Dan Olinger

"If the Bible is true, then none of our fears are legitimate, none of our frustrations are permanent, and none of our opposition is significant."

Dan Olinger

Chair, Division of Biblical Studies & Theology,

Bob Jones University

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Archives for November 2022

Unstable World, Stable God, Part 4: No Need to Aspire 

November 28, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s True | Part 2: Jesus Included | Part 3: No Need to Grow 

Another reason that God doesn’t change, again based on his perfection, is that he doesn’t aspire to anything he doesn’t already have. 

Now that we’re past Thanksgiving here in the States, the Christmas season is in full swing. Decorations are going up, lights are adorning the houses, and the retailers, who live or die by Christmas sales, are blasting their names out of every media outlet, hoping beyond hope that customers will come streaming into their stores, whether physical or virtual.

And those customers—assuming they show up—are there, mostly, for the children, the ones with visions of sugar plums, and Barbie Little Dream Houses, and Jurassic World Inflatable T-Rexes dancing in their heads.

There’s a part of me that heaves a sigh of relief that our children are grown now. And yet there’s another part that remembers those times fondly—the looks on their little faces when they saw the Hot Wheels tricycle or the big doll house or the lights on the Christmas tree or (later) the French onion clam dip with all the chips they wanted.

There’s something special about a little child’s scrawled Christmas list, and there’s something in every parent—I really think there is—that wants to get them everything they’re asking for. As a parent of young children I was honestly surprised at how aggressively tempted I was to spoil them.

I’m not talking about the bratty child in the grocery store checkout line who screams when he doesn’t get the candy he sees there. I’m talking about the stars in the eyes of the little beloved one who really wants something, over time, in an extraordinary way.

When our kids were small, I was planning a summer vacation and asked if there was any place in particular they’d like to go. The younger one, who was maybe 9 or 10, said, without hesitation, “Chicago.”

I thought it odd that a child of that age would have such a strong preference for a specific large city, so I asked, “Why?”

She said, “That’s where the American Girl Doll Place is.”

Aha.

So that summer our travel loop included the Windy City, and we spent a full day at the AGDP.

We also ate at our first Cheesecake Factory there. I think they liked that even better.

We love our children, and we love their aspirations—not just for Christmas gifts, but for life. Later I bought that same younger daughter a Middle English grammar, because she really wanted one. And her love for the Medieval has had far-reaching consequences in her life.

I remember taking the older daughter to her first opera at age 6—how at the overture she scooted forward in her seat and didn’t move for the rest of the performance, drinking it all in. That, too, changed her life.

Just as we want our progeny to mature and grow, we also want them to aspire, to reach, to advance, because we know that without aspiration of some kind, people fall far short of their potential.

But here’s the thing. God is fundamentally different. He doesn’t have aspirations for himself. He doesn’t need to improve his providential leadership skills. He doesn’t need to learn something new, just to broaden his mind. He doesn’t need to travel. He doesn’t need to learn a new language. He doesn’t need to read more kinds of books.

God doesn’t need anything. He is utterly complete in himself.

And that makes it all the more puzzling, amazing, that a long time ago he created. He created the cosmos, filled with all kinds of beauty and power. And in that cosmos, on (as far as we know) just one of its planets, he created life, along with all the elements and compounds necessary to sustain it. And into one species of that life, he placed his very own image.

And for that species, he aspires. He wants them—us—to achieve great things, big things, eternally significant things. He provides us with all the physical and spiritual power to do so.

Do you know the one thing that the Bible says that God “seeks”?

He seeks human beings, to worship him. He seeks them so committedly that in the person of his Son he became one of them, forever. And it is that God-Man who has told us this (Jn 4.23).

God doesn’t change, because he doesn’t aspire for himself.

But he does aspire for us.

Part 5: No Greater Force | Part 6: No Decay | Part 7: Trustworthiness | Part 8: Mercy | Part 9: Confidence | Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

On Thanksgiving

November 24, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Here’s my annual Thanksgiving post.

Photo credit: Wikimedia

Filed Under: Culture, Personal, Worship Tagged With: gratitude, holidays, Thanksgiving

Unstable World, Stable God, Part 3: No Need to Grow

November 21, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s True | Part 2: Jesus Included

God doesn’t change.

But why?

I’d suggest that we approach this question through the back door. Let’s think about why other things do change, and then postulate that God is not like those other things.

