A couple of weeks ago when I posted that I was heading out of town to pursue a few potential options regarding what I might do now that I am finished seminary, I was intentionally vague. Saying I was heading 'out of town' was hardly sufficient to describe the scope of the journey I actually went on, because my travels didn’t just take me out of town, but out of the country. And more, I didn’t just leave the country, I left the continent. I actually spent a week in the United Kingdom.

Not many of you will know, but I have been in conversation with a few churches there over the past several months, and just a few days ago I accepted a position as an assistant minister at a church in England. So, we are moving to the other side of the Atlantic. But all of this needs a little background before I get to the details.

For the last ten years or so as I have contemplated where and how God might use me in ministry, I have thought that someday, somehow I would try to find an opportunity to serve the church in Europe. I have a number of friends serving in different European countries right now and am aware of how much need there is for the gospel in Europe. Greater Europe Mission, an organisation that one of my friends serves with, reports that less than two percent of Europeans are evangelical Christians. That is a staggering statistic for a continent which once claimed the name of Christendom. The UK fares a little better, with evangelicals making up about five or six percent of its population. Nonetheless, with the vast majority of the population apathetic toward the gospel and a continuing influx of people from other parts of the world who have had little contact with Christianity, Europe has become a major mission field.

When we moved to Florida in 2007 and I began my studies at Reformed Theological Seminary, one of the first people I met was an Englishman. Over the next few months as we chatted and got to know each other, he began to encourage me to think about getting involved in ministry in the UK. 'You wouldn't have to learn another language, and since you come from Canada you likely won’t find the culture that foreign,' he told me. But the thought had only lingered in the back of my mind until about a year ago when Robin and I began to really consider the possibility. The idea grew on us, and as we began to pray about it we started to think that maybe this was something we should pursue.

In February of this year, I began to make contact with some different people and organisations I knew in the UK to see if there was any real possibility of working with a church there. Within just a few days I started to receive replies from a few people wanting to talk further and discuss some different options. After some good conversations via email and Skype, I decided it was time to make a trip over there, and so from 2 to 9 June, I flew over to visit a couple of churches to seriously explore some of those options.

As you might suspect by this point, the trip was very good. Here are the details, then – I’ve accepted a position as an assistant minister at St John Newland Church (which is the church in the photo above), in the city of Hull (about 150 miles north of London). In addition to traditional ministerial responsibilities such as preaching, I will be responsible for coordinating various community outreach projects. There will be many different ways in which we can serve at St John's because by UK standards, the church is a something of a 'mega-church', with an average attendance of around 250 on Sundays. I know that this will be an excellent fit for me; I got on very well with the ministers there during the week I spent with them. They are solid, godly men, and I resonate deeply with their vision and the mission of St John's. I was also taken by the warmth of the church community and their shared desire to be witnesses of Jesus Christ.

For those of you who know anything about England, Hull does not really top the list of cities to visit in the UK – although I would say that after spending a week there, the stereotypes are exaggerated. But Hull does come very near the top of the list if you are ranking the least-churches cities in the country, claiming one of the lowest percentages of church attendance in Britain. In other words, there is a lot of work to be done there, and a church as solid and faithful as St John's is, I believe, the best thing for the city. We are looking forward to joining the church in serving this city.

Now, it won’t take you long to discover that St John’s is an Anglican congregation. The Church of England is in bad shape on many levels, not least in its departure from historic orthodoxy. However, there are still a few very good churches there contending for traditional, Reformed expressions of orthodoxy, of which St John’s is one. It may surprise you that I am making this move, given my background, but there are a few reasons I have chosen to do so (which I may elaborate on in the future), in addition to the fact that I've been drifting toward the Anglican evangelical tradition over the past few years.

First, if you are Reformed and paedo-baptist, there really is no other option in England. Second, an issue like church polity is a grey area from my perspective – I’ve not been persuaded up to this point that Scripture clearly reveals one form of government over another; it's a secondary or even tertiary issue for me (to borrow from Richard Pratt's 'cone of certainty'). And third, there is a sense in which the Church of England remains the best avenue for reaching the community – having been a part of British culture for so long, many people are still accepting of it and turn to their local parish church for certain things, even if just weddings and funerals. But that is a point of contact, and a great opportunity to reach out to people. In the end, of course, the denomination is not the church, and so despite what may be happening there, St John's has remained faithful and I am looking forward to the privilege of serving with and alongside this church.

