weight belts, we are plunging into the Scriptures to find treasure beyond imagination. It takes a radical faith to plumb a bottomless God. And we are ready for the odyssey.

Joe Church, a missionary to Africa, said, “Revival is not when the roof blows off, but when the bottom falls out.” The bottom is falling out beneath ordinary people across America—college students, artists, nurses, waiters, writers, singers, computer programmers. In offices everywhere, Christ is pulling the fire alarm of our hearts and ushering us to worship. He’s raising up a generation who’s trading a casual faith for a crucial one. Our old platforms are crashing away and we’re falling into the invisible arms of the Almighty.

Before I wrote this book, I googled God. Turns out, there are five hundred and sixty-four million results. As I waded through the first page, I came to the conclusion that everyone has an opinion about God—Buddhists, Hippies, and Jews alike. This world is full of people who think, talk, and write about Him. From the animal-worshipping tribesman to the humming monk in Asia. Even amazon.com listed half a million books in print on the subject. So do we really need another book about God?

Yes. My generation needs a book that takes us deeper. J. I. Packer once said that Christianity in America is three thousand miles wide and one inch deep. But it’s time to start the back-ho–bone marrow awaits! Paul wrote, “Ignorance of God is a luxury you can’t afford in times like these” (I Corinthians 15:34). And in these times we are bobbing for questions: Is God as big as He says He is? Was Christ really tempted to sin? What about that Trinity thing? How can three persons be one at the same time?

A. W. Tozer said, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.”1 In a world created by God, sustained by God and renewed by God nothing is more important than knowing God. I wrote this book to Wal-Mart God so every one of us, no matter where we live or what we do, can understand His 24/7 salvation. My generation is spiritually malnourished and it’s no wonder seventy-percent of us stop going to church our first year of college.

But we are ready for a revolution. It only takes a spark to ignite a country and God is pouring diesel on His people. He is showering a grass roots movement with sprinklers of grace. We’re finding that God is not as calm or tame as we thought. He bursts from the Tupperware we seal Him. He’s on the move. He’s calling us to wipe off our spiritual milk mustaches, exchange earthly habits for holy habits and gorge ourselves on the nourishing Bread of Life.

Since Christianity is an upward, inward, and outward faith, each chapter in this book contains a mystery about God, a spiritual discipline and a practical expression of that truth for the world. This is not an exhaustive discussion of His characteristics—who can really inventory the Eternal? Rather, Godology is my feeble attempt to Map Quest God for a new generation.

Challenge this book! Don’t take my word for it. Hold it up to the light of the Bible and see if God is as great as you think He might be. This isn’t a safe read, but then again, God isn’t a safe God. So exchange your rake for a shovel and let’s see what lies beneath the surface.

“There’s nothing worse than catatonic Christians standing still in a world of falling people.”

I pull this quote from Godology because it’s something I’ve been thinking about lately.

I think Christianity has three major components. There’s the upward component–a personal relationship with God. In many ways, postmodernity has primed our generation for this aspect of Christianity in that it places so much emphasis on experience and relationships. Protestantism, particularly the evangelical tradition that was birthed in the John Wesley and George Whitefield revivals in the eighteenth century, has emphasized knowing God up close and personally. This is the heart of faith–the emotionality of Christianity. Sometimes it can turn into a kind of fanaticism, but it doesn’t have to. When we really understand Jesus’ reconciliatory mission, it does foster emotion. That God would die so we can live. It’s impossible to really understand this without feeling it’s truth. The Christian faith cannot be sequestered as only an academic exercise. It must breath; it must live. Evangelicalism values this aspect of Christianity. They value what the puritans used to call “vital religion.” Soul religion. Life faith, so to speak.

