Give it Away

Question: What truth do you feel obligated to pass along to others? Last Sunday morning our adult Bible study class took a tour of the new construction at our church - a remodeled worship center, chapel, and visitor center - which will be open for use in a couple of months. It was great to see the progress, but the time spent touring meant I had only a short time to teach the morning’s lesson.

I didn’t want to dive into an Old Testament prophet with so little time, so I talked instead about some verses I read recently in my Daily Bible.

Do you have Bible verses that reach out to grab you, calling you by name? These are some of mine.

“What you heard from me, keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus. Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you - guard it with the help of the Holy Spirit who lives in us.” (2 Timothy 1:13-14)

The Apostle Paul was telling his young student, Timothy, how to live. He was saying, “Do what I do.”

To be honest, for most of my teaching career, that notion that I should expect people to live as I do has made me uncomfortable. Who am I to say something like that?

However, in the margin of my Daily Bible I have a series of notes, each from a different year, and they describe my personal journey through these verses.

“2001 - The longer I teach, the more comfortable I am to say this.”

“2006 - In fact, this is the heart of my ministry as a teacher and writer.”

“2011 - I shouldn’t teach anything unless I believe this.”

The cool thing for me was that once I got over worrying about how I could say, “Do what I do,” a worry that was too self-focused anyway, I was able to notice something deeper in those verses.

The verbs - hear, keep, guard, and entrust - describe a progressive deepening, an embrace, or ownership, of the message.

First, we HEAR something from someone we respect.

Then, because what we heard is important, and because we trust the person who shared it, we decide to KEEP it. We remember it. This requires a decision on our part since we don’t keep everything we hear.

At some point, merely remembering isn’t enough, and we realize the need to GUARD it. We make sure to follow it. We decide to own it. This requires another level of commitment, since we don’t own everything we remember. We remember many useless facts that have no effect on how we live. But when we own this “good deposit”, when we guard it, we have committed to living it out through our daily lives.

And finally, once we realize that what we’ve heard, kept, and guarded, has changed our life and drawn us closer to God, we have to share it. Because it’s more than data, it’s the truth, a good deposit, and it was ENTRUSTED to us.

This verse is talking about more than a transfer of useful information. Something of value has been deposited in our lives with the expectation of a return on investment. The only way to guard the truth is to give it away. A truth kept secret will eventually cease to exist, so we are obligated to give away what we’ve received. And that is that heart of being a Christ follower - giving yourself away.

As you make plans for 2013, ask yourself: What have you HEARD that you finally need to OWN? What has been ENTRUSTED to you that you need to GIVE AWAY? What truth do you feel obligated to pass along?

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

Find me at http://berrysimpson.com and learn more about my books. Or find me at  http://twitter.com/berrysimpson and at http://www.facebook.com/BerrySimpsonAuthor

Come Back

When they heard God strolling in the garden in the evening breeze, the Man and his Wife hid from God.  God called to the Man: “Where are you?”

The Man said, “I was afraid because I was naked, and I hid.” (from Genesis 3:8-10, MSG)

Every January 1, the beginning of my annual journey through the Daily Chronological Bible, I read the grandest and boldest Fresh Start Story of all, the opening narrative of Genesis. And my favorite story comes from Genesis 3.

The most famous part of this story is the tragic account of Adam and Eve choosing to sin by eating the forbidden fruit. Why did they do it? The serpent told them, in effect, “God is holding out on you; there is a life you can have that’s bigger than the life God has for you.” So they ate, expecting to find a bigger, smarter, wiser, and more fulfilled life.

We’ve all heard that lie, haven’t we? The voice in our head says, “Pursue this even though God says it is wrong; your life will be so much more exciting if you do.”

But Adam and Eve discovered that the wisdom they expected actually showed them their own sin and nakedness, and for the first time in their life, they hid from God. They were afraid of God.

That fear, the first they’d ever felt, must have rocked their world as much as the pain from their sin.

Well, my favorite part of the story is what happened next. The text says that God went walking in the garden, looking for them. God called out, “Where are you?”

Of course, he knew exactly where they were. This wasn’t a game of hide and seek, or a geography quiz.

What God was asking was this: “Where is your heart?”

He didn’t go searching to capture them and punish them. He came to bring them back. God wanted his people to come back. He didn’t want them to be afraid of him.

The best part of the story happened when Adam answered, “I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid.”

It was a remarkable confession - that he was afraid of God, and afraid of his own exposure.

But what is even more significant is that Adam answered at all. He could have slunk deeper into the trees and tried to hide further.