I suppose the first reason for change that would occur to us is the one that’s right before our eyes, every day.

We see children changing all the time—and if we don’t see those children every day, then the change is all the more apparent when we do see them. Every day on social media I see someone ask, “How can my child be 3 [or 9, or 15] already?!” These days parents of small children have taken to buying a blanket with numbers on it, and taking a photo every month with their child lying on the blanket, and the appropriate number circled.

They change so fast.

And while we teasingly ask them to stay little forever, we really don’t want that.

We really, REALLY don’t want that.

We don’t want them to be helpless and dependent forever—if for no other reason than that we’re likely to be helpless and dependent someday, and we want somebody making the decisions who knows and loves us. And who owes us. :-)

We revel in the things our growing children learn and the skills they acquire.

First it’s as simple a thing as rolling over, then sitting up, then standing, cruising, walking, running.

And then catching a baseball, or executing a grand jete or a tai otoshi, or graduating summa cum laude, or any of those other italicized things out there.

People need to change because they start out so limited in their knowledge and skills. Because they are, in that sense, imperfect, uncompleted.

Even as adults we feel the need to keep learning and growing. The first day at a new job we feel intimidated and useless, asking lots of questions and feeling clumsy both physically and intellectually. We love progressing to the point where we know what we’re doing and we accomplish it well.

We read books. We watch YouTube videos. We take adult education classes. We travel.

Always growing. Till the day we die.

Why is that? Why the constant push to get better—at the things we’re already doing, or at new things we’ve never tried before?

Simple.

Because we’re incomplete, undeveloped, short of our potential. We have things to learn. We can always get better at something.

Okay, we’re in the back door; now let’s take it out on the front porch, where everyone can see it.

One reason that God doesn’t change is that he doesn’t need any of what we’ve just described.

He doesn’t need to grow; he doesn’t need to mature; he doesn’t need to get better at anything.

He has always existed, and he has always existed in perfection. He didn’t need his infinite past to get infinitely good at an infinite number of things; he has always been infinitely good at everything. It’s his nature; he can’t be less than perfectly good, and great, and wise. There’s nothing he had to learn, no skill he had to polish.

That means that he satisfies your needs perfectly now; he won’t be better at it later. You never need to wait for a “better time” to go to him with this or that problem or request.

That also means that his will for you is perfect right this minute; he won’t have to change it later because he realized something then that he doesn’t realize now.

He doesn’t change, because he’s perfect.

What a liberating and peace-giving truth.

Part 4: No Need to Aspire  | Part 5: No Greater Force | Part 6: No Decay | Part 7: Trustworthiness | Part 8: Mercy | Part 9: Confidence | Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

Unstable World, Stable God, Part 2: Jesus Included

November 17, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: It’s True

Everything changes, except God.

The Psalmist meditates lyrically on this idea:

24 I said, O my God, take me not away in the midst of my days: Thy years are throughout all generations. 25 Of old hast thou laid the foundation of the earth: And the heavens are the work of thy hands. 26 They shall perish, but thou shalt endure: Yea, all of them shall wax old like a garment; As a vesture shalt thou change them, and they shall be changed: 27 But thou art the same, And thy years shall have no end. 28 The children of thy servants shall continue, And their seed shall be established before thee (Ps 102.24-28).

Generations change. Heaven and earth change. But not God.

And because God is changeless, his children will continue, because his promises last forever.

Incidentally, the writer of Hebrews applies this passage to Jesus (He 1.10-12). He’s listing a number of passages from the Hebrew Scripture that demonstrate that the Son is greater than the angels—

  • For unto which of the angels said he at any time, Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee? And again, I will be to him a Father, and he shall be to me a Son? (He 1.5, citing Ps 2.7, 2S 7.14).
  • And again, when he bringeth in the firstbegotten into the world, he saith, And let all the angels of God worship him (He 1.6, citing Dt 32.43 in the Septuagint).
  • Unto the Son he saith, Thy throne, O God, is for ever and ever: a sceptre of righteousness is the sceptre of thy kingdom (He 1.8, citing Ps 45.6).

And then he cites this passage from Psalm 102.

And he’s not done. He begins his epistle/sermon with this idea, and he ends it with the same idea:

  • Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever (He 13.8).

Bookending a document with parallel ideas like that is called an inclusio, and among other things it tells us that this idea is a key part of the writer’s message.