But there’s also the inward component of Christianity–spiritual disciplines. Authors like Richard Foster, Eugene Peterson, and Henri Nouwen have greatly underscored the importance of living a spiritually disciplined life. St John of the Cross, Teresa of Avila, and others show us how to develop our interior life. Jesus spent nights alone in prayer with his father, and he teaches us that intimacy with God must be nourished and maintained. This is one of the reasons I included a spiritual discipline in each chapter. Spiritual disciplines help us live intentional lives. They refine us and reform us. They create within us a hunger that can be satisfied only by God.

But there’s also an outward component to Christianity. Being Christ to the world. Living in sacred community. Reaching out to others. Now it’s easy, when living out a social gospel, to forget the gospel part. All social and no gospel is not what Jesus demonstrated. It’s not what Paul or James taught. We must have the gospel in our social efforts, lest our endeavors become only humanitarian. Jesus healed the soul through the body. He met spiritual needs through physical measures. He was concerned with both–the body and the soul.

Catatonic Christianity is when Christians see a need and do not respond. It’s been a problem in many Christian traditions, not least some of the monastic traditions that separated themselves from the world without really engaging it. It’s great to see a new generation of Christians taking seriously Christ’s command to feed the hungry and clothe the naked–to be the light of God in a dark and dying world.

Each one of the three components of the Christian faith–the upward, inward, and outward–feeds off the other. And together they contribute to a Christianity that is as relevant as it is edifying.

Here is a recent interview from Ed Stetzer’s blog. www.edstetzer.com

Godology is the idea of theology up close and personal. I wrote Godology because I sense within my generation a real hunger for authentic Christianity. This is a book for those who want to dig deeper in their faith–to trade rakes for shovels. In each chapter I explore an attribute of God, a spiritual discipline that helps us know him better, and a practical way to express that truth in the world. It’s my hope that this upward, inward, and outward approach will foster intimacy with Christ and community with others.

How is this book different from other books about God and spiritual disciplines?

One thing I try to do is use fresh language to talk about ancient truths. There’s so much in the past that evangelicals can draw on that will aid us in the future. What I’m saying in this book isn’t new - it’s orthodox Christian evangelicalism through and through. But I love to look at the Bible through lenses that help us think about our faith in new ways. You won’t find some of the spiritual disciplines I talk about on typical “top 10 spiritual discipline lists” (art, labyrinth walking, and vow making, for example), but they’re practices that have benefited Christians throughout the centuries and can invigorate our spiritual lives.

You have some pretty creative chapter titles. In “Jesus Ninja,” you talk about God’s power and say things like, “Sin bows before Christ its sensei.” How did you decided to use these kinds of images in Godology?

I always try to view life holistically. Christianity isn’t compartmentalized to one part of life. It touches everything. I try to see Christ at work in everyday activities - as a [wannabe] martial artist, as a student, and as a musician, whatever. What I’m trying to do is incarnate theology for people who might not pick up an academic theological textbook, and to show people that theology is exciting. Jesus used word pictures to talk about eternal truths. He connected with people through images they could relate to. So when I say that “holiness is the lone Kit Kat bar in a bucket of Butterfingers,” or “journals are blogs for the soul,” I’m trying to paint the Christian life in a way that a new generation can resonate with.

In Godology, you challenge some of the ways we live life and do church. Talk about some of these.

I’m very hopeful for my generation. I believe God is brewing a revival in our youth groups and on our college campuses. It’s not boiling yet, but it’s brewing. We’re taking our faith outside of the walls of the church and showing the world that Christianity is a call to serve and love in radical ways. In other words, we’re tired of a kiddie-pool Christianity; we want to go deeper. In Godology, I encourage believers to take seriously practices that fuel our faith and draw us closer to God and each other. These disciplines are a call to a counter-cultural way of life.

Silence is a forgotten element that can play a significant role in our worship services. Fasting teaches us how to really feast on Christ. Virtual prayer walking can open our eyes to what God is doing in other parts of the globe. God uses practices like these to wipe off our spiritual milk mustaches and exchange earthly habits for holy ones.

In Godology, you talk about God’s attributes. Is there one that you have struggled with the most?