He didn’t do that, though. He came back. Adam’s best move in the entire book of Genesis was that he came back. Even in his nakedness and exposure and fear and shame and embarrassment and sin, he came back. His desire to experience God was greater than his fear and shame. He couldn’t stay away. He came back.

It’s a sad truth that Adam sinned against God. He made a huge mistake that changed the entire course of mankind, and he deserves to take the hit for that. But what made him human, his best move ever, was this, he came back.

Just like Simon Peter, who came back to Jesus instead of running away, after committing the most embarrassing sin imaginable. Peter’s need for grace and acceptance and healing from Jesus was greater than his shame and embarrassment.

Just like David, “A man after God’s own heart.” The Bible doesn’t give David that label because of his perfect life, which wasn’t perfect, but because he always came back. After every failure, David ran back to God.

They came back because their need for healing and restoration was greater than their shame and embarrassment. And because they came back, we can come back. We don’t have to slink deeper into the wilderness to hide. We can come back.

The story of Adam took another bad turn when Adam blamed his sin on Eve, who blamed her sin on the serpent. That’s often the way with fresh starts. We begin doing the right thing but stumble almost immediately.

Fresh starts are real, but so is failure. Yet, even when we fail, we can turn around and come back again.

Maybe we set great New Year’s goals on January 1, but by January 3, we wonder what happened. We’ve already stumbled. How could we fail so quickly?

How many times each day will we have to decide whether to go deeper into the trees or step into the light, whether to run away and hide or come back to God?

But here’s the good news. Setbacks don’t have to define our lives. Like Adam, Peter, and David, we have a choice. We can come back to God. He is searching for us, even now.

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Transitions

“One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me” (Philippians 3:13-14, NIV) Tuesday morning last week, I read this note in the margin of my Daily Bible: “December 11, 2007 - my last City Council meeting.”

I wrote that in my Bible so I wouldn’t forget; it was a big day in my life. I had served on the Midland City Council for twelve years.

I don’t remember much about that last meeting except that it felt right - like it was time to move on. I had no real regrets about leaving, yet I would’ve stayed and enjoyed it had I won the election.

The peace of that particular day surprised me, since I’d spent years wondering what I would do with myself after leaving government. I enjoyed serving on the Council, even the difficult and painful times. I loved making decisions that made Midland better, stronger, and safer for families. I was proud of the work I did to encourage park development, improve quality of life, and turn vacant run-down empty lots into living neighborhoods. I poured a great deal of intellectual and emotional energy into city government, and it occupied a huge portion of my mental capacity for the entire twelve years.

So my biggest questions on December 11, 2007 were, what will I do next, and who will care? Maybe the unspoken question was this: Who will I be after today?

For twelve years I’d wondered how it would end. I expected to be anxious and restless after leaving, until all those government wheels spinning in my head coasted to a stop.

But what really happened was this: nothing. The daily wear-and-tear and problem solving flew away quickly and completely. Instead of being haunted by my own absence, I was free. I forgot about government almost immediately. It faded quickly into something I used to do, long ago and far away, like going to college or being single.

The freedom was a gift from God. He was telling me be cool, it was time to go, press on to the future, and forget what lies behind.

Here’s what happened next.

I found time to write and publish two books. (My third will be out in January 2013.)

I dived deeper into the lives of the men God entrusted to me.

Cyndi and I built a new house - actually, we stood around and watched while Kahler Homes built it - and we love it. We filled it up with people almost immediately and have kept it full ever since.

I don’t know how I could have done any of those if still in government.

What I am trying to say is, while I enjoyed serving all those years, and I am certain I would enjoy it today if I were still there, I am happier in my new life. Happier than I was before, and happier than I expected to be. And the fact the transition was so easy makes it even better. As if God took my hand, led me across the street, and said, “Let’s try some different stuff over here for a while.”

Well - back to my Daily Bible - the next morning, December 12^th, I read a story from Acts 24 that reminded me how transitions seldom work out as quickly or cleanly as we want. Most are harder, and most drag on longer that we hope.

The story in Acts was about a time when the Apostle Paul spent two years in prison because the governor was afraid to make a decision. Two years, gone, just like that.

Paul’s situation reminded me of another transition story. In 1994, like many other engineers, I was laid off by my employer of fifteen years. It took two years before I was working again. Two years, in the middle of my career, gone, just like that. Unemployment was frustrating and embarrassing; hard to comprehend God’s purpose.

However, during that time I developed the practice of writing one page every day. The topic wasn’t important as long as I filled the page. I also broke out of my corporate cocoon and dipped into the relational side of the independent oil and gas industry. I made a lot of new friends.

