Pastor John Van Sloten

I just got back from a cohort gathering with Regent Seminary on Galiano Island (I suffer so).  It was probably the most intellectually stimulating experience I’ve had in years (maybe ever).   They talked a lot about a God who speaks through two books.  Needless to say I was into it.  The speakers were brilliant, and those who formed the group possesed some pretty dense grey matter.  At times I felt out of my element, but for the most part it was a blast.   The theological affirmation I felt throughout the event was quite moving.  I found myself trembling a lot.  When I got home I told my wife that, while I’m not an academic, I do love dabbling in that world.  Got a few great ideas for a sermon series on science this fall… and took a few nice photos!

Every month or so vandals demolish the safety glass cladding the 51st street bus stop near our place.   The senselessness of it all usually ticks me off.  But today I made the best of it by capturing the beauty there. 

This morning I headed out on a walk, intent on getting a good photo of a snowflake.  It’s never worked before – too elusive, hard to focus on, meltage – but I wanted to try.   Little did I know how much a feather and a few spider webs would help.   I also met countless buds who were pretending they were birds.  Great fun. (just click on the images to enlarge them)

Well, it took me 19 days to rewrite/edit the book. I have never worked more intensely than I have over these two and a half weeks. Not physically – I barely moved – but mentally I pushed myself hard. It’s been both exhausting and exhilarating…

And now this phase is done. I had to call home just to share the news with someone I loved. Now the tougher part. I have to try and read my own book. How do you do that when you’re so close to the text? I don’t even know if it’s possible. I’m going away with Fran for the weekend. Maybe that will help.

Well, it’s almost been a week of writing. And things have gone spectacularly well. I’ve re-written four chapters so far; better progress than expected. The surroundings here at Kingsfold are very inspiring, and I’ve even gotten two bike rides and a whole bunch of photography in. A typical day…

…begins with me waking up at 5:30 am, this morning I awoke with the first line of the next chapter fully articulated in my mind. Barely able to open my eyes, I knew exactly what to say; how great is that. After dressing I headed over to the kitchen to brew a coffee, then I walked over to a building called the Greenhouse – great chairs with a mountain view – and as I’m making my way over all I can hear are birds singing, and the water from the Ghost River flowing in the valley below. When I get to the Greenhouse I make a small fire in the pot bellied stove, plug in my laptop, and usually listen to a song or two. Yesterday, it was a Mendelssohn tune that sang about finding God’s strength by lifting your eyes to the mountains. As this beautiful aria is playing out, I’m watching the sun rise on a few of those mountains. Needless to say, it gets the creative juices flowing.
Then I write until breakfast at 8:00 am, and then work again until 12:30, then take a break for a few hours before slipping some more time in. It’s quite draining but very fulfilling. I can’t believe I get to do this.

What a great day. First I stood at the foot of an amazing mountain; the one near the curb on 51st Street and 33rd Avenue. Next I saw two tropical cabanas on the footbridge over Sarcee Trail; so warm and inviting. A little further up the road I entered a large cave and was taken aback by this amazing ice column supporting a huge rock…

I should have known it was going to be that kind of day when I woke up and saw an electical transmission tower on my second floor window, and all that frost on our blue spruce tree.

The barrenness of the frozen reservoir captured my imagination today. There was just something about its emptiness; its stark and expansive loneliness. The thought hit me that only vast and vacant spaces can hold and reflect great and immense things.

There’s something about how emptiness yearns to be filled. The mystery of its nothingness calls out in a way, it asks; beckons. And it seems to have room for something significant. It has space.

I’ve always thought that it would take the enormity of a universe to begin to adequately hold and reflect the nature and being of God. Anything smaller just couldn’t come close. And universes are filled with emptiness, anti-matter and blackness aren’t they? Perhaps only something this empty could begin to be filled with the presence of God. Omnipotence and omnipresence couldn’t fit anywhere else.

It just made me smile, taking in all that empty space.

 After a huge unexpected snowstorm the silence in the Weaselhead this morning was stunning. The sense of peace palpable. Not a soul to be seen (except the birds) anywhere. Each tree held the snow in a unique way.

I lost track of two hours of time this afternoon; taking pictures in the the Weasalhead Conservation Area. I find it fascinating seeing how the new snow interacts with the winter foliage. Beauty is indeed timeless…

Yesterday I came home and found a children’s digital camera in our mailbox with this note, “I saw this and thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be fun to see what Edward would see through the lens of a camera?’” How thoughful! Here’s what he saw today…