Definitely God’s holiness. I actually wrote that chapter barefoot - kind of a Moses-before-the-burning-bush approach. Trying to condense God’s holiness into twelve pages was an impossible (and probably dangerous) thing to do. I think a more solid understanding of God’s holiness is one thing we’re starting to recover in our churches - the high voltage glory of God. We’re getting glimpses of a God who is bigger and brighter than we thought, and it’s reminding us of how God got down and dirty on earth so we can be holy too. That’s the beauty of Christianity. Christ came down to lift us up. When we recognize this - when we understand that a holy God intersected with a broken world - we can offer the world something truly worth living for.

I received a Facebook message the other day and thought it might be interesting to share it with you: “I have a thought provoking question in search of your opinion. You said in Godology that people are beginning to search for the “grainy” life. I agree with this statement. In this vein, education gurus tell us that people learn best with hands-on experiential learning (e.g. Montessori, Foxfire, etc). Granted, in church, we sing and read scripture, but do you have any thoughts on how to make congregational worship more hands-on and experiential?”

–Jeremy

In response to your question, Jeremy, let me back up a bit and explain what I mean about the “grainy life.” Technology, in many ways, has both positively and negatively benefit our society. It has given us news ways to stay in connection to one another. It has brought us deeper into a global community and allows for the kind of ecumenism that I think the church can benefit from. But it also has its negative repercussions. One thing I am finding (at least, in myself) is that because we are always a computer click away from updating our Facebook status, or calling a friend, or Skyping, or whatever, there is an incarnational loss inherent to technological advance. There is a lack of flesh, so to speak. I was presenting a paper last weekend in Stirling on virtual reality and pilgrimage and someone asked me in the Q and A afterward about this idea of incarnation. She was responding to a comment I made about Jesus coming to earth as a person, not a pixel. And I told her that while virtual reality can connect us from one another, it can also disconnect us in ways that we don’t even realize. It tricks us into thinking that online community is equivalent or even better than face-to-face community. Flesh community. And I am finding people are hungry again for this fleshly kind of community–a grainy, nitty gritty kind of community

So Jeremy, your question is interesting because it addresses how churches can appropriate the grainy life. I certainly need to spend more time developing this, but I think the answer lies in spiritual disciplines. Spiritual disciplines like fasting and meditative prayer, and even labyrinth walking awaken us to spiritual realities otherwise undetected in our lives. You mention that people learn best through hands on experiences and corporate spiritual disciplines like pilgrimage and chanting provide us incarnational ways to express our faith. All the disciplines I mention in Godology can be practiced in corporate worship, though services these days rarely focus on them. For example, let’s say you want your congregation to experience what it means for Christ to be at the center of our lives through the discipline of labyrinth walking. Clear our the chairs and make one giant labyrinth in the center of your church so that people can physically walk through the service during the sermon, during the singing. An organic movement/flow of people not looking at the preacher, but inwardly aware of the direction of their lives, of their individual and collective direction. Instead of sitting and listening, this would create a kind of incarnational atmosphere that, in my opinion, gets the sermonic message across with great articulation.

There are many other ways to incorporate the grainy life in our services. I’d be interesting in what you guys think. Please feel free to leave comments.

Here is a radio interview I did early this week on Moody Bible Radio. I have never met the host, Greg Wheatley, but I’ve talked to many students here in St. Andrews who have either had him in a class at the Moody Bible Institute or know him from church. Though this interview was only ten minutes long, he seemed to probe at the heart of Godology–knowing God up close and personally.

PrimeTimeAmerica.mp3

On a separate note, I had the most interesting conversation with a group of students I’m teaching. We were discussing the Celtic notion of “white martyrdom” and if there is a biblically sound basis for this radical way of living. White martyrdom is the dying daily to self for the purpose of growing closer to God. I’ve also seen it called “green martyrdom” because of the Irish monks who practiced it. At its core, I believe it represents a total abandonment to God. Not just a kind of casual Christianity that is so rampant in today’s evangelicalism. Green martyrdom speaks to Christ’s words in Matthew 6:24, “If anyone should come after me he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.

