On the Trail

I wrote this in November 2007, only days after losing a city-wide election following 12 years of public service. I recently rediscovered it while studying to teach John 13.

       I met my daughter Katie for lunch in Arlington, and then drove to White Rock Lake in Dallas to run ... something I’d looked forward to for days. Being on that trail was so pleasant, I wondered if I’d enjoy it as much if I lived in Dallas and could run there all the time. I don’t know, but this run, only one day after I lost a citywide election bringing this phase of my government life to an end, felt like coming home. It felt like the future. It felt like what’s next.

       The trail around the lake was a soothing salve: the solitude; the familiarity; the chance to use my legs for fun instead of campaigning; the unfamiliarity and uniqueness of the surrounding neighborhoods; the anticipation of knowing I’d run here again someday soon; the close scheduling required to squeeze this indulgence into my busy day; the smugness I felt from knowing about a great place to run on dirt even in the big city; the winding path through trees and alongside the lake; the cool air that was brisk enough to refresh but warm enough for T-shirt and shorts; the way my knees felt good,  hinting that the future might be OK; the soothing voices from my iPod - first a podcast about running and then another by Erwin McManus about our calling as Christians to engage with society; the brilliant blue North Texas sky: the shared sense of purpose I got from other runners on the path even though we said nothing more than “Hi” as we passed each other; the arrows and race markings painted on the asphalt trail that reminded me of my many years of making the same marks for my own races; the irony – not the right word, the appropriateness - of running on an urban trail at the end of this political era and remembering the unmistakable call to public life I heard while running on a different urban trail on a similarly bright cloudless day, March 21, 1987 to be exact, in Washington Park in Denver.

       John 15:2 says, “Every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful;” an important concept to grasp when I’m in the middle of a pruning project.

       On the trail I thought about my satisfaction of knowing how much Cyndi believes in me; and knowing how jealous she’ll be that she isn’t here with me on this trail today; the confidence I get from our shared passions for running and teaching and giving our lives away; the anticipation of more opportunities to teach in my church in the coming months now that the campaign is over; the luxury of being able to run and workout and exercise – I’m blessed with the physical ability to do this and the discretionary time to devote to something so selfish; the freedom that fitness brings, as Cyndi so often reminds; the songs that played on my iPod following the podcasts that reminded me of the future and my desire to live a life less ordinary; the dreams of writing and publishing and sharing my heart in print; the shady cool contagious parts of the trail that wind through the trees into a different world and a different time; the sunny parts of the trail beside the lake where the lapping waves sound so exotic to my West Texas ears;

       Running on the White Rock trail reinforced my curiosity for adventures God has for us in the future, just around the bend and out of site; the thought that I can wear casual clothes every day now that I don’t have constituents to reassure; the wonder at where the weight of my life should be applied from now on; the thought that even the phrase “from now on” doesn’t make as much sense to me as it used to since I’ve learned to expect regular adjustments to my perfect plans; that I don’t anticipate anything I’m doing today to last “from now on.”

       I read in John 13 about a time when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and asked, “Do you understand what I have done for you?” I wrote in the margin of my Bible: “Almost never.” In my life, I seldom understand what Jesus has done for me in real time; only later when I look back can I hope to understand the significance.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

Ash Wednesday

       I attended an Ash Wednesday service this week. It was only my second time for such a thing; the other was ten years ago. This time, it was a combined service that brought together four churches: First Baptist (my church), First Methodist (our host), First Presbyterian, and Golf Course Road Church of Christ. Two of the churches observe Ash Wednesday every year, but the other two don’t.

       The Methodists made us feel very welcome. In fact, sitting side-by-side in our church clothes, we all looked alike. All four churches are too large to know everyone, so there was a bit of uncertainty whether the new person sitting next to you was one of us, or one of them. As it should be.

       Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the 40-day period of prayer and abstinence known as Lent. The name comes from the practice of placing ashes on the foreheads of worshipers as a reminder and celebration of human mortality, and as a sign of mourning and repentance to God. Through the years, I’ve seen people walking around with an ashen cross on their forehead, and I knew what it meant, but I didn’t participate. It never occurred to me. We always had something else to do at our own church.

       I’ve spent my entire life in Baptist churches, and Baptists don’t do liturgy. In fact, we run away from it as fast as we can. We don’t even like someone reading a printed prayer; if it isn’t improvised on the spot, we aren’t sure God pays attention. The closest we come to liturgy is when we do responsive readings from our hymn books, back when we used hymn books.

       Since it is so different from my upbringing, a liturgical service always catches me off balance. Liturgy is not magic. It can become stale and repetitious just like any form of worship. But being surprised by God is magic, however it happens.

       For me, this time, the surprise was how emotional I felt. I was in tears much of the time. I realized how much I needed this communal form of worship. I felt is deeply when we all read a prayer together, out loud, in unison. Most holy and merciful Father: We confess to you and to one another, and to the whole communion of saints in heaven and on earth, that we have sinned by our own fault in thought, word, and deed; by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. There is an element of surrender in reading a liturgy aloud. You end up saying things you aren’t brave enough to say on your own initiative.

       At the conclusion, I left the service quickly and quietly, working my way silently through the crowd and out the back door. I was too soft to talk to anyone. I turned off my audio book and drove home in silence because I wanted to linger in the moment a bit longer.

       Once I got home, Cyndi took one look at my marked forehead and said, “You’ve been seriously marked.” I looked at it in the mirror for the first time, and it looked like the minister had used one of those extra-large Magic Markers. “Well, I chose one of the Presbyterian ministers. I figured they had the most experience with this sort of thing.”

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

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Draw it Light

       We (Cyndi, Katie, two granddaughters, and me) spent four days before Christmas at Disney World, and one of the surprising highlights of our week was a drawing class taught by one of the Disney animators. We all drew Nick Wilde, the fox from Zootopia. Who knew that was even possible?

       The half-hour class was titled The Animation Experience at Conservation Station. When I first saw it on our list of things to do at Animal Kingdom, I assumed we three adults would stand in the back while the two granddaughters did the drawing. Of course, that isn’t what happened. When they let us inside the room we stayed in line like Disney trained us to do, and before I knew it, we were all sitting with lap boards and paper and pencils. Just like that.

       The paper they gave us has some faint blue marks on it. Once the class started, we used those blue lines as anchor points for our own pencil lines. That took the pressure off trying to get the perspectives and sizes right the very first time. But there was plenty of space for us to make a variety of interpretations. After the class was over, we all compared our drawings, and they were all alike, but they were all different.

       I enjoyed this class so much I trimmed my drawing to size and glued it inside my journal as a reminder of the experience.

       Our animation instructor gave us step-by-step instructions on how to illustrate the character, and we were all quite proud of our results. I’m sad that I didn’t remember the instructor’s name because he said several things that caused me to stop drawing and start writing his words in the corner of my paper. I’m a writer, not a drawer, after all. The ones I captured were: (1) “Draw it light until you get it right.”, (2) “Would you rather learn from your neighbor’s mistakes, or your own mistakes? Why wait on other people?” and (3) “Practice doesn’t make perfect. There is no perfect. Practice makes better.”

*   *   *   *   *

       “Draw it light until you get it right.” Our instructor encouraged us to make lots of light marks on our paper until we found what we wanted, then darken those marks to make the final drawing.

       It isn’t comfortable for most of us to have our nearly ready work on display where anyone can see it, even when the anyone is limited to whoever is sitting on the right and left. We prefer not to show what we think of as our mistakes. We’d rather present the finished work without any stray marks or eraser smudges.

       The problem with doing life that way is you risk never finishing anything. Or worse, never starting.

       The instructor’s advice is so much better than another phrase we use in similar situations: Fake it ‘till you make it. I’ve never liked that idea. I don’t want to fake it. It feels like I’m trying to fool people. Pull something over on them.

       Now, whenever I do something new, I hope the phrase that runs through my head will be: Draw it light until you get it right.

*   *   *   *   *

       “Would you rather learn from your neighbor’s mistakes or from your own? Why wait on other people? The key word here, is learn. It isn’t enough to observe mistakes. Our objective is to learn, to get better. Our instructor was telling us not to wait for your neighbor to draw first so you can copy what they did. Draw your own. Give it a try. Make your mark.

       I remember when our kids would bring me a box of Legos and a set of instructions and ask for help. My first question was, “What have you done so far?” I wanted them to start on their own and work at it before asking for help. Because that’s how they would learn to try and how they would learn to trust their own efforts. I wasn’t interested in solving all their problems, but I wanted to equip them to solve their own. I wanted them to make their own mistakes so they could learn to be creative all their lives.

*   *   *   *   *

       “Practice doesn’t make perfect. There is no perfect. Practice makes better.” We must give up on the idea of perfect if we want to accomplish anything.

       Jon Acuff wrote, “Perfectionism is just fear wearing a tuxedo. It masquerades as a character trait, as if it’s an asset, but it’s not. It’s a poison that pretends to be a vitamin.”

       Forget perfect; go for practice. If you practice anything over and over, you can’t help but get better, whether we are talking about musical scales, throwing a baseball, writing essays, or brain surgery.

       The point is not to be timid or afraid, or refuse to learn from our neighbor, or give up trying to be perfect … but to be brave and bold enough to start the project anyway, to be prepared to learn on-the-fly, and to keep practicing.

       How can we go wrong living like that?

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

100 Things That Made 2022

       It’s the most wonderful time of the year, the time for making lists. I love lists. They make me happy, calm me down, and push me forward into the future – especially lists of happy things and good times.

       When we look back over our life, and over the previous year, we tend to remember the bad over the good.

       Why is that?

       Two reasons: Most good things stretch out over long periods of time, but bad things happen all at once, so the bad things stick in our memory while the good things fade to the back. Also, we have an Enemy who tries to rob us of joy and love and covers over our best memories with the debris of daily life.

       Therefore, we must intentionally remind ourselves of the good things, the grace-filled things, the influential things, and the things that make us human. Living with gratitude is the secret to a meaningful life, and this exercise of listing people, events, and things that made the year better is a powerful move toward having a habitually thankful heart.

       Writer and artist, Austin Kleon, taught me to do this, and thanks to him this is my 8th edition. You may notice some repeats from my previous lists. That’s on purpose. I love the good things that stick year after year, and I want to call them out.

       I encourage you to put together your own list, and don’t stop until you can identify at least 100 things. It won’t be easy. You may have to find help to remember the best, so dig out your journals, flip through the photos on your phone, comb through your calendars, review your reading lists and music purchases, and ask those who are close to you. It can be a lot of work, but trust me, it’s worth the effort.

       And when you do, I hope you share. A big part of imbedding gratitude in your life is making it known.

100 Things That Made 2022

(By the way, this list has been randomly sorted. Trying to rank items by importance is paralyzing.)

1.       Fleece pullovers

2.       Quote: “God loves you the way you are, not the way you ought to be. None of us are the way we ought to be, and never will.” (Brennan Manning)

3.       Donating my 129th pint of blood (16.125 gallons).

4.       Sharing cartoons on my Facebook page.

5.       Book: One Long River of Song, by Brian Doyle

6.       Reading my Daily Bible

7.       Book: Lonesome Dove, (Larry McMurtry)

8.       Podcast: Clear + Vivid (Alan Alda)

9.       Movie: Top Gun Maverick

10.    Holding hands with Cyndi while sitting on the couch and watching old TV episodes.

11.    Bear Trap Ranch near Colorado Springs, CO.

12.    Book: Where the Light Fell, by Philip Yancey

13.    Attending the Chicago concert in Midland with Freemans and Grigsbys.

14.    Book: Where Good Ideas Come From, by Steven Johnson.

15.    My friend, Paul, who loaned his trailer to us to fill with demolition debris from our bathrooms remodeling project. He went with me to the city dump to unload it, where we were the oldest trailer unloaders out of two dozen crews.

16.    Finding Mick Herron, another author to follow after I finished reading all of John LeCarre’s books. I’ve finished his first two novels: Slow Horses, and Dead Lions.

17.    Hamburgers with tater tots at Blue Sky

18.    The Wonderful Name Christmas celebration and worship at First Baptist Church – playing in the orchestra was energizing.

19.    Watching the original Magnum P.I. series with Cyndi and remembering when we made the same fashion choices in the 1980s.

20.    Quote: “They don’t put championship rings on smooth hands.” (Brent Venebles)

21.    A Get Well Soon card from my yoga class homies.

22.    Mailing birthday cards

23.    Iron Men Muster with Jeff Andrechyn. I love introducing my guys to the men that have spoken into my own heart and life.

24.    My black Lululemon Sojourn Jacket, a gift from Cyndi.

25.    Soft-Cover, black, squared Moleskine Journals

26.    Movie: The Lost City

27.    Making beef runs to Texline, which means, spending the entire day with Cyndi.

28.    Leading a Sunday School teacher training program with Clark.

29.    Bill Britt with Integrity Massage – he keeps me moving.

30.    Thumbing through Facebook memories each morning, reinforcing those fun, clever, and meaningful things that I had forgotten.

31.    Taco Tuesdays … a family staple for over 25 years.

32.    Podcast: Broken Record (Rick Rubin and Malcolm Gladwell) … especially interviews with Tedeschi Trucks Band, and Bonnie Raitt

33.    Quote: “Good, wise hearts are obtained through lifetimes of diligent effort.” (David Brooks)

34.    Quote: “Good teaching is just saving people time.” (Ian Cron)

35.    Playing in the FBC orchestra and Midland College Jazz Band with Cyndi

36.    Dr. Vineyard and the Carrell Clinic in Dallas. They operated on my left foot and ankle June 22nd, and thanks to them, I have better walking and hiking days ahead of me. (I just powered through four days of 8-10 miles per day, chasing Cyndi and Katie through Disney World.)

37.    Quote: “Simply put, it is never the perfect time to begin.” (Alastair Humphreys)

38.    Ruthlessly blocking hateful people on Facebook

39.    Book: Liturgy of the Ordinary (Tish Harrison Warren)

40.    Regular dinners with Britt and Patti Pyeatt

41.    Playing in the worship service with Rabon, Craig, Jeff, Shumie, and Laurlyn.

42.    Quote (when asked about his life as a music legend): “The part I didn’t know was that it would be a 50-year bus ride.” (Merle Haggard)

43.    Sharing insights from daily Bible reading on my Facebook page.

44.    Movie: Operations Mincemeat

45.    Quote: “Don’t listen to people who have one piece of advice.” (Seth Godin)

46.    Wedding of Mier Simpson and Josh McClellan. Not only was it a joyous occasion, dancing with Cyndi at the reception was the best my left foot had felt in months.

47.    Yellow highlighters

48.    Thanksgiving meal with Darin and Julie Wood and family and friends.

49.    31st annual Midland Storytelling Festival. We’ve attended all 31.

50.    Cyndi’s homemade apple pie

51.    Quote (about knowing your calling): “What has God put in you that he wants you to give to the world?” (Gary Barkalow)

52.    The cookies Cyndi leaves in my kitchen drawer … just for me!

53.    Quote: “Things that frighten me: Relying on the past for my identity.” (Alastair Humphrey)

54.    Our large tribe of clever, intelligent, godly friends. Sometimes if feels like we have more than our share.

55.    Cycling.

56.    My new rolling tool chest that Cyndi gave to me for my birthday

57.    Book: The Geography of Bliss, by Eric Weiner.

58.    Movie: Hector and the Search for Happiness.

59.    Giving a talk – sharing my heart - about mentoring, at Base Camp Gathering.

60.    Our Family Vacation to Disney World

61.    My research trip to New Mexico to visit Forrest and Ruth Brockman and see first-hand the remains of Tolar.

62.    A Facebook post that I originally wrote in May 2018 but rediscovered this year:

Cyndi and I went to the Wagner Noel last night to see the Sound of Music, and as I sat watching I realized why I’ve always liked this musical so much. I’m married to Maria.

