Journal entry 061611: Being together

So I watched the Dallas Mavericks win their first NBA title Sunday night, and it was fun to be rooting for the home team. I’ll confess Dallas is not my hometown, but we travel there often, and it’s in my home state of Texas, so I think that counts. And besides that, we were in Dallas just last weekend; it was great to see so many people wearing their blue Mavericks T-Shirts.

But I’ll admit I don’t qualify as a real fan. That’s why I didn’t buy a shirt when in Dallas. The only basketball I watched all year was the playoffs and I only watched then because one of our teams was in them. A part of me wished I were more of a sports fan, but I just don’t have the patience to sit through entire games night after night. Last summer I watched the baseball playoffs; again, it was because another hometown team, the Texas Rangers, was in the World Series. I didn’t watch a single baseball game during the regular season, or basketball game, either. I wonder if I should do better.

Part of the fun of jumping in and rooting for the home team is the chance to be one of us. I spend so much of my life inside my own head doing my own stuff all by myself, it’s fun to be one of us sometimes.

It’s one reason I try to run around White Rock Lake whenever in Dallas … even in the horrible June mid-afternoon heat. It’s a premier urban trail and a beautiful setting, and that’s reason enough to drive across town to run, but the deeper reason I squeeze it into my schedule is to hang out with everyone else. I’ve never run there when I didn’t see dozens of other runners and cyclists. And even though 99% of them are faster and leaner and more beautiful than me, and even though I’ll never meet any of them, and even though we never exchange more than a head nod when we pass by each other, I like being on the same trail. I like being where they are. I like being one of us.

Another example: Last Sunday our church held a combined morning worship service under a huge tent erected in the parking lot. Instead of splitting up for our regular three morning services we met together as one group under the tent. We called it Victory Sunday and it was part of the kick-off and ground-breaking for a significant construction project.

We celebrated Communion during the service, something we do not do every Sunday, which means I was on serving duty as a deacon. At least we didn’t have to wear our traditionally mandatory uniforms of coat-and-tie this time, a bow to the 90 F June heat. But we all sat together on the front row; actually, squozed together would be a better description than to say we were sitting. We were perched on tiny plastic chairs that were spaced for a young Brownie troop rather than a team of grown men. We got a lot of comments as the entire congregation passed in front of us to put pledge cards in the buckets - we must have looked funny sitting so close.

But the highlight of the morning for me was being one of us. As I watched the families file past and realized how many I knew personally, how many I had served with on committees, how many I had attended Sunday School class with, how many I had been influenced by and changed by and strengthened by, I was happy. And as I thought about the fine groups of men I was part of on the front row I forgot how crowded and uncomfortable we were and thought only about how fortunate I am to know them all.

I guess that’s what church means to me - being one of us. As individual members we’re are not alike at all - our stories are different, our families are different, our methods of experiencing God are different, our futures are different, our spiritual expectations are different, our rules of behavior are different, and on and on. But because we share the love of Christ, and we share the love of each other and the joy of serving together, we have more in common than we have different.

I should add that being one of us requires participation. You aren’t a real fan unless you watch lots of games and you aren’t a runner unless you run lots of miles. You have to participate. That’s why the author of Hebrews reminded us: “Let us think of ways to motivate one another to acts of love and good works. And let us not neglect our meeting together, as some people do, but encourage one another, especially now that the day of his return is drawing near.” (Hebrews 10:24-25, NLT)

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