Now, this is surprising, because we all know that at a point in time the Son, who was always God, took on human flesh and became incarnate—permanently. He lived on earth, and died, and rose again, and ascended back to the Father. We could say, to use the terminology of Hebrews 13.8, that “yesterday” he was the Creator and Redeemer, and “today” he is our Mediator and Intercessor, and “forever” he will be our King.

How is that not change?

That’s a good question.

Part of our problem understanding this is that it involves the biblical teaching of the Trinity, the very nature of the Godhead, and our finite minds are just not good at wrapping themselves around it. (If you think you understand it, then there’s something you’re missing.)

The standard view is that Jesus added to his eternal, and unchanging, divine nature a human nature that had not been there before.

How does that work?

Well, some of the smartest people on the planet wrestled with that question for 400 years, and when they were done, they chose to state what happened but to not even try to explain how it happened.

You and I are probably not going to do better than that.

But however it all works, this we know: God is the same. He is faithful. He will never forget. He will never leave. He will never change.

This isn’t just some theological abstract coming down from an ivory tower somewhere. This is highly practical, every day, and truly life changing.

I’d like to consider two questions for the rest of this series:

  • Why does God not change?

and

  • What difference does his changelessness make—to me?

Next time.

Part 3: No Need to Grow | Part 4: No Need to Aspire  | Part 5: No Greater Force | Part 6: No Decay | Part 7: Trustworthiness | Part 8: Mercy | Part 9: Confidence | Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

Unstable World, Stable God, Part 1: It’s True

November 14, 2022 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

The world’s gone crazy, hasn’t it?

Culture has changed. Government has changed. Politics has changed. Society has changed. Church has changed.

Some would observe that this is nothing new, that these things change constantly. And indeed they do.

But it does seem as though the pace of change is accelerating, doesn’t it?

  • As my father aged, it occurred to me that when he was born on his father’s homestead ranch in Idaho in 1918, everyday life was pretty much the same as it was in Abraham’s day: you got water from the well or the river; you grew your food in the dirt just outside the house; you plowed your fields with oxen; you did your excretory business in a hole in the ground. But before he died, he and I sat down at my computer, pulled up Google Earth, and revisited the homestead virtually. He showed me which side of Sandy Creek the ranch was on, and we “stood” there and looked up at the Continental Divide, just a couple of miles east.
  • An internet meme observes that it was only 66 years—shorter than my lifespan—from the Wright brothers’ first flight at Kitty Hawk to the moon landing. And the SR-71 Blackbird was introduced 3 years before that.
  • And the sociosexual changes in the last 20 years in the US would have been unimaginable even when I embarked on my working life after graduate school.

Closer to home, there’s change in our individual lives as well: you change jobs; you change bosses; you change residences; you face a financial setback; a family member dies; your marriage breaks up.

I see a lot of angst over this.

A lot of people are bewildered, scared, frustrated about all this change.

And they should be. The change is real and often devastating, and we’re not designed to live in constant chaos.

The Scripture doesn’t ignore this problem, and it doesn’t try to “pep talk” us out of our distress with platitudes. But it does offer two truths that can stabilize us despite the instability of our world.

The first is the simple fact that instability is temporary. Most of us find that we can endure all kinds of things if there’s light at the end of the tunnel. (And yes, we all know the joke about the oncoming train.) The brokenness of our world, which is the cause of its instability and pain, has already been reckoned with, and Scripture promises an eventual onset of permanent peace, shalom (Re 21.1-7)—regardless of your eschatological system. :-)

That’s not pie in the sky, meant to keep the proletariat in bondage; it’s the promise of God.

Which brings me to the second truth, and the focus of this series.

God doesn’t change.

I change; you change; our loved ones change, as do our friends, our suppliers, our lawyers, our pastors, and every one of our circumstances.

But not God.

He can’t.

His very nature is to be stable, to be steady, to be faithful, to be reliable.

Theologians call this divine attribute “immutability”—God doesn’t mutate. It’s closely associated with his attribute of faithfulness. The Hebrew word for the latter is ‘emunah, the source of our word “Amen”—“may it ever be so.”

Interestingly, this idea is part of the personal name that God chose for himself; as he told Moses at the burning bush, “I AM THAT I AM” (Ex 3.14). He says, “This is my name for ever, and this is my memorial unto all generations” (Ex 3.15). In context, God’s point is that centuries earlier he had made promises to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and now he was going to see that those promises were kept—the descendants of those patriarchs were now going to enter the land that God had promised them.

