My, How Time Flies.

well there are two goals reached this week:

The first is I am over the hump for National Novel Writing Month (nanowrimo). I sailed over the halfway point only a day late. It's all downhill from here.

Well, not really, but getting to that point was a good feeling to say the least.

While in the midst of my personal journey through thirty days and nights of literary abandon, the proofs arrived for my newest book: Xtreme Xianity. It is so tempting to get off the nano roller coaster and start the editing of this book. I must admit, I did sit down with it and pulled out my red pen and went at it for a few pages.

As I was holding this book in my hands and fondly fondled the cover, I had to stop and think for a minute or two. I opened the inside page where I had all the notification stuff listed; copyright notice, no permission, ISBN and all that housekeeping stuff. There was also a list of my published works.

This book, when I finally give it that last bit of spit and polish and send it out into the world will mark my tenth book since I first published in 2006.

Wow... 10 books. That's a lot of words. I'm sure it calls for a celebration of some kind. But what does one do to mark this auspicious occasion? Do I set up a circuit of interviews with broadcasters? Nope. Do I sing happy anniversary or happy birthday? That doesn't sound quite right either. How about standing downtown yelling at the top of my lungs? Well, that will probably at the very least get me a ticket for disturbing the peace.

Perhaps after the rush of Nanowrimo has worn off, then I can sit back and further ponder about this particular milestone. Time flies when you're having fun.

The Month of Nines

I recently heard a story about the old pastor of the church I grew up in.

His Name was Albert V. Clock. I knew him as Dr. Clock. He had earned a Doctor of Theology degree from Dallas Theological Seminary and had come to Northern Ontario to start a Bible College in our very rural community of Goulais River.

I was speaking with a man named Rod. Rod had at one time owned a furniture store in town and Dr. Clock would sometimes drop in to say hello. Rod said that one day they were talking about how God works and was told this following story.

For the sake of brevity, I am going to shorten it up a bit.

"Rod," said Dr. Clock. "I build churches. I go out to the plot of land and lay out the spot for the building and start digging the foundations."

"People would come by and ask what I was doing. I would tell them I was building a church. They would say, "Are you crazy? You don't have the money to build a church."

"I would reply, "The Lord wants me to build a church. If He wants me to stop, then the money will stop coming in.""

Then he said to Rod, "You know, I always had something to do on that building. The money would keep on coming until the church was built, then it would stop."

Now what does this mean to a nine-year old boy? Absolutely nothing.

I was nine-years old when I first met Dr. Clock. It was during Vacation Bible School at the newly formed Northland Bible College campus, which consisted of 70 acres of land, a farm house, a small cabin, a barn and a few utility sheds. There was a hole in the ground where the foundations were being laid for a building that would serve both the college and the new church family that was now meeting in the farm house kitchen.

Dr. Clock stood in the middle of a circle of fidgety children with a smile on his face as he welcomed us that first morning. He was dressed in jeans, plaid shirt and a beat up old straw hat. He called us Mohicans (whatever that was) and we sang John 3:16. Our classroom was in the hay loft in the barn.

Now to a nine year old boy, VBS was something else. We went on hikes, had horseback rides, a hayride, and a treasure hunt on the last day that had us running over half the property.

We heard the Bible stories, memorized Scripture, and were encouraged to bring friends for the contest. At the end of the week, we went home with the wooden matchstick cross we made in craft, a workbook that we had done during the week and an invitation to come to something called Sunday School.

Our Sunday school class was held in the barn until it got too cold and then we spent the winter at one of the member's houses. The chapel building was ready for use the next spring and we moved into it for our Sunday meetings.

It was during the fall in the back corner classroom that my life changed forever. It was there during my Sunday school class that I gave my life to Christ.

What makes the story more poignant is Northland Bible Chapel was the last church Dr. Clock built. During the week it served as the campus for Northland Bible College and on weekends, it was home to the chapel family.

Dr. Clock, led by his commitment to provide quality Bible training, not only to young people to make them able ministers, he also built one last church were he spent the remainder of his life ministering at.

The questioned I asked myself and I am asking you today is this: What is your level of commitment to what you believe?

To a nine-year old boy, that commitment caused a life-changing experience. How many nine-year olds will say the same of you?