At the time, both of those activities seemed like busy work, stalling until something better came along. But looking back I realize they made my current life and work possible. Who knew?

And to be honest, the period of transition that began in 1994 has never really ended. Instability and uncertainty just became my way of life. I can’t say I am happy about that, but I’ve grown comfortable with it.

So sometimes, the transition doesn’t end right away. Maybe we need more training or conditioning; maybe the circumstances aren’t ready for us; maybe we just need to be grow up a little bit. It’s often hard to know the “why” of God’s timing.

The end of the calendar year means transitions for most of us. This is a great opportunity to move from the past, whether behaviors or beliefs or roadblocks, and into the next phase. It won’t be easy, but transitional moments should never be wasted. Ask God to show you what to leave behind and what to press toward.

And another thing about transitions. We seldom get a peek at what will come next. God doesn’t show the next thing to us until we are ready, and like ten-year-old boys, we are never ready as soon as we think we are.

So press on toward those transitions. They may happen quickly, or may take two years, but you can trust God to have your future in his plan.

Questions: Which big transition of your life happened quickly? Which took a long time? What do you see for 2013?

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

Wounded

I felt very brave to go cycling Friday morning. It was foggy and 45*F. I changed the lenses in my shades from dark to rose-colored so I could see better in the fog. I had new batteries in my flashing red light so motorists could see me better. I was ready to go.

So I rode away from the house only to circle the block and come back home to put on my tights and jacket. I still don’t have a handle on how much to wear when cycling during the winter months. It’s a different calculation from cold weather running. Runners underdress in cold weather, but cyclist have to overdress since we create our own wind chill.

It felt strong to ride fast down “A” street in the cool air with no wind. I even slowed before making the hard right-hand turn into the paved alley just north of the Dakota Apartments.

But I didn’t slow down enough. I made the turn, something I’ve done dozens of times, but when I crossed a big wet spot on the pavement, something else I’ve done dozens of times, both of my tires lost purchase and my bike skidded out from under me. I landed hard on the asphalt on my right hip, elbow, knee, and palm.

As I floundered on the ground trying to get back up, a nice woman drove down the alley toward me. She had seen the entire fall, so she rolled down the window of her tan Tahoe and asked if I was OK.

I slowly wobbled up to my feet. All my bike’s parts seemed to be in working order since I’d used my body to protect my bike from hitting the ground. I didn’t see any blood or torn clothing to hint at serious physical injury.

I said, “Thanks, I’m fine. More embarrassed than hurt.”

She said something like, “OK, be safe. I’ll bet you are sore tomorrow.”

The damage to my body was minimal since I was going slow enough to fall straight down and didn’t skid. I readjusted my equipment and myself and rode on down the alley to Lancashire Road, planning to finish my scheduled 38-mile ride.

But not for long. My hip began to ache, the fog was no longer fun or exciting, and my early morning courage faded. I realized I was done for the day, so I turned around and rode back home to take a hot shower.

Standing in my closet, I carefully peeled away my layers of cycling clothes to assess the damage. I had scraped the skin off my right kneecap and had a growing, palm-sized bright purple bruise on my right hip. Neither hurt right away, at least not as much as they appeared, but I knew I would feel differently the next day.

Later that morning, as I sat in my favorite booth and wrote in my journal about cycling wrecks, I thought about those other wounds that haunt us. The scrapes and bruises to our heart and soul that come from moral failures or personal defeats or thoughtless family or friends, or even the wear and tear of daily life. Those hidden injuries affect everything we do.

Showing off our physical wounds is part of the fun. I often say, “Without a scar there isn’t a story, and without a story, it’s like nothing ever happened.”

But those wounds to our heart, we tend to cover them up. We hide them, thinking we’re protecting ourselves by covering over.

Sometimes we even hide them from ourselves and we don’t know why we behave the way we do. Why we back off when we should be brave, why we slow down when we should fly, why we fail to speak up when someone close to us needs it most.

My wounds from falling will heal soon. But our wounds of the heart last longer. Partly because they are so hard to identify, but also because they tend to hit us in our softest points.

Maybe we have to remove a few layers before understanding how damaging those old wounds can be. Sometimes we may need help with the layers, being too sore and damaged to peel them back ourselves.

As far as cycling is concerned, my plan was to get back on my bike as soon as possible. Moving often flushes the soreness away, something I’ve learned after 34 years of running.

Of course, getting back in my bike won’t heal the skin abrasions. Those take time, and even then may leave a scar or two. My hope after any fall like this is that I will come out of it a better and savvier cyclists.