Faithful. That’s essentially his name.

More to come.

Part 2: Jesus Included | Part 3: No Need to Grow | Part 4: No Need to Aspire  | Part 5: No Greater Force | Part 6: No Decay | Part 7: Trustworthiness | Part 8: Mercy | Part 9: Confidence | Part 10: Victory

Photo by Taylor Deas-Melesh on Unsplash

Filed Under: Theology Tagged With: systematic theology, theology proper

The World’s Most Unusual Trip, Part 3

November 10, 2022 by Dan Olinger 2 Comments

Part 1 | Part 2

I’m at the End of the Line on the MBTA, with no transportation. At 1 am.

This is amusing. At every step of this process, I’ve made the most sensible choice—or at least a reasonably good one. But it’s just gotten ridiculouser and ridiculouser all along the way.

There are no hotels within 2 miles. Mine is 6.3 miles away, but I’ve told them to hold my reservation despite my late arrival, and I really don’t want to pay for a second hotel room and still have to walk 2 miles to get to it.

“Hey, Siri. Get me to my hotel. Walking.”

In the rain.

It’s a straight shot north to my hotel through Auburndale—an affluent village in my old hometown of Newton—and Waltham. As I walk, I total up my blessings—

  • The land is reasonably flat.
  • The temperature is mild.
  • The streets are empty and quiet.
  • All my luggage is in my backpack; I’m not wheeling a suitcase. Or two.
  • I have an umbrella.
  • I have a phone with battery life left, and a laptop I can use to charge it if I need to.
  • I have healthy legs to walk with, including pain-free joints. At 68, that’s nothing to take for granted.
  • I have a healthy back to carry the backpack.
  • I’m going to have a lot of fun telling this story.

Along the way I find myself laughing at the absurdity of it all.

I’m a visibly older man walking through an affluent neighborhood—with a backpack—in the rain—at 2 in the morning. Don’t you think some policeman, somewhere, would feel the need to go over and talk to this guy?

Where’s a cop when you need one? A ride in the back seat of a cruiser would actually be pretty nice right now.

Long story short, I arrive at my hotel at 3.30 am. They ask for ID. I explain that I lost my ID on the trip up, but I do have a state-issued photo ID in the form of a SC Concealed Weapons Permit. They’re hesitant—I wonder if it’s because this is Massachusetts, after all, and do we really want this gun nut staying here?—but eventually they decide it’s good enough, and they give me a room key.

I unpack my backpack to let everything dry out, and I fall into bed.

I can’t sleep.

_____

I think about getting back home without a license.

I have several options—

  • To fly, I’ll need some kind of ID. Since I’ll be here for 4 days, I could have my wife FedEx my passport.
  • I could take the train; they require less ID, and I’ve always wanted to take a train trip in one of those suites with a bed and a shower. I’d have to leave sooner, since the train takes longer, but that would be fun.
  • I could take the bus. That’s, um, my last choice.

The next morning I look into the options. Amtrak doesn’t seem to match my schedule. Don’t wanna take the bus. I’ll have the passport sent up.

Oh, and I fire up my Uber app, and it works fine. No idea why it didn’t work last night, when I needed it.

Thanks to my wife’s diligence, my passport arrives Saturday morning, just as I’m about to leave for the daytime reunion activities.

The reunion is great. My Greenville classmate and his wife kindly give me a ride, and all of us have a great time reminiscing. One of my classmates is a cop; I tell him my story, and he tells me that the passport shipment was probably unnecessary; I can probably fly back with the concealed carry permit or the other state-issued ID, which I’m not telling you about.

I take an Uber to and from church on Sunday, and spend Monday morning in downtown Boston, touching old bases. I eat lunch at the Pahkah House, wheah they invented Pahkah House rolls and Boston Creme Pie. I have a lobstah roll. It’s delightful.

I fly back Monday afternoon. The passport gets me through security fine, of course. As I come out the other side, I see a TSA desk and amble over to it. I tell them I have a question, just out of curiosity. I show them  my 2 state-issued photo IDs and ask, “Would either of these have been sufficient ID to get through the checkpoint?”

“Nope. Good thing you had the passport.”

“I have a friend here who’s a cop. He said he thought these would be enough.”

“Enough for your friend, maybe. Not enough for us.”

OK then.

BOS to DCA to GSP. My lovely wife is waiting at the curb. Great to be home.

Yeah, I shoulda just grabbed a cab at the Boston airport.

Woulda, coulda, shoulda.

I was right. It is a lot of fun telling this story.

Photo by Phil Mosley on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal

The World’s Most Unusual Trip, Part 2

November 7, 2022 by Dan Olinger 3 Comments

Part 1

Can’t rent a car without a driver’s license.

OK. What are my options?

It’s after 10 pm.

  • I could grab a cab here—they still have cabs at airports, don’t they? But my hotel is in Waltham, way out by the beltway (I-95 / 128), and that would cost—well, I can afford it, especially with all the money I’m saving by not renting a car for 4 days, but it’s still more than I’d like to pay.
  • I could Uber, but that would be pretty expensive too.
  • I have two sisters in the area, but they’re each 2 hours away. I’m not going to ask them for a ride this time of night.
  • One of the people coming to the reunion is from Greenville. I text him—“Are you in Boston yet?” “Nope. Flying up in the morning.”
  • Could I get there on the T? (That’s the MBTA, or public transit system. I used to ride it all the time, but that was, well, 45+ years ago … .) I call my hotel and ask if I can get there on the T. “Oh, sure. Take the Purple Line and get off at the Waltham stop. It’s a bit of a walk, but not far.”

OK then. I don’t recall a Purple Line, but I’ll give it a try.

Catch the shuttle bus to the T station—Blue Line—buy a Charlie Card, and consult the map.

Oh—Charlie Card, you ask? There’s an old song—I think it was by the Kingston Trio—about a guy named Charlie who gets on the T and doesn’t have enough money to get off, so allegendly (yes, I meant to spell it that way) he’s still down there riding around.

Well, the map shows all the colors of lines I’m familiar with, plus, I’m glad to see, a Purple Line. I need to take the Blue Line down to State Street—that’s where D.L. Moody got saved in a shoe store—transfer to the Orange Line up to North Station, and then catch the Purple Fitchburg Line out to Waltham. No sweat.

At North Station—that’s wheah Bahston Gahden is—I hit a kiosk to add more rides to my Charlie Card. Oddly, I don’t see any way to get tickets for the Purple Line, so I find a T employee nearby. She tells me to go down that tunnel ovah theah, which leads to the Purple Line; I can get tickets theah.

OK. Down the tunnel, which opens out into a nice big terminal. The Purple Line, it turns out, is the commuter rail system. The terminal is deserted, the ticket offices closed. The board shows the next train out at 5.35 am.

Commuter rails don’t run at 11.30 pm.

So why did she tell me I could … oh, never mind.

OK. Maybe I can get pretty close on the subway. I find another T employee—this one’s sitting inside an official-looking cage, so he must know what he’s doing—and ask, what’s the nearest T station to this address in Waltham?

Riverside, he says.

That’s music to my ears. I used to ride the Riverside Line (Green Line D) to my house. I’m in familiar territory.

“Now, the line’s getting worked on, but you can get to Rivahside by taking the subway to Kenmoah and then catching a shuttle bus to Rivahside.”

“Any chance there will be cabs at Riverside after midnight?”

“Probably. But if not, you can just Ubah.”

Sure, that’ll work. Take the Green Line—either the Boston College route (B) or Cleveland Circle (C), whichever shows up first—to Kenmore and catch the shuttle bus.

OK.

Which I do. Off at Kenmore—that’s the Fenway Pahk stop—and look for a sign to the shuttle bus. There it is. Upstairs, and there’s the bus, waiting at the curb.

There’s one other guy on the bus. Not a lot of cash flow for this route this time of night.

It sits for half an hour before setting out. Reminds me of the intercity bus lines in Africa that just wait until they have enough passengers to make a profit before they leave. Schedules are fiction.

Well after midnight we leave the curb.

Now, this is a shuttle bus replacing a non-running subway line. So it travels the surface streets, with stoplights and all, and stops at all the subway stops along the way. Which makes it, um, slower than the subway. Which is why they built subways in the first place.

I mentioned there was one other guy on the bus. He’s going all the way to Riverside too. So we stop at all the stops, and nobody gets off, and nobody gets on. We pass Eliot, my old stop (BTW, it’s named for John Eliot, the colonial-era missionary to the Wampanoag tribe), and we arrive at Riverside just after 1.

No cabs.

I’m not surprised.

OK, let’s see if any Uber drivers are taking passengers this time of night.

I haven’t used my Uber app for a couple of years. First thing it tells me is that my credit card is expired. Oh, yeah, had to replace it after a possible security breach. I enter the data for the new card and see it listed in the app. The green checkmark is still on the old, deactivated card. I press the newly added card. No response. I press it again. Still no response.

I mash it several times, hard.

No response.

The app won’t let me select the useable card.

I open its info and make sure the data are correct. Try it again.

No response.

Well. Can’t use Uber.

It’s after 1 am, and it’s 6.3 miles to my hotel, and it’s raining.

To be continued, yet again.

Part 3

Photo by Phil Mosley on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal

The World’s Most Unusual Trip, Part 1

November 3, 2022 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Every so often on this blog I tell a story about an experience. I do that because I like to tell stories, and because some things just ought to be written down. This one has the advantage of being fresh in my mind, since it occurred just a couple weeks ago.

I graduated from high school in 1971. The 50th year was last year, but we didn’t have a reunion because of COVID. This year the class of ’72, which was the class I was originally supposed to graduate with, kindly invited ’71 to attend, and I realized that I could hang out with both classes at once. Can’t miss that opportunity.

I have siblings in the area, so I booked the flight up to Boston for Thursday, before the reunion on Saturday. BJU’s fall break was the next Monday and Tuesday—perfect. Scheduled the flight back for Monday. Scheduled both flights to avoid leaving early in the morning or arriving late at night.

So well thought out.

Checked in at GSP in plenty of time. Showed my driver’s license for ID and tried to keep from slowing up the line by throwing everything into the gray plastic tray as quickly as possible. No objections from the guy at the scanner screen. Again tried to keep from impeding the flow by gathering up my things quickly and getting out of the way.

In the process the lady next to me asked, “Is this yours?” It was a folded piece of paper that I’d put into my shirt pocket—with my driver’s license—while passing the ID check. “It was under my tray.”

“Yep, it’s mine. Many thanks!”

Remember that exchange.

Put my clothes back on—you know, belt and shoes—and grabbed a bite to eat before heading to the gate.

Flight left on time. Connecting at DCA (Washington) for BOS, with plenty of time to make the connection.

Half an hour from DC the pilot said there was heavy rain there and that we were going to circle for a while to see if it would clear up.

An hour later he said we were being diverted to Richmond.

Landed there and waited on a taxiway for an hour for a gate to open up so we could take on a little fuel. Understandable, since we weren’t even supposed to be there.

Got a gate and waited for a fuel truck. Refueled and waited for the little truck that pushes us back.

We were originally scheduled to land at DC about noon. Now it’s 3 pm.

Short flight to DC, where my connection had taken off 30 minutes before.

OK, that’s fine. There have to be more flights from DC to Boston today, and worst case, if there aren’t any seats, I can fly tomorrow—or rent a car and drive, if I have to.

Providence. It’s all good.

The line for the airline service desk is an hour long. OK, the storm has caused a lot of missed connections, and the folks are working as fast as they can. It’s still all good.

I see a flight at 10, getting into Boston at 11.30. That’s wicked late, as they would say, and I’m not crazy about driving an unfamiliar rental car all the way across town after dark, in the rain, but God’s on the throne, right?

To my surprise, the lady at the service desk gets me on an earlier flight, leaving in just a few minutes. Great!

The flight is delayed taking off, and it has to circle over Boston Hahbah for a while because of weather and general congestion, and it’s after 9 by the time we land and taxi to the terminal.

OK.

I don’t have any checked baggage—just a well-stuffed backpack—so I follow the “Ground Transportation” signs and grab the shuttle bus to the Cah Rental Centah.

The line there moves along well, and soon I’m showing my reservation and getting ready to go.

“All right, all I need now is to see your driver’s license.”

OK. Pull out the wallet.

No driver’s license.

Remember that conversation in security at GSP?

In my hurry I had slipped my license into my shirt pocket where that piece of paper was, and a few seconds later I had emptied my pockets into the plastic tray. The piece of paper had come out of the tray somehow and gotten under the tray behind mine. The lady noticed the paper and gave it to me.

Apparently my driver’s license is still inside the scanner at the Greenville airport.

Bummer.

Can’t rent a car. Got to go to plan B, which doesn’t actually, um, exist.

To be continued.

Part 2 | Part 3

Photo by Phil Mosley on Unsplash

Filed Under: Personal