I think it speaks to the seriousness of the gospel–a gospel that pushes us outward–to the fringe of things–to the edge of things. It was a gospel that pushed the Celts to the very edge of a flat world. To places like Skellig Michael and Iona. It is a faith that risks, trusting in the God who removes us from our comfort zones. I think that’s what the Celtic monks embraced–a life of separation from the world and engagement with the world. Unlike the Egyptian monks like Anthony and others who retreated into the desert to escape the growing secularization of Roman Christianity, the Celts harbored missionary posts and often permeated the British Isles with the Gospel of Christ. I’m currently working on this idea of evangelism, how it can fit into a postmodern paradigm, and I think the Celts have something valuable to say to us about it.

Who knows? Perhaps those ancient guys can teach us something significant about our own struggle to live in a counter-cultural and Christo-centric way. What do you think?

The strangest thing about writing a book about God is that there is so much I should have said about Him that I didn’t. I suppose no one can truly condense the entirety of God into 180 pages. And if we could, perhaps we ourselves would be God. But looking at Godology (when it is too late to make any editorial revisions), I am truly aware that at best Christian writers must simply abandon their work in hopes that someone else will pick up where we left off. There is always one more word, one more sentence, one more page.

Nevertheless, thanks to all of you who have spread the word about this book. Here is a review that was recently posted about the book.

Taken from http://epangelia.blogspot.com.

“Christian George has written Doctrine of God in a language which is fresh, contemporary and very accessible to this generation of younger evangelicals and non-christians alike. It is a mini Doctrine of God primarily centering around the attributes of God. He covers a wide range of attributes from the Unity of God to the Eternality of God.He is an excellent writer.

I sat down and read 5 chapters of his book the other day at Barnes and Noble before I got distracted by a phone call. In his chapter “Chocolate for the Soul”, George deals with the Holiness of God. He says, “I wrote this chapter barefoot. Not because my Chacos were dirty, but because I am dirty. To stand before God’s holiness and try to condense it into twelve pages- well, that’s an impossible and rather dangerous thing to do.”

The thing I like about this book is that Christian George moves the reader from theology to doxology and practical application of the truths being considered. The later portion of each chapter deals with how to appropriate the truth he has just described. The book is not just a doctrine of God it has to do with the spiritual disciplines of the Christian life. It’s fesh, engaging and helpful all at the same time. Thanks Christian.”

Table of Contents

Introduction: Rakes for Shovels

1. Mardi Gras and Icicles: God’s Unity
2. Jesus Ninja: God’s Power
3. Sunsets and Dinosaurs: God’s Creativity
4. Showing Some Skin: God’s Vulnerability
5. Chocolate for the Soul: God’s Holiness
6. Rhapsody in Red: God’s Love
7. Jealous is My Name: God’s Jealousy
8. Inbox (1): God’s Wisdom
9. Cardboard Crosses: God’s Patience
10. Feng Shui Faith: God’s Mystery
11. G-Force: God’s Mystery

Epilogue: (NaCL)

Yesterday Rebecca and I made our way down to the coastline of St. Andrews. Having spent the majority of our time in the city, it was refreshing to see the sea–so blue and expansive. Norway is not far into the horizon (and the water temperature certainly reflects it). The ocean always has a way of turning my thoughts outward, and eventually upward. The juxtaposition of the ancient churches to the expansive horizon creates and forward/backward sensation as you walk along the cliff. In one sense, you are pulled back into the past–back to the days of Knox, Luther, and Calvin. Yet, forward and outward–continuing their reformation as we hold all things up to the canon of Scripture. Attached are some photos of the beach and other views we encounter of the course of a day. May they be a source of inspiration to you.

