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Prophetic and sustainable are two words perpetually marketed into  meaninglessness. Someone swoons, “That is so prophetic!” Really!? Please tell me how we’ve ended up entrenched in such ambiguity? And sustainability… for who, in what context, fulfilling which protocols, to what ends? But that’s just it… it’s typically all about “it” and not “who”.

Techniques and efficiencies are typically anti-human. It’s like the term non-profit, which usually comes across more like anti-profit. You can never be quite sure which direction Jezebel will come for your head; the prophet killer. It’s more than word games.

Without discernment, this could be a difficult picture to interpret. The flash from my camera is arching across a panoramic convex mirror at the Louvre in Paris, Darlene to my left.

One of the final stories in Clairvaux Manifesto took place on cliffs of Eastern Canada overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, and contains this snapshot,

I pointed to the eastern horizon and swept my arm overhead, pointing to the western shores of Canada. “God, take the answer to that prayer straight across this nation!” As I swept my arm overhead, cracking lightning streaked across the sky in line with my finger.

For what can be more prejudicial to the interests of intelligence,
than to falsify our real sentiments, to conceal the doubts
which we feel in regard to our statements,
or to maintain the validity of grounds of proof
which we well know to be insufficient?
Immanuel Kant

There are also these proverbs of Solomon . . .
God delights in concealing things; scientists delight in discovering things.
Like the horizons for breadth and the ocean for depth, the understanding
of a good leader is broad and deep. Remove impurities from the silver
and the silversmith can craft a fine chalice; remove the wicked from leadership
and authority will be credible and God-honoring.
Proverbs 25:1-5 (MSG)

Last week on Vancouver Island was fantastic; such good times sharing stories and adventures, swapping scriptures and prayers, listening to stellar songs written and yet to be recorded, and what would a family trip be without harnesses, ropes and eighty foot drops!?

This picture was taken inside the Legislative Assembly of BC, we enjoyed a private tour (timing is everything): ending up in rose gardens, ministers offices, the library, and on the central balcony overlooking the well-manicured lawns and waterfront.

There are those who quote Mother Teresa’s Letters who will never risk living her life.  There are those who live a monastic life who have waded through oceans of pain and worship. There are those who pretend to be Jeremiah, who have far too much to lose. There are those who are authentic, who have given everything they have, to receive what is completely other.

This is a spinning diamond wheel put to marble. I was in my dad’s garage surrounded by tools; crafting something for my brother.

For the past few days, my wife Darlene has been encouraging me through her daily readings of Jeremiah. This morning, at the office (between meetings: next meeting at noon with Bedford Biofuels), I’m here reading Walter Brueggemann’s The Prophetic Imagination, where we read the author’s diamond-tipped precision,

Kings know intuitively that the deception, the phony claims of prosperity, oppression, and state religion will collapse when the air of covenant hits them. The riddle and insight of biblical faith is the awareness that only anguish leads to life, only grieving leads to joy, and only embraced endings permit new beginnings.

From Clairvaux (headquarters of Bernard) to Barking (headquarters of William the Conqueror), the carved abbey stones cry out from the ashes, “By the grace of God we are what we are.”

As I attempt to teach in Clairvaux Manifesto, we have to remember rightly in a right way. We can remember rightly in a wrong way; typical of the human condition. But, we can never remember wrongly in a right way; typical of demonic intent. To make the wrong seem and appear to be right… The host of hell would not only erase all memory of the Good, they would superimpose their own twisted longings over everything Good, poisoning every deep well of truth. Sorry, not on my watch!!!

This was my office desk back in May, 2007. I smile looking at the first presentation I ever put together on our due diligence process at Woodthorpe Petroleum Ltd., a world bank report, an oil and gas prospectus, and a schematic revealing the infrastructure of one particular nation we were researching (water tables and tectonics I think).

Now, (after writing and publishing Clairvaux Manifesto in 2009) I’m back at it, planning for the future success of an oil company, fighting along side my friends. For example, earlier today we put in two bids equaling nearly 10 million dollars of potential work.

Sitting at Gatwick airport, 8 minutes and 19 seconds left on internet station. My iPhone has been giving me the whitescreen of death for two days… gotta get it fixed or replaced; nearly threw it in the Thames River yesterday… but at least it didn’t cause me to miss any meetings, had it all written down (luckily).

I covered a lot of miles in the City of London… so many stories. But, just glad to be getting home to Dar, Luke, Bree and Nate; I miss them terribly… especially sitting here staring at a thousand strangers and seeing so many kids I wish were mine.

I don’t know how else to put it; breadcrumbs.

Yesterday at this time, I was on a private tour of the Presidential Palace in Malta. Today, I find myself walking among Maltese Crosses in London’s St. John’s Square.

I didn’t plan it this way.  This morning’s meeting was set up to meet at a coffee shop called St. John; I didn’t set up the location. The meeting ended up postponed till tomorrow, no worries… So I started walking and praying, and voilà… I’m surrounded by the iconic images of the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem.