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Church Planting Conference. Well, um. I was looking forward to switching off. My brain was fried. People said good things mostly.

The person who led the bible study (A leading Sydney Evangelical who will not be named) was talking about prayer said something like:

"If you have something to say to God that takes three hours than by all means take three hours. If not, say what you have to say, then stop talking. Stop wasting your time and stop wasting God's."

Well, um, yep. I disagree. I doubt God doesn't have time for us. And if we want to pray, and He got the point the first time we said it, I'm sure He has no problem with us saying it again. It would be difficult to waste the time of the creator of time.

Anyway, the people who talked about church planting did good. I wouldn't mind being part of a church plant. I like building the Kingdom.

After lunch we had discussion groups. My group seemed to be a lot of ministers telling each other how bad their situation was. Except for one guy who kept being able to tell us how well his church was going. I didn't say anything the whole time. Infact I fell asleep three times, which is rather embarrassing, especially when you're in a circle and people are looking at you when you wake up.

I had small group in the evening. Only one person came. Steve and I sat around and chatted with them. We talked about muggings, fights, bashings, police, cars, and girls. Can you tell it's male small group?

Pub happened. Lovely.

And Blu happened too. I had Mars Bar pancake which was great. We left the cafe in high spirits. Some people went home (Ryan, Chris, Jem, Anmol and Julian).

It was off to Woolworths for David, Howie, Jo, Rach, Kaye and I. Rach and I had a race to Westfield on our heals. On the escalator, I started to feel a bit funny. As I walked past the nut shop talking to David I thought I was going to vomit. By the sushi place I decided I better head for the toilets. But I didn't make it. I vomited into my hand and on my clothes. What the...? Damn it. Where did that come from? One minute I was fine, the next, revisiting my Mars bar crepe. I liked it but not that much.

I went to the toilets and did my best to clean myself up. Then went to Woolworths feeling like an idiot, looking like a drunk and smelling like vomit. Gross.

I walked home with Howie, and felt fine. I think all my tiredness must have just got to me and stomach said "Oi, watch me do a trick!" Really I just felt stupid. And I smelt. Oh well.

Perhaps these things happen to everyone?

Praise the Lord!