Rebecca and I attended an induction service at St. Salvator’s Chapel (14th century). Their were no pews as we in America have come to know them. Instead, the nave of the cathedral has two choir sections facing one another. We sang “Great is thy faithfulness” among other songs. My second supervisor, Dr. Ian Bradley (who, turns out is the head of religious broadcasting for BBC Scotland) preached a well crafted sermon on the Word becoming Flesh. It was quite moving. He had one line that still sticks with me–”The Word became Flesh, but often we return it again to the Word.” His point, as I understood it, was that we must resist the urge to sugar coat Christ by remembering that indeed the Logos became skin (and is still skin in heaven). Jesus became human for us and remained human with us. This was a profound statement coming from Dr. Bradley, an expert on Celtic illuminated manuscripts where the inky written words were actually and physically inscribed on calf skin.

Concerning the pictures, I took several panorama shots and stitched them together to give you the entirety of the perspective. Some are a bit scatter-angled. Some other pictures include our new bicycle, which Rebecca bravely acquired, the castle ruins where John Knox was imprisoned for a year, the cathedral ruins which used to be the religious capitol of Scotland in the medieval era, some pictures of the coastline, one of the many golf courses (by the way, Rebecca insisted that I take golf lessons, so I begin 10 weeks of golf lessons next week on the old course), and our beach. It’s altogether lovely here.

For you Jane Austen fans, Rebecca and I went to a theological tea the other day and it was exactly out of Sense and Sensibility–the accents, the formality, the little crumpet looking things…perfectly fantastic.

The journey from America to Scotland has been a difficult, but rewarding one. On Saturday, I become a fully matriculated Ph.D student at St. Mary’s College at the University of St. Andrews. On one hand, we live in a one bedroom flat (bathroom/kitchen/closet/study/bedroom, etc), about a twenty minute walk from the center of town. On the other hand, we know that God has led us here for a reason, and Rebecca and I believe the next three years are going to be the best in our lives.

After leaving New Orleans for New York, we arrived in Edinburgh for a two day visit. Of particular interest to me there was the John Knox House, where John Knox lived and died.

John Knox was a Scottish Reformer and masterful preacher who aided the acceptance of the Protestant movement in Scotland. Without going into too much detail, he earned a degree at St. Andrews, spent a year in exile at the castle of St. Andrews, was taken prisoner for a year and lived on board a French vessel (that’s where when asked to bow and kiss a wooden statue of the virgin Mary he threw her overboard and yelled, “If she’s really the mother of God, let her swim!”), moved to Geneva where he interacted with John Calvin and preached at an English speaking church there, and is said to have lived and died in Edinburgh (at the John Knox House).

St. Andrews is a medieval town on the eastern coast of Scotland. Norway isn’t too far away (and it is bitter cold all the time). Yet, Rebecca and I were strolling along the beach side (or cliff-North Sea side, to be more particular) two days ago, and were struck by the great theological tradition that seeps down the cobblestone streets.

It is so ancient here.

To think that Knox himself lived and breathed in this town! It is so humbling to see the castle on the shore where Knox was taken prisoner. And I ask myself at what great cost is my own Christianity? The only persecution I’ve thus faced has been some rather indecent remarks from some college party folks concerning the sign that I placed on the outside of my door (”As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord”).

St. Mary’s college sits just off South Street (one of four main streets in St. Andrews), and opens into a medieval courtyard surrounded with ornately stone-worked buildings, grass greener than I’ve ever seen in America, and a tree that Mary Queen of Scots planted. By the way, there are bunnies everywhere (I told Rebecca that even if things get grim, we can at least eat well–that is, with some archery practice).

St. Mary’s quad is filled with bustling new theology students (mostly Masters level) no doubt turning their affections away from the rigors of moving in (and the many hassles thereof) and onto the deep things of God.

On another note, at my orientation speech from the dean I learned that the past three days have been the first sunny days all summer. He quickly assured us it would indeed come to an end and in 6 weeks time twilight will begin to set in at around 2:00 pm (reaching for the Vitamin D).

Thank you all for your constant support and encouragements. I have come to believe that God has brought us to Scotland for a purpose, and we are purposely his.