235 Miles
I woke up with a start in Mt. Vernon; it was Conference Day One! Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann started his first lecture at 4:15, and I did not want to miss a word. A look out the window confirmed that the motorcycle was still there. None of my tweets had made it to Twitter the day before. A call to T-Mobile and hard reset of the phone fixed the issue, and before long I was ready to go. The map and fluid levels were checked one more time; after a quick stop for gas, the last ride east began.Traffic on Interstate 57 started slowly. The speed picked up around Marion, and then I had been moving right along for about 5 miles when a guy in a pick up truck pulled up next to me waving wildly. We both pulled over and he let me know that I had lost my spare gas tank off of the back of the motorcycle. Thankfully no one had hit it, but it was not salvageable. Truck man was a rider as well, and we stood on the side of the road and talked about motorcycles for almost a half an hour.
I pulled off the highway in Paducah, Kentucky for gas and the front brake seized up at a red light. I was not ready for mechanical delays this close to Nashville. Pumping the brake lever furiously seemed to work the caliper loose, and I was able to pull into the service station. After getting gas, everything seemed to be fine, so I said a prayer and pulled back onto the highway.
Just outside of Clarksville, Tennessee, the rain started to fall again. I pulled off at the first exit and begged for garbage bags, but they really didn’t help. The last 50 miles to Nashville was a baptism. Thankfully it was not too cold. The freeway traffic in Nashville was bumper to bumper so by the time I pulled into Lipscomb’s campus, Dr. Fleer was giving his welcome speech and introducing Dr. Brueggemann. I dripped my way to registration, changed clothes, and took a seat in the back.
Dr. Brueggemann was amazing. His presentation was manuscripted so it sounded understandably like his books read. But to hear the good Dr. present the material in person was a treat. His work is a vacuum of fluff. The man can preach.Chris Goldman and Walter Surdaki found me drying off in the back, and took me by a Laundromat on our way to dinner. It was great to catch up with those guys. We stopped into Starbuck’s on the way to the next session, and who should amble in and sit down next to us but Brian McLaren! We introduced ourselves and made a little small talk, but McLaren was checking email so we didn’t bother him too much.
Jerry Taylor preached Thursday night, and inspired as usual. Taylor has to be one of the most solid preachers in our movement at this time. He thoroughly understands himself, his craft and his audience, and most importantly his relationship with God is evident both in the act of preaching and in his personal life.
It was late when I finally pulled down the driveway at the McCool’s house. Raleigh McCool interned at PUMP last summer, and was an excellent example of a thoughtful servant leader. The McCools graciously agreed to host me while I was in Nashville. When I walked in the house I met the family, was handed a nice warm cup of good coffee, and immediately felt at home. We talked for awhile; I got a tour of the house which ended at the bed in which I was going to sleep, and soon after that I got busy sleeping.