That has certainly been my experience with deeper wounds in my heart. After treatment and healing, I am a stronger and smarter man. And braver. Brave enough to go out again the next day.

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to www.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to www.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Simple things

Just as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so go on living in him—in simple faith (Colossians 2:6, Phillips) I asked my friend, Randall, “When do you reach the grandfather stage when you don’t have to do every single thing your granddaughter asks?”

He said, “Well, can you say no to your daughter, yet?”

Good point.

Our Thanksgiving week started Sunday afternoon when Cyndi brought our 2.73-year-old granddaughter, Madden, to our house in Midland, from her home in Mansfield. We had her all to ourselves until her parents, Drew and Katie, drove in Wednesday evening.

Madden is delightful. She talks all the time in (what seems to me to be) highly complex sentences. And she wants me to do everything with her. “Pops, let’s hop across the street together.” “Pops, come sit beside me and read to me.” “Pops, I want some cheese” “Why did you switch cars with Gran, Pops?” “I want to do it myself.” “Pops, can you make a funny face?” “I want to do it myself.” “Let’s go down the big slide together.” “Pops, watch out for the goose poop on the sidewalk.” “I want to do it myself.” “I want you to do it with me.” And, like that. It was great, but exhausting. I haven’t been on two-year-old duty since 1985, and I’ve lost most of my endurance. But simply hanging with Madden simply made me happy.

The thing is, because I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Madden, I didn’t go running or cycling all week. It was a good trade, but I missed moving down the road. I also missed Cyndi’s Wednesday morning Body Pump class, staying home in case Madden woke up.

I finally got to run Thursday morning, in the Midland Turkey Trot 5K.

My daughter, Katie, won the women’s race outright. Of course she did. I didn’t win anything. For one thing, I’m slow, but also because I was in the same age group as Popcorn (Boston qualifier) and Craig (Ironman triathlete). So there was no pretending I had a chance. I did finish ahead of the woman pushing a stroller, so I had that to brag about.

I could have gone to Cyndi’s Body Pump class Friday morning but instead I opted to stand in line outside Sam’s Club with daughter Katie. We tricked my son-in-law, Drew, into going to Cyndi’s class. It was satisfying to see him sore the rest of the day, being the workout beast that he is. It made me feel better about my own soreness from chasing Madden.

To maximize family time, I put all my exercise thoughts toward Sunday afternoon, hoping for a long and fast bike ride. It would be my big comeback, my reentry into routine. My chance to start moving again, as well as burn off holiday snacking.

So when it was finally Sunday afternoon, I got dressed to ride (after some premium time with Cyndi), but when I grabbed my bike from the ceiling hooks, I discovered the back tire was flat.

Not a problem, however. Still excited about finally moving, I quickly changed the tube and raced away down “A” Street.

I was about a mile-and-a-half from home when I realized the shimmy in my back wheel wasn’t from gravel in the road but from another flat. I had to creep back home, keeping my weight forward on my front tire. I changed the tube again.

My second time to leave home, I made it a half-mile before feeling the same unstable shimmy. Bummer, another flat. I was starting to lose my excitement about this Sunday afternoon ride.

When I removed the tube, I saw it was doubled back over itself, overlapping about three inches near the stem. The folding had caused the flat, and it was the second time I’d seen the exact phenomenon that afternoon. The tube must have crossed back on itself while I aired it up. Both flats were my fault; I was in a hurry. I’m not exactly sure what I did wrong, but I suspect I should have put a bit of air into the tube before fitting it between rim and tire.

By then, my brilliant Sunday afternoon had morphed into Sunday evening. It was too dark ride safely, no matter how much I wanted to log some miles. I was quite disappointed. All I needed to top off my excellent week was a simple bike ride, but now the opportunity was gone. I didn’t know what to do with myself except to drive downtown to check my post office box. A weak cure for frustration, I know, but I had to move myself somewhere, even if in my truck.

Later that evening as I told my sad story to Cyndi, I wondered where I had gone wrong with my plan for cycling Sunday afternoon.

But I hadn’t gone wrong (other than poor flat-fixing technique). I had invested my week in the best things of life; the simple things, like chasing my beautiful granddaughter around the house, and standing in line at Sam’s making obscure wisecracks with my daughter. Those simple things bring me the most joy in life.

So I started making plans for Monday. I was certain I could squeeze twelve fast cycling miles into my lunch break. What could be simpler than that?

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

To learn about Berry’s books, “Running With God,” go to ww.runningwithgodonline.com , or “Retreating With God,” go to ww.retreatingwithgod.com ,… Follow Berry on Twitter at @berrysimpson or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org