She is: free-spirited, loves music and being outside, spreads joy and energy in every room she enters, sings in the hallway and the abbey, does the macarena in the church balcony while running the media computer, dances while playing percussion, gets nervous when she realizes how much people are noticing her yet cannot stop herself from moving to the front of the room and taking over, and has turned this square-cornered captain into a dancer and poet and musician and lover.

63.    The peace that comes from not watching 24-hour TV news

64.    Working on my first novel, my first attempt at writing fiction. I hope to publish it soon.

65.    Sudoku puzzles

66.    Traveling down the highway listening to audio books with Cyndi

67.    Cyndi Simpson in yoga pants

68.    Movie: Summer of Soul.

69.    Serving on the Midland Development Corporation board.

70.    The Field’s Edge grand opening celebration.

71.    Touring the Dallas Makerspace with Byron and Angela.

72.    Wrangler Relaxed-Fit jeans. Skinny jeans don’t work for me.

73.    Christmas caroling with the Grace and Compass Sunday School classes. We had about sixty people. Caroling is a tradition that should not die. It is important.

74.    Watching Cyndi worship with the church media team.

75.    Energel Liquid Gel Ink Metal Tip 07mm ball pens

76.    Listening to Amy Grant sing Christmas while slicing vegetables in the kitchen for our Thanksgiving dinner.

77.    Reentering church leadership. Specifically, serving as chairman of the church council. It was a fulfilling, deepening experience.

78.    Witnessing my granddaughter Landry’s baptism at Rush Creek Church Mansfield West.

79.    Regular phone calls from my brother, Carroll; even when they are about futbol.

80.    I’m up to 5-mile walks, still recovering from surgery last June.

81.    Movie: The Jesus Music

82.    Whataburger Yeti cup

83.    Finishing the year with 2,889 books on my reading list (since 1986). Send me your list; I’ll send you mine.

84.    Book: A Burning in My Bones – biography of Eugene Peterson (Winn Collier)

85.    Base Camp Gathering in Colorado with my Noble Heart friends

86.    Knee scooters: a great invention. They can be awkward, but much safer than crutches for a 66-year-old and make it possible to move through an airport very fast. (And my friends Darrell Hopkins & Skeet Doss, who loaned their knee scooters to me.)

87.    Kevin Willhite with Soft Touch Chiropractic Clinic. He keeps me straight and pain-free.

88.    The Midland Art Crawl at Cyndi’s yoga studio and playing Christmas jazz with Craig and Rabon.

89.    Madden’s entry into the family business – distance running and trombone playing

90.    Book: Ruthless Trust (Brennan Manning)

91.    Playing trombone with Denver and the Mile High Orchestra in Alpine and Midland, TX

92.    Quote: “Hope is a discipline.”

93.    The Anti-Gravity treadmill at Paradigm Physical Therapy.

94.    Handing my high school trombone, a 1973 Conn 88H, to my granddaughter, a beginning trombone player.

95.    Tuesday morning gentle yoga class.

96.    Book: Miracle and Wonder (Malcolm Gladwell, Bruce Headlam, and Paul Simon)

97.    Hearing a rooster crow at the post office – someone mailed a rooster!

98.    Mailing family stories to my granddaughters.

99.    Quote: “There’s no point in me doing anything if I can’t write about it,” (David Sedaris)

100. Journey Groups. I’ve grown close to so many great men.

Podcasts I Listened to Regularly in 2022

       This is my current list of podcasts, the ones I listen to while driving my pickup, riding my bike, or running (well, nowadays, when I’m walking). This list changes regularly as my tastes and ideas change, and it doesn’t include a lot of excellent podcasts that I love but aren’t in my current rotation.

       Anyway, try these, and enjoy.

Akimbo, from Seth Godin … a podcast about our culture and how we can change it.

Alert & Oriented: Conversations about God between friends … from The Noble Heart Ministry

Ask Dr. E … your theological questions answered in ten minutes or less, by Michael Easley

The Art of Manliness … a podcast that helps men become better men.

Bear Mills podcast … Positive Christian messages from God's Word and life experiences by author and inspirational speaker Bear Mills.

Broken Record, with Rich Rubin and Malcolm Gladwell … audio liner notes from some of the most famous music and musicians

Bullseye, with Jesse Thorn … an NPR podcast featuring the best culture creators

Clear + Vivid with Alan Alda … spirited conversations with people who know how hard it is, and yet how good it feels, to really connect with other people – whether it’s one person, an audience or a whole country.

The Delta Flyers … episode by episode discussions about Star Trek Voyager, by Garrett Wang and Robert Duncan McNeill

Fresh Air … NPR program featuring intimate conversations with today’s biggest luminaries.

Hidden Brain … explores the unconscious patterns that drive human behavior and questions that lie at the heart of our complex and changing world

Mosaic … sermons by Erwin McManus, from the Mosaic Church in Los Angeles, CA

Radiolab … a podcast about science, philosophy, and ethics, from NPR

The Russell Moore Show … talks about the latest books, cultural conversations and pressing ethical questions that point us toward the kingdom of Christ

Science Friday … covering the broad field of science with long in-depth interviews

TED Interview … a space for guests to further delve into their groundbreaking work, give us a peek into how they discover and explore fascinating ideas, and, in some cases, even defend their thinking.

TED Talks Daily … talks from the smartest communicators in today’s world.

A Way with Words … a fun radio show and podcast about language, family, history, and culture.

Wild Ideas Worth Living … conversations with people who took the path less traveled and brought their wildest ideas to life, sponsored by REI.

WorkLife with Adam Grant … Organizational psychologist Adam Grant takes you inside the minds of some of the world’s most unusual professionals to explore the science of making work not suck.

99% Invisible … about the thought that goes into the things we don’t think about – the unnoticed architecture and design that shape our world.

25 Good Books I Read in 2022

      It’s no secret – I’m a man of lists. I love making lists, whether shopping lists, to-do lists, book lists, running and biking lists, hiking lists, blood pressure and heartrate lists, and even list lists. I agree with the sentiments of Sheldon Cooper, from The Big Bang, who once said, “If there were a list of things that make me more comfortable, lists would be at the top of that list.”

      Way back in 1986 I followed the advice of motivational speaker Jim Rohn and started keeping a list of books I’d read. It wasn’t a hard decision. I love to read, and my reading habit precedes my list-making habit by decades.

       These are the books that turned out to be the most meaningful for me over the past twelve months. Should you choose to read one of these, I’d love to hear from you. And if you have any recommendations for me, I’d love to hear those, too.

       I don’t expect everyone to love reading as much as I do, or like the same books I like, but I know all of us would be better people if we read a book or two every year. And so, here are some suggestions. These are listed in the order I read them; I didn’t try to rank them by importance or enjoyment … that’s a paralyzing and pointless exercise. Send me your own list. I’m always searching for ideas.

1.     No Wrong Turns: Cycling the World, Part One: Paris to Sidney, by Chris Pountney … The author bicycled away from the Eiffel Tower in the vague direction of the Sydney Opera House, hoping to become the first person to circumnavigate the planet using only a bicycle and boats. With a list of seven challenges to guide him (but no real map), he headed east, not knowing what he might find along the way.

2.     Miracle and Wonder: Conversations with Paul Simon, by Malcomb Gladwell and Bruce Headlam … part memoir, part investigation, and unlike any creative portrait you’ve ever heard before. The conversation flows from Simon’s music, to his childhood in Queens, NY, to his frequent collaborators and the nature of creativity itself.

3.     Liturgy of the Ordinary, by Tish Harrison Warren … How do we embrace the sacred in the ordinary and the ordinary in the sacred? Framed around one ordinary day, this book explores daily life through the lens of liturgy, small practices, and habits that form us.

4.     A Burning in my Bones: The Authorized Biography of Eugene Peterson, by Winn Collier … offers unique insights into the experiences and spiritual convictions of the iconic American pastor and beloved translator of The Message. 

5.     All About Me: My Remarkable Life in Show Business, by Mel Brooks … the never-before-told, behind-the-scenes anecdotes and remembrances from a master storyteller, filmmaker, and creator of all things funny.

6.     God, Improv, and the Art of Living, by Mary Ann McKibben Dana … The principle of "yes, and..." in improvisational theater has produced a lot of great comedy. But it also offers an invigo­rating approach to life in general, and the spiritual life in particular.

7.     One Long River of Song: Notes on Wonder, by Brian Doyle … Doyle writes with a delightful sense of wonder about the sanctity of everyday things, and about love and connection in all their forms: spiritual love, brotherly love, romantic love, and even the love of a nine-foot sturgeon.

8.     The Pigeon Tunnel: Stories From My Life, by John Le Carre … The author gives us a glimpse of a writer’s journey over more than six decades, and his own hunt for the human spark that has given so much life and heart to his fictional characters.

9.      The Extended Mind: The Power of Thinking Outside the Brain, by Annie Murphy Paul … A host of “extra-neural” resources - the feelings and movements of our bodies, the physical spaces in which we learn and work, and the minds of those around us - can help us focus more intently, comprehend more deeply, and create more imaginatively. 

10.    Ruthless Trust: The Ragamuffin’s Path to God, by Manning Brennan … A sequel to The Ragamuffin Gospel that shows how true and radical trust in God can transform our lives.

11.  Fuzz: When Nature Breaks the Law, by Mary Roach … the curious science of human-wildlife conflict, a discipline at the crossroads of human behavior and wildlife biology.

12.  Grace Notes, by Brian Doyle … The author writes about his discovery of God every time he turns around, often in the most unlikely of people, places, and things. In 37 short snapshots, he captures the spiritual essence of everyday life from the perspective of a committed Catholic who loves his faith, his family, his community, and his church, even with all their warts and failings

13.  God's Forever Family: The Jesus People Movement in America, by Larry Eskridge … The Jesus People movement was a unique combination of the hippie counterculture and evangelical Christianity. It first appeared in the famed "Summer of Love" of 1967, in San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district, and spread like wildfire in Southern California and beyond, to cities like Seattle, Atlanta, and Milwaukee. In 1971 the growing movement found its way into the national media spotlight and gained momentum, attracting a huge new following among evangelical church youth, who enthusiastically adopted the Jesus People persona as their own.

14.  A Poor Priest for the Poor: The Life of Father Rick Thomas S.J., by Richard Dunstan … When he heard God’s call to the priesthood, Rick Thomas set out on a journey he could never have imagined. He turned his back on a life of wealth and worldly success. In more than half a century with the Society of Jesus, he not only served the poor tirelessly, but embraced poverty in his own life—so completely that he spent the majority of his career eating tortillas and beans and sleeping on a cot wherever he was working. For over 40 years, he led a multifaceted set of ministries to the poor of El Paso, Texas, and Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, relying on God to guide decisions and provide the resources. This book is the story of that life’s journey.

15.    Why We Swim, by Bonnie Tsui … Swimming is an introspective and silent sport in a chaotic and noisy age; it’s therapeutic for both the mind and body; and it's an adventurous way to get from point A to point B. It's also one route to that elusive, ecstatic state of flow. These reasons, among many others, make swimming one of the most popular activities in the world.

16.  From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life, by Arthur Brooks … Drawing on social science, philosophy, biography, theology, and eastern wisdom, as well as dozens of interviews with everyday men and women, Brooks shows us that true life success is well within our reach. By refocusing on certain priorities and habits that anyone can learn, such as deep wisdom, detachment from empty rewards, connection and service to others, and spiritual progress, we can set ourselves up for increased happiness. 

17.  The Five Masculine Instincts: A Guide to Becoming a Better Man, by Chase Replogle … Today’s men face a dilemma. Our culture tells them that their instincts are either toxic or salvific. Men are left with only two options: deconstruct and forfeit masculine identity or embrace it with wild abandon. They’re left to decide between ignoring their instincts or indulging them. Neither approach helps them actually understand their own masculine experiences nor how those experiences can lead them to become better men of God.

18.  These Precious Days: Essays, by Ann Patchett … Life often takes turns we do not see coming. Patchett ponders this truth in these wise essays that afford a fresh and intimate look into her mind and heart.

19.  My Midsummer Morning: Rediscovering a Life of Adventure, by Alastair Humphries … Seasoned adventurer Alastair Humphreys pushes himself to his very limits - busking his way across Spain with a violin he can barely play. The journey was his most terrifying yet, risking failure and humiliation every day, and finding himself truly vulnerable to the rhythms of the road and of his own life. But along the way, he found humility, redemption and triumph. It was a very good adventure.

20.  Slow Horses: Slough House, Book 1, by Mick Herron … If you loved reading John Le Carre (I do), Herron is probably just right for you.

21.  Blowing My Own Trumpet, by James Morrison … One of Australia's best-known and best-loved musicians, jazz virtuoso James Morrison is also a great storyteller. His adventures include getting feedback on his haircut from Ray Charles (think about it...), living on a derelict sailboat in freezing New York in justified hopes of making it big there, sneaking over the wall of Government House with his girlfriend, who turns out to be the Governor's daughter, and much, much more.

22.  Two Wheels Good: The History and Mystery of the Bicycle, by Jody Rosen … The bicycle is a vestige of the Victorian era, seemingly at odds with our age of smartphones and ride-sharing apps and driverless cars. Yet we live on a bicycle planet. Across the world, more people travel by bicycle than any other form of transportation. Almost anyone can learn to ride a bike—and nearly everyone does

23.  Where the Light Fell: A Memoir, by Philip Yancey … Searching for answers, Yancey dives into his family origins, taking us on an evocative journey from the backwoods of the Bible Belt to the bustling streets of Philadelphia; from trailer parks to church sanctuaries; from family oddballs to fire-and-brimstone preachers and childhood awakenings through nature, music, and literature. In time, the weight of religious and family pressure sent both sons on opposite paths — one toward healing from the impact of what he calls a “toxic faith,” the other into a self-destructive spiral. In piecing together his fragmented personal history and his search for redemption, Yancey gives testament to the enduring power of our hunger for truth and the possibility of faith rooted in grace instead of fear.

24.  Lonesome Dove, by Larry McMurtry … Larry McMurtry's Pulitzer Prize-winning classic, Lonesome Dove, is the grandest novel ever written about the last defiant wilderness of America.

25.  The One Year Chronological Bible, published by Tyndale … I read through this every year, and nothing has influenced my relationship with God more.

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

Just Say Yes!

       Monday morning, while sitting in my favorite booth in Whataburger, I read from John 14, when Jesus was drawing very near to his death and was sharing his last words with his disciples. Jesus said, “Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him.” (14:21 NIV) Jesus unequivocally linked obedience to love.

       The next verse says, “Then Judas (not Judas Iscariot) said, “But, Lord, why do you intend to show yourself to us and not to the world?”

       My first thought upon reading this was that this Judas (not Iscariot) needs a better last name than not Iscariot. Surely, he had a second name. Maybe John couldn’t remember it. Judas was a popular and common name during that time in history, but no one wants the same name as the betrayer of Jesus. I doubt any believers were ever named Judas, again.

       Some Bible scholars believe this disciple was also called Thaddeus. Good. He must’ve kept the Thaddeus name after this so he wouldn’t have to remind people that he was the other Judas and not Iscariot.

       My second thought was that regardless of his name, I appreciated Thaddeus’ question. He asked, “Why are you showing all this to us and not to everyone?” It’s a legit question, and a familiar question to many people in leadership.

       The question follows two familiar paths. The first, who am I that I’m privy to this special insight? How did I end up here, with these others? I don’t remember doing anything special or noteworthy, all I did was say yes when asked. Is that all it takes to end up an insider?

       I’ve been in too many situations where I had to talk myself back from the ledge because I felt I was – knew I was – inadequate for the task ahead of me, and wondering how, of all people, I ended up here. If I don’t appear to have those concerns when you see me, well, all I can say is most of what you see is learned response – I’ve learned to hide it. I’m sure Thaddeus felt the same way. I suppose all of the disciples felt the same way. How did I end up here learning the gospel of truth and life from the Son of God? Why me?

       The second familiar path I hear in the disciple’s question is this – Now that you, Jesus, have shown yourself to us and not to the whole world, does that come with expectations and responsibilities? Because not only do I wonder how I ended up here in this room with this group, but I’m also afraid I won’t be able to do whatever you have in mind.

