This has already been the most difficult quarter of my Seminary career, and it is over.  Difficult, like a six-year-old trying to figure out just how he is going to get up the tree.

So, he goes into the garage and looks for hours for the right rope, gloves, chair, ladder, hammer, nails, and wood to try and get up onto that limb.  Then, he sets about the task of hammering steps in the trunk, while clinging to the ladder, hanging the rope from the limb (which apparently has no immediate purpose but is cool, and necessary for some distant purpose).  All of this is then done and his father comes out and tells him, “you know you are going to have to take all that off the tree and put it away before you can eat dinner, right?”

Do I feel like this quarter got me nowhere?  In some respect yes.  Which is hard to say.  I try, and I try to figure out the pedagogy of the men teaching me.  I try to find comfort in being reminded of the pitfalls of the theological task again.  I try to build and scrap together all I can remembering that there is a goal in sight.  It is tangible even if it seems fantastically out of reach.  I set about pulling out all the stops in trying to construct, and build-up this quarter into something grand, and in the end I end up being the child and father.

I childishly thought my efforts might produce a grand bastion in the trees.  Which means, I thought my work would be done.  But, it turns out there are three more quarters now that this one is finished (seeing as how I am in need of a summer term to finish this tree-house off).

This break is now the tearing down, in some way, of what was built, and the re-fitting for another ten weeks of building.  If anything, these weeks have given me a great desire for the Parousia.