A few days before Pentecost Sunday (while touring Luke around Ontario for his 11th birthday), my mom handed me a book wrapped in layers of tissue paper. Her body language told me the book was delicate, even precious. As we stood there together in silence, I carefully uncovered a 1681 copy of Bernard of Clairvaux’s Sermons on Psalm 90 (XC).

As I sit here translating the first sermon, I realize a deeper secret… In French, the first line of Bernard’s first sermon reads, “Celui qui s’appuie sur le secours du Tres-haut, demeurera dans la protection du Dieu du Ciel.” The English translation, “Whoever relies on the help of the Most High, will remain in the protection of the God of Heaven.”

In this 2007 picture, Dan King sits to my right holding communion wine, listening intently to a new friend visiting from Texas. I’m playing something on Adam Loszchuk’s guitar, his wife Crystal sitting to my left. Adam once gave me a Taylor guitar as a gift, placed in my hands ~ freely given. Around my neck hangs the silver gift of a Falasha Jew received in the UK. Not long after receiving it, I gave that gift of silver to another friend.

To keep the flow pure, we have to keep giving it all away.

Breaking the seal of Clairvaux Manifesto (pages 87-88):

“To be still before the bloody cross and holy throne of God is to navigate the bridge between meditation and contemplation. Meditation is the focus of attention on the things of God. Contemplation is realizing and responding to the very presence of God. We come boldly before our Father, through the body and blood of his Son.

It’s Maundy Thursday. The four Gospels paint it well. We can’t wash it all away by intentionally spilling water over the document. Get a book wet, it just gets thicker and heavier!

Did you know, throughout the annals of history, there is more proof in writing that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, then there is adequate documentation that certain Caesars even existed?

It was spoken clearly and recorded skillfully, so that it could be said with authority, “It is written…”

Once upon a time, I was perceived an orator, the guy with the words. From street corners, to pulpits, to well lit platforms, I was called the voice of something significant, and there was fruit everyone was pointing at. I was repeatedly told by aged elders, evangelical leaders, and enthusiastic students, “You’re the voice of this in our nation right now.”

here’s one of the five potential covers we put forward for voting, as clairvaux manifesto went to press in october, ’09.  we may use something like this for the e-book version, once the remainder of our print copies are sold.

in the meantime, i’m putting thought into my next book. words, words everywhere, but not a drop of ink… so, what will be written? preaching Christ!

it’s not about international blueprints, national agendas, and local business plans. an armada needs inspiration, infusion, reintroduction to their core… and He is at the very core of my thoughts and prayers and dreams.

“Concerning my own humble person, I frankly confess that as an author I am a king without a country and also, in fear and much trembling, an author without any claims.” Søren Kierkegaard

From jets to helicopters to hybrids to discovering more fuel to keep everyone cruising, there are rules of engagement, procedures, safety measures, to do lists, don’t lists, pipelines to fill, investors to entice, partners to please, bills to pay.

I suppose we can just demonize it all, quietly squeezing those fast rolling numbers into our hungry tanks with a sneer, leaving our carbon footprint smoldering between destinations…

This is one of my favorite pictures of Terry Woodthorpe. He’s paying attention just before takeoff, walking through a safety check, communicating the detail, not missing a thing. This man has taught me everything I know about oil and gas, and much more.

This particular day, I focused my lens onto hundreds of angles of oil and gas in the wilderness of Northern Alberta. Our team was in the air and on the ground doing due diligence, recon. Rivers, tree lines, pipelines, facilities, adjacent wells, spacing, production, depths, pools, reefs, reserves.

I choose to trust first and ask questions along the way, it’s a personal posture that leverages my faith, hope, and love. I can’t hold anyone at arms length until they prove they are worthy of MY trust… there’s nothing teachable or pleasantly surprising about such controlled environments. Who am I to be surrounded by concentric circles of organized religion? I must be willing to risk it all for love, at all times.

In this pic, I’m standing on Middle Sister with Little Sister before me, Calgary on the horizon beyond, Canmore in the valley below.

I’m sitting here in Canmore Starbucks with my usual quad americano, pausing to glance out the window at the currently snow & sun drenched peaks of Three Sisters, recalling how I stood up there on top of Middle Sister — her name Hope — standing pretty, between little sister Faith and big sister Charity.

I recall Éowyn of Rohan, the slayer of Nazgûl, with sword drawn, responding sharply to Aragorn’s questioning of her fears, “…[t]o stay behind bars, until use and old age accept them, and all chance of great deeds is gone beyond recall or desire.”