       Personally, I can only think of one or two occasions in my life when I was handed a life-sized challenge and I thought I was up to the task. As in, they asked exactly the right guy.

       However, I can think of dozens of occasions when I knew the opposite – not only did I have no understanding of what was in to, and if I did understand it, I would be even more unsure of myself.

       Here’s the thing. I don’t want to live a life that always makes sense to me, where I know what I’m supposed to do and how to do it each and every time. That’s why I keep saying yes to hikes and bike rides I doubt I can complete, to classes I’m not comfortable to teach, to trombone solos I don’t know how to play, to novels I don’t know how to write.

       I expect Thaddeus was the same. Otherwise, he would have stayed home when Jesus asked him to follow. But he didn’t stay home. He said Yes!

       That’s all Jesus asks of us – to say Yes!

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

Stories About Trees

       We bought a seven-foot potted Ficus tree sometime in 2009 after we moved into our house in Woodland Park. It was beautiful. We kept the tree in a large pot on a flat tray with wheels on it so we could move it inside and outside. We moved it into the house every fall, and back outside every spring. The tree grew very tall, so tall we had to trim the top each year so it wouldn’t scratch the twelve-foot ceiling.

       Once inside our house, the tree sat in our library behind my big brown chair. I loved it even though, like all Ficus trees, it dropped leaves into my lap and onto the pages of my book all winter long. It felt cozy and warm and inviting to sit under a tree, like there was a source of life behind my chair.

       During the warm season the tree sat in its pot on the back porch, mostly sheltered from the wind (although we had to stand it back up several times each season). We often pulled it out from under the porch when it rained.

       That very first spring of 2009 a dove built a nest in the tree, and since it was right in front of a window, we could watch the progression from eggs to chicks to birds. We could see them, but they couldn’t see us. The doves used that same nest year after year, adding more sticks each season.

       Here’s the sad part. Last fall 2021, we waited one night too many before moving our tree inside. It froze. We were heartbroken, but we moved it inside anyway hoping it was only mostly dead. We moved it back outside in the spring, giving it a chance to recover, but there was no joy. It just dried up and got more brittle every day.

       And yet the doves still returned to the nest. They sat on eggs amid all the dead branches and brown leaves.  We knew the tree was gone, and I knew it was my job to dispose of the remains, but I waited until the doves finished raising their new family.

       Friday, November 4th, I loaded the tree into the bed of my pickup and took it to the city drop-off for yard waste. It was time. Its sad condition had haunted me long enough.

       I saved the nest, however, as a reminder. Maybe I’ll stick it in a new tree and see if the birds use it again.

*  *  *  *  *

       Mary Reynolds Thompson quoted Willa Cather in her book, Reclaiming the Wild Soul, “I like trees because they seem more resigned to the way they have to live than other things do.”

       Our Ficus tree never complained about our forgetfulness. It kept most of its leaves and branches, even though brown and brittle, all last winter and spring, seeming to delay its final transition.

*  *  *  *  *

       I often ask people where they feel most at home. The usual answers center around familiar places and familiar roles.

       One of the places I used to feel at home was in my hammock in the backyard under the shade of a big honey locust tree. I loved to lay in that hammock with the Sunday paper across my chest and sleep while I gently swung myself by pulling on the slender rope tied to the porch post. I could swing myself and sleep at the same time. It was wonderful and peaceful, and it was home.

       Unfortunately, I had to cut that tree down. It was attacked by bores in the summer of 1999 and by spring of 2000 it finally gave up the fight to stay alive. It broke my heart to lose this tree.

       It had a trunk of eighteen inches; Cyndi and I planted it years before when it was a 1" stick. It was the biggest and oldest impression I'd ever made on the actual earth. I loved that I planted something that seemed so significant. I was inspired by that tree.

       I thought I was more in charge of my environment. I expected the things I did to stay done. I don't enjoy short-term fixes and it hurt to realize my efforts had been so temporary.

       I borrowed a chainsaw and cut the tree down. I was finally convinced the tree would never come back to life and I was at peace with the loss, so I calmly spent an afternoon converting the tree into a stack of firewood.

*  *  *  *  *

       One of my favorite Bible passages is about trees, from Psalm 1.

He (a godly person) will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,
Which yields its fruit in its season
And its leaf does not wither;
And in whatever he does, he prospers.

       This passage marks a significant progression in my life. In 1999, I wrote in the margin of my Bible, “Lord, I want to be well planted.” In 2014 I added, “Lord, I want to be a planter of trees.”

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

Somehow Something Changed

       What first captured your heart and opened your eyes to the world of art, music, and transcendence? Who was the first to ignite your artist soul?

       For me it was a rock band: Chicago. Hearing their music literally changed my life in 1971. I would not be a musician today if they hadn’t happened to me. And this week I was fortunate to hear them play again, in Midland, at the Wagner Noel Performing Arts Center.

       I posted: Swinging with Chicago tonight … I’m the one in the balcony singing and playing air trombone.

       One hot summer afternoon in 1971 I was working in the backyard of our house on Thorpe Street in Hobbs, New Mexico. Up until that summer I had played trombone in the school band. I enjoyed band because my friends were there, but the idea of music hadn’t yet seized me. I was thinking about quitting. It was the summer leading into my sophomore year of high school and I was hungry for changes that would open my world.