Timetables and dates are subject to things outside of our control, such as how quickly visas are processed, but right now it looks like we might be able to be in Hull and begin work there sometime in October. We ask for your prayers in these next few months as we prepare to make this move and make our new home in England. We also ask for your prayers in the coming years as we minister to God's people at St John's and in the city of Hull. Our only desire is that God would use us and the congregation of St John's to faithfully proclaim that Jesus Christ is Lord, and to make known the good news of the Kingdom of God.

I'm heading to the airport later this morning to fly out of town for about a week. Some things have popped up on the radar in the last couple of months with respect to what I might do now that I am finished seminary, and I'll be meeting with few different people to discuss those options.

A few days ago I had a couple of posts on the go, but the power went off here at the house and I lost them and just haven't had the time to write them again. When I return I will resume normal posting, and hopefully have an update on our plans.

Prayers for safe travel are appreciated, as well as that the Lord would make his leading clear.

Below is a picture of my 1994 Mazda 626 DX as it looked in 2006. I bought the car in August of 2002, and have put over 100,000 miles on the odometer. It's parked in my driveway right now with 193,200 (about 311,000km), and I won't be logging any more miles on it. Unfortunately, it has run into some mechanical problems that would not be worth fixing. I put an ad up on Craigslist yesterday, was completely honest about the problems, and have already had three emails from potential buyers.

This was my first car. I worked hard for several summers before college saving up for a car, and my uncle and aunt were very gracious to sell the car to me for quite less than it was worth at the time so that it would fit in my budget. The car has been fantastic, and a real pleasure to own. It's a 5-speed, and at the time I hadn't had a great deal of experience driving a manual, except on a tractor. But I drove it the 200km home to Hamilton from their house in Peterborough, including an entertaining ride through rush hour stop-and-go traffic on the 401 through Toronto (which, having the notorious reputation of being North America's busiest stretch of highway, was great practice). Though the four-cylinder wasn't powerful by any means, I couldn't have been happier when I started dating a girl from Grand Rapids, Michigan, and began bi-weekly trips back and forth to visit her in the summer. That 4-cylinder, 5-speed combination netted me a consistent 34-35mpg at highway speeds. My best was a trip up and down western Ontario—Hanover to Sheffield to Tobermory to Hamilton—a total distance of 827km, in which the car got 37.9mpg.

The car was always a pleasure to drive. It sat comfortably, felt solid on the road, and rode smoothly, especially on the highway. Being 6'4", I needed a car with a good amount of room, and the 626 was great. The clutch was light and it shifted well. On the snowy roads of Ontario in winter, it was always predictable, even being front-wheel drive. And speaking of winter, it almost never got stuck in the snow.

As I said, the car was never fast, but that also never stopped me from trying. In my younger, immature days, I raced a number of cars down the highway and off the line from traffic lights. My favorite memory was a girl in a Mustang GT convertible who pulled up beside me and started revving the engine. I laughed a bit, but had no intention of racing a car I knew I'd never beat. However, when the light turned green, she stalled it and so I won without even trying. At the next traffic light, she did not pull up beside me.

Also, I remember reading online that the 626 did not have a governed top speed. It took me awhile to build up the courage to determine if that was in fact true. One sunny day, with an open stretch of road ahead of me and my good friend, John Boks, in the passenger's seat, I dropped it into third gear and mashed the accelerator. Third gear was always great in the car when it hit the powerband—around 3000-4000rpm—and we watched the speedometer climb, 120, 130, 140km/h. By the time 4th gear ran out we had passed 180km/h (most governed cars are limited to about 175) and were still going. The car ran out of steam in 5th, right around the time the needle passed 195km/h (121mph).

Most of the time, though, I enjoyed the comfort of the car. For a base model with few options, it drove and rode very well. In addition to the many trips to Michigan, the car has been to North Carolina, New York City, and back and forth to Florida twice. I never once hesitated to get in and drive long distances.

But as with anything, over the years the car took some hits, both literally and figuratively. In the first few weeks I owned it, some fool on a riding lawnmower left the blades turned on as he pulled onto the shoulder, and I heard numerous pieces of gravel ricochet off the quarter panel. Another gravel-induced wound is on the windshield, a fair-sized crack courtesy of a gravel truck I was passing on the 402 just east of Sarnia. A very petite young girl driving a very big 3/4-ton Dodge Ram pickup backed into the car in the Redeemer parking lot, putting a sizeable dent in the right-front. Sidebar on that—she never owned up to it, but a friend of mine and myself figured it out. Also, the over-salting of the roads in winter subjected it to some rust, and the intense Florida sun has quickly destroyed the paint. Orlando's heavy stop-and-go traffic has certainly not helped the car either.

And so the end of the road has come. I just don't want to put any more money into the car. The other day I was driving and one of the cylinders stopped firing. After changing spark plugs, wires, and so on, it still didn't fire. Process of elimination leads me to think it's the distributor itself, or a faulty fuel injector. With other age- and mileage-related problems accumulated as well, it's time for something else.

There are a lot of memories in this car, though, and it will be hard to see her go. It's already a little disheartening to see her sitting parked in the driveway. But it is time. You will be missed, faithful friend.

It's not my usual practice to use this space to fill you in on all the details of my life, but last week was a break from the usual routine. I spent most of the week in Ontario visiting family and serving as a good friend's groomsman in his wedding. It really was nice to get away for a few days (and a quick interjection—if you're looking to get away for a few days and want to fly within the United States, I highly recommend Southwest Airlines. I've not flown much, but was very impressed with their service). Just a few observations, then.

It was good to experience some real autumn weather again. It was low to mid-50s while I was there, and had the appropriate mix of sun, clouds, and drizzle to make it feel like fall. The only unpleasant day happened to be the one I spent playing golf with my friend and some others. We gave up after nine holes; a windy, rainy 48°F had us shivering and soaked to the bone. It didn't help that the course was difficult and long—the second hole was 590 yards.

My friend and his new wife were apprehensive all week about the forecast because the wedding was to be outdoors. It didn't look good at first, as the forecasters called for rain on Saturday. However, it was nothing short of divine orchestration when the day arrived. It stopped raining at 9:30am when the chairs arrived to be set up, and didn't rain again until just after the photographer snapped her last photo at 4:30pm. To top it off, the sun peeked out behind the clouds to shine on the wedding as they recited their vows. Some would label that a coincidence, but the precise timing of it was certainly something more than that.

I spent some time reading in the library at my alma mater, Redeemer University College. For whatever reason, I need very specific environments in which to get reading done, and Redeemer's library was always conducive to that. Thankfully, it hasn't changed, and I got a lot done. It was rather strange, however, to walk around the school and not recognize any faces, and further, that the only people I still know and friends I have there are professors.

The highlight of the weekend, of course, was seeing two good friends pledge their love to each other and covenant before the Lord to live their lives in faithfulness to one another. What added to the beauty of the wedding was the pastor who married them (my former pastor at New City Church) delivering an incredibly Gospel-centered message to an audience of which at least half did not know the Lord. I'm not sure I have ever heard the Gospel preached so clearly and honestly as I did in those eight minutes this past Saturday. His message began by emphasizing that the love between husband and wife is reflective of Christ and His Church, and in the next few minutes unpacked why that love was so different, unique, and beautiful. He then very directly stated that if you did not understand that love, you could not know what true love was, and ended by pointing to Christ as the only one in whom that love is found. It was a great encouragement and a great challenge.

Normal life resumed today again, although with some sad news. I received a call from my family saying that they had to put the family dog down. She lived a good life of 12 1/2 years, but unfortunately old age had caught up with her. She was a faithful friend, and we're all going to miss her.

That will be about it for the personal updates. Look for more traditional posting to resume here in the next few days as I dig back into my reading for the semester.

Evghenis has asked me to share the way in which I proposed to Robin this past New Year's Eve. So I shall do that. I had plans drawn up in my mind of how I would go about it, but as always, plans are useless. I had wanted to take Robin out for a nice lunch, and then we were going to go skating after that. So here's what happened.

We went to downtown Grand Rapids, Michigan (where she lives), and there was one particular restaurant that I had seen that past summer where I wanted to take her. But it was closed. We then found of that almost every restaurant downtown was closed until 4pm when it opened for the New Year's crowd. So we ended up eating at some place called the Dogpit, some lousy hot dog joint that served over-priced-worse-than-grocery-store- variety hot dogs.

Then we went skating. Or attempted to. It started to rain, and I had lousy skates that I couldn't get tight enough, with plastic inserts that were destroying my ankles. Her skates were fine. But about 20 minutes on the ice and the Zamboni was going to come out to resurface the ice. We then decided that we didn't want to skate anymore.

We walked across a bridge to the other side of the river where we took a walk outside the Gerald R. Ford Museum. There are some pathways there that go along the river (one of which is pictured here). We were walking along, and I was about to stop and propose, but then this guy came popping out of the bushes who had been fishing. Then once he walked past us, the area smelled like rotting fish so we kept walking. I finally found a good spot, and got down on my knee and asked her. She was quite surprised. But it turned out well in the end. It was by no means the "perfect" proposal. It's kind of odd, but the spot I ended up asking her was right outside the place where President and Mrs. Ford will be buried when they die.