Hello, again...

Both my writing mentor and an international phone call have now chastised me for not updating this blog. In response, I have characteristically buckled under peer pressure and dusted off my typing fingers. (Ironically, I had lots of trouble typing the previous sentence.)

For your sake, o loyal reader (if any such people still exist), I will fight the urge to update everything that has happened since I last posted. After all, 4 months have lapsed since then and you likely have access to ESPN.com and, therefore, all the news you need about the last four months.

Instead, I’ll reveal why this blog has lain undisturbed for so long. Frankly, I feel like I’ve run out of words. I know that those of you that know me quite well cannot believe that could possibly ever happen, but allow me to explain.

Late last semester, I re-learned a lesson that I learned in high school. Procrastination = bad.

I had signed up for a four-unit independent study at school. At the time of registration, I had every intention of spacing out the 80 hours of reading and 10,000 words of writing over the course of the fifteen week semester. Instead, I waited. What for is not exactly clear, but I waited anyway. I suppose I thought that late work would not present a real problem. About eight days before the end of the semester, that train of thought jumped the track.

That day my friend, Tim, called. He, like me, also enrolled in this independent study. He, unlike me, had actually gone to speak to our supervising professor about due dates. Our phone call went something like this:

Me: “Yo.”
Him: “Hey. Have you talked to Dr. Kreider about the independent study?”
Me: “No. Why?”
Him: “Well, we’re screwed.”

Turns out, late work actually would present a real problem. As a result, I now knew that I had to submit this project to my professor in eight days. At the end of the semester. When work always comes due. Like it says in the student handbook. Yes, I freely admit that I am an idiot sometimes.

I filled those eight days with the reading of five books and the writing of 9,991 words on the emergent church and far too little interaction with the outside world. (Especially with my sainted wife who endured the whole thing with grace, love, and patience. And, she still acts like she likes being married to me.)

After that exercise in drinking from a fire hose, I then took two winter term classes. Funny thing about that procrastination lesson…

The first week of winter term, I took Christian Camping. A great class that gave an excellent overview of planning and implementing effective church camps, retreats, and events. As a bonus, it didn’t give much homework. I considered the ability to go home each night and not have anything to do as a gift from God for the hard work I had put in at the end of the previous semester. Instead, I would later see it in its true light: as a test from God to see how well I had learned the hard lesson from the end of the previous semester.

Although no homework each night of Christian Camping gave me a nice break, Eschatology lurked just beyond the horizon. Eschatology had a similar reading and writing load to that of Christian Camping except for the part where the syllabus talked about lots and lots to do. Loads of reading, plenty of writing. No problem for the diligent student who planned ahead and used his free evenings the week of Christian Camping to get some reading done ahead of time. If only I were such a student.

During the week of Eschatology—and the two weeks that followed during which students could submit work—I, yet again, reaped the rewards of my incredible foresight. I already faced the daunting task of figuring out how to complete all this Eschatology work while starting the spring semester. Imagine my great pleasure to hear two of my spring professors say, “I put most of your reading for the semester in the next couple of weeks in order to lay a foundation.”

On top of that, the entire first draft of my thesis (Jan 30) and the first leg of a major Hebrew project (Feb 6) both came due. Life went from, “Ah, crap. I’m an idiot,” to “Somebody please shoot the idiot.” So, I read. And I wrote. Next, I read. Then I wrote some more. After that, I read. I finished it all up with a little writing. My eyes and my fingers constantly battled for the coveted “most exhausted part of Benji’s body” award. Somehow, it all got done. Most of it on time.

As a result, I feel like I’ve done nothing but read and write since forever ago. Therefore, I have given my blog no attention, because I’m out of words (as you can undoubtedly tell).

But, through it all, I learned two critical things. First, marry well. I did so almost six years ago and I never have regretted it. Marriage to a beautiful, kind, patient, gracious, servant-hearted woman makes every mistake I make tolerable and gets me through the toughest seasons of my own stupidity. Second, I learned a valuable lesson about procrastination that I will tell you some other time.