       That afternoon I heard KCRS play a song by Chicago, “Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is.” I’d heard it many times before, but this time the DJ let the music play all the way to the end. For the first time in my life I heard the trombone solo that famously finishes that song … and all I can say is, my life changed that day.

       There’s no other way to say it. My life changed. It had to be a gift from God because no one else could have changed me so completely. The day before I heard that solo, I was a goofy teenager ambivalent about everything; the day after, I was a musician. That event changed how I saw my future, it changed my thoughts about playing the trombone, it changed the trajectory of my life, it changed my heart.

       Because of my backyard conversion when I was just 16 years old, I still play trombone weekly. I played last Sunday, I played tonight at church orchestra rehearsal, and I’ll play tomorrow night at MC Jazz Band rehearsal. Because of that hot afternoon, music informs how I write, how I see the world, how I teach, and even the rhythm of my speech.

       If you had told me in 1971 those same guys (well, at least three of them) would still be playing rock-and-roll when they were in their 70s, and I would get to hear them play live, I would’ve laughed. How silly. And yet, now it’s my life goal to enjoy what I do as much as they enjoy performing, all the way to the end of my life, just like them.

       Tuesday night, the first song Chicago played was “Introduction,” which happens to be the first track from their first album. As soon as I heard those distinct eighth notes, bump bump, a pickup and beat one, I was carried away, like magic. “Sir, I can name that song in two notes.”

       Here’s the thing: I’m not really writing about Chicago; I’m writing about the power of music. I’m writing about how some things latch on to your soul so that you wallow in it for decades. Maybe for you it was soccer, or dance, or math, or mountains, or the beach. For me it was music, and Chicago made it happen.

       Week after week I write about God, running, cycling, backpacking, spiritual growth, family, music, and loving Cyndi. And the truth is, I can’t separate those topics. They are woven together, and I don’t care to cut them apart.

       I went to the Tuesday concert, not just to hear the same songs I can listen to any time I want, but to reinforce a 51-year-old life-changing experience that still influences me every day. Music is one of our tightest family ties. Music is one of my deepest spiritual truths. I don’t want to let that slip away.

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

Please forward this blog to others; I need your help to spread it around. Thanks.

Leave No Trace

       Last week I listened to a podcast about men living in prison hospice. Men with no families, no friends, and no hope. The interviewer referred to them as “men whose only future is to disappear without leaving a trace.”

       That phrase – without a trace – haunted me for days.

       It’s a familiar phrase to me, even if I know it mostly in another context. Leave No Trace is a concept in camping, hiking, and backpacking. It encourages us to leave minimal impact when outdoors in order to preserve and protect the wildness and the beauty. “If you pack it in, pack it out.”

       But all I could think about after listening to the podcast was my fear of leaving no trace in life, leaving no trace on the world, leaving no lasting impact and nothing meaningful.

       One of our go-to movies, The Bourne Supremacy, has a heartbreaking scene when Jason Bourne burns all the evidence of his girlfriend and their life together, making it harder for the bad guys to find him again. He wanted to disappear.

       I’ve watched this scene many times, and it always makes me sad that he destroyed the traces of his life. It’s the opposite of how I want to live. I hope to leave lots of evidence that tells what God has done for me. Not to be famous or well-known, but to leave a wide wake of changed lives.

*  *  *  *  *

       I once sat through a Christmas dinner for Greathouse Elementary School where Cyndi taught 5th grade. I was seated next to another teacher’s spouse, a man whose life dreams could be summed up by his desire to live completely “off the grid.” He wanted to get away from it all, be away from it all, disappear, and depend only upon himself. He rambled on and on during the entire dinner and through most of the congratulation speeches and gifts.

       He was oblivious to the fact that not only could I have not cared less about his off-the-grid dream, but it was also the opposite of how I want to live any part of my own life. But I couldn’t get away from him without abandoning Cyndi, who was sitting on my other side, so I listened to all of it.

       In my book Practicing Faith, I told the story of a young Louis L’Amour, about a time when he was hired to guard a mine that lay in a basin at the end of thirty-odd miles of winding, one-lane dirt road in remote southern California. L’Amour’s boss dropped him off in front of a concrete bunkhouse and drove away, leaving Louis all by himself. He wrote, “It was not Walden Pond. There was no water here except what came from a well. There were no forests. There wasn’t a tree within miles.” But there were boxes of books left by the previous occupant, and Louis L’Amour devoured them. He said the loneliness never affected him because he was so busy reading.

       Well, that sounded attractive to me. Minimal obligations, plenty to eat and drink, and unlimited time to read, go for long runs, think, and write.

       It also sounded lonely and incomplete. I wouldn’t be happy living that way for long. Besides the fact that I couldn’t be happy without Cyndi, I’m never totally happy learning and studying and analyzing unless I have an opportunity to share what I’ve learned. It isn’t enough to do something; I want to tell my stories afterward. Somehow sharing is part of the learning process, as if I won’t have room to learn more unless I pass along what I know.

*  *  *  *  *

       How do you change the world, how do you leave a widening wake of changed lives, how do you speak grace and wisdom into young men’s hearts, living all by yourself off the grid. That isn’t who I want to be. Do you?

       I want to be completely engaged in the lives of other people, sharing stories that put God’s truth within reach. I want to be firmly planted in the grid, changing the grid, changing the future.

*  *  *  *  *

How about you? What will the world miss if you don’t tell your story?

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

Please forward this blog to others; I need your help to spread it around. Thanks.