A year ago, as I finished the first draft of Broken Futures, I wrote in the acknowledgements: “Yesterday I stood in a new doorway – one I created with a hammer and a crow-bar. I first had to expose the ancient plaster and lathe on the interior wall of our 100 year old home, and then the work began. It was messy. My right hand was beginning to ache. I was occasionally choking on dust, and it was irritating my eyes. After an hour of work I had created a path that will be used by a generation I will never know.”

Oddly, I now find myself building a new door. It’s not for the same doorway — but it feels like there is more to it than the door. As in the first case the doorway seemed to be linked to a process, so the door feels timely. But in what way, I don’t yet know. Perhaps when the opportunity appears, I’ll recognize the connection.

Meanwhile, the course I’m overseeing at Tyndale is moving along nicely. I have eight students in a cohort exploring models of spiritual formation. The class is very diverse in their interests, and so their approach to the maps they are exploring is similarly diverse. Fun stuff!

I’ve been reading an old Philip Yancey book on prayer, as well as finishing John Walton’s latest, “The Lost World of the Conquest.” This is his third in the series, and the first, on Genesis, was enlightening.

Last night we ventured out to the annual rib-fest. This event is well attended, very smoky, and always includes a band stand where the bass is cranked so loud that eventually your brain shuts down and the music becomes just noise. Not sure why this approach is still popular with the greying crowd. I can take it for about a half hour and then it becomes too painful. Otherwise a great event and with the streets closed to traffic it’s a nice event in the old Port Arthur core.