Saturday, July 01, 2006

Knee-Deep In Bluegrass

Yesterday we made the big move from Lima to Wilmore, and officially began the "Beeson Pastor Experience". That's what I am apparently, a "Beeson Pastor" (a BP) because every where I go in town they seem to know what a Beeson Pastor is, and that it is "very prestigous" (a phrase I've heard about 30 times in less than 24 hours). I just thought I was getting a doctorate under a good scholarship. Needless to say, I'm just beginning to figure out that it's a little bit bigger than that. I guess I'm in the equivalent of a Rhodes Scholarship for Evangelical Christians. Although I've never considered myself all that conservative or evangelical (although, a couple of you would disagree given my thoughts on the Episcopalian Church... more on that in the next edition of "Ten Things"), somehow, I've ended up here. I guess I'll just enjoy the ride.

You might remember that when all of this started, I thought I was signing up for a three-year Doctorate of Ministry program that paid for by something called the "Beeson Institute for Biblical Preaching and Church Leadership" (the title is printed on the outside of the building). Somehow I ended up in an 11-month "pastoral leadership bootcamp" (which based upon the course schedule I just looked at today, probably isn't an understatement) where we basically study the principles of leadership, and see them in action. The program is residential, meaning that in a row of townhouses owned by the seminary, there are now 13 of us, complete with families, who are walking around looking dazed and confused about how, on earth, we got here.

Or maybe, that's just me.

Anyhow, the kids seem to love the move as us BP's seem to have brought about 2000 children with us, and all of them seem to be playing outside on a huge lawn out front of our townhouse (I'll post some pictures after I buy a digital camera... the one my parents gave us before Max was born just gave up the ghost). Max and Xavier love it that they already have 1998 new friends that seemingly want to play all the time. The are also fighting over the top bunk in their new bedroom. Xavier is shocked that apparently it not only rains in Kentucky, but that they speak English here too. Worlds are opening up, even as we speak.

Aimee went out and met some of the BP spouses last night (I hid out on the couch and read my Sports Illustrated, which is the first piece of literature not associated with leadership of any kind that I've touched in two weeks). She said they seemed very nice. All in all, I think she's starting to warm to the idea of this. According to her, we've embarked on a strange trip where it's like we've gone back to college with our kids. She likes the little townhouse we're in (although, given that we've got three bedrooms, two full baths, a living-room, a kitchen, you can't really call it "little") and we've already made a trip to the Wal-Mart in Nicholasville (about a 15 minute drive, which seems like a pain, until you remember that it takes about that long to get from our home in Lima to Meijer, which I make every Friday to grocery shop) to pick up stuff we forgot (like coffee filters and a toilet plunger).

I'm writing this from my study carol, because even though we have wireless internet here on campus, I can't figure out how to access it. There must be some secret code I'll learn about during the 16-hour orientation we'll be receiving on our computer (yep, you got it! Two eight-hour days doing nothing but learning how to use our new laptops.... looks like this time I'll be reading the entire manual). The facilities here are, quite frankly, second-to-none. I don't know what Frank Waldo Beeson did for a living, but the guy left more than enough coin for these people to do this entire program right. Between the classes, the traveling, the speakers (pretty outstanding array of folks we'll hear from), and the reading (the mounds and mounds of reading) this should be quite a year.

Anyhow, we arrived safe and sound. Hope you have a nice weekend. Catch you Monday for the next "Ten Things".

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