My buddy Jim recently had surgery to repair an injury (ACL) in his left knee. I, and my family, began our holidays by visiting Jim a few days after Mr. Knife. I was expecting the usually jovial Jim to be somewhat stoic and sore but what I got was something far worse.

No matter how much he tried to ride and hide the pain, it wasn’t pretty. No doubt about it, Dewdew had a BIG BOOBOO. What’s interesting, though, is that this was something he signed up for. This pain was his idea, or at least the source of his pain was his idea. You see, since Jim had a motorcycle injury in May, he hadn’t been able to play racquetball and he wouldn’t be able to play racquetball again, unless he had the surgery. Sure he could have gone through life as normal (not very) as Jim can get through life. He didn’t have pain. He could walk around. He could do all the stuff that Dews do, except for Rball, as he calls it. Well, for Dew Rball is the be-all and the end-all, so the decision was made: no pain; no gain.

To be honest, I was proud of the Dew. He certainly wasn’t being a baby (by male standards anyway). He was in pain, sure, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to push the pain envelope in order to fast track his recovery. By the end of the week I was seeing a vast improvement. I was impressed by how far he had come. I was impressed by his focus and drive. Jim wasn’t satisfied though. He couldn�t be because he had a goal that was still so very far away.

While we were there, I drove him around to physio several times. As crazy as it sounds, Jim looked forward to the physio. He talked about his therapist and how much pain the man seemed to enjoy inflicting. Jim figures the more pain inflicted the quicker the recovery. He has this bring-it-on attitude that almost worries me. I’ve always known us preachers to be masochists but, gee, does Jim have to be the Posterboy of Pain? I guess he does because the more pain he endures now, the quicker he’ll be able to get back on the courts. His passion pays for his pain.

I find it kind of humbling. I wonder about how much passion I have for the really important things in my life. How much am I willing to sacrifice? How much pain am I willing to not only endure, but actually embrace in order to reach my goals? And, why is it that I find it easier to sacrifice for the temporal, rather than the eternal?

Well I and the posse are about to embark on the BIG “V”. Clothes are being packed, books are being selected. My CD case is being recalibrated for my tastes and new acquisitions. You may think this is a trivia point to the trip, but I only have 40 spots and those in the know will understand that this will require that my case be packed with precision or the trip will be a total disaster! I am also downloading some sermons to burn and listen to along the way.

John just turned sixteen, (today) so this year we will do some traveling. The reality is that next year who knows who will and will not be available. Sheila might have a new job. John might be trying to make enough money to get insurance on the van so that he can properly take the rite of passage to manhood. In other words, this may be the last kick at the travel can for some time.

The first port of call will be my buddy with the gammy leg. Jim just had an operation on his leg so this is a sympathy visit for sure. (Actually this is a mocking visit, but sympathy visit has a kinder ring to it.) I will be his therapy ride, his shoulder to cry on, the Marshall Dillon to his Festus (a more appropriate name could not be picked). Next Sunday I’ll be preaching at his congregation in Frederick MD. I’ll try and keep my “eh” quota to a minimum, after all, I hate to be a cliché, eh.

After that we head through the States to the Canadian Maritimes (New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia). I am looking forward to spending the night at Restoration House in New Hampshire. Restoration House is a church planting organization and they have rooms they regularly make available to roving preachers and the like. I can’t wait to hear what the Lord is doing in that part of the world.

It’s been over four years now that we left the Maritimes behind after spending twelve years ministering in Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick. It will be great to catch up with old friends and reacquaint the kids with where they were born and spent the early years of their lives. I am looking forward to spending some time with Stephen and Beth and their family at their cottage on PEI. Beth told me of a hammock that I intend to claim. I hope to leave a healthy drool stain as proof of some extreme power napping.

It’s funny, Stephen and Beth are members at Keele, the church where I serve, but we are all so busy with our lives in Toronto that it seems necessary to travel 1,200 km to actually spend some time with them. I look forward to seeing some of the old haunts and I have to get a New Glasgow lobster supper in there somewhere.

Of course we will be visiting special friends like the Bowyers and the Clarkes and others, but most of all I am looking forward to just spending time with my family. They are my favorite people and it feels like I’ve been ignoring them a bit too much lately. I may be able to send a blog or two along the way, but if not, hey, don’t sweat it. You shouldn’t be sitting at the computer anyway. Go find a hammock eh! The summer is too short to waste!

Have you ever felt like you were part of a different species, or the result of a terrible test tube tragedy involving clumsy hands, a mop, and a strainer?

Yesterday that is exactly how I felt as I visited a plastic surgeon’s office for the first time in my life. (That’s right, just like the Ten Commandments, my chiseled features come directly from the finger of God, unfortunately I think someone dropped me as well.) Why was I there? I got a growth thingie (ganglion, I believe it is called) on my left pinkie finger that is bugging me and apparently plastic surgeons are all over them ganglions.

As I walked into the surgeon’s office, it felt and smelled like I was walking into the exotic land of the Amazons, you know, those mythical beauties with the bows and bods. All the women in the office created a cluster of breathing airbrushed ads. I didn’t know where to look. I felt like at any moment I might be turned into a pillar of salt, so there I sat feverously highlighting my way to distraction in my favourite commentary on the Gospel of Mark.

I didn’t know that doctor’s offices like this existed. I mean, to me a doctor’s office is a place for germs and geriatrics, with a significant population of sniffing, sodden kids. I certainly never considered the doctors office to be like a fashion shoot for the “Arian Today” swimsuit edition. Truly my eyes were opened to a new reality (although I am not sure that anything in the room was really real).

What shocked me most about the whole deal was that the majority of stuff going on in that office was pay-as-you-go. People pay big bucks to go under the knife. They suffer through the pain and puffiness of recovery and then they come back for more. You have to admire the drive and dedication. My only question is: what happens when gravity has its way? It always does you know! Thousands of dollars and tons of pain and sacrifice are spent for a fleeting moment of beauty.

I guess that’s a good deal for some, but not me. I’d rather sacrifice for something that lasts beyond what age, gravity, ministry and McDonalds does to my body. At the same time, I am humbled by the level of focus and commitment I saw in that room. Shouldn’t I be at least as willing and committed as they—especially when the pay off is being re-created in the image of God — instead of the re-creation of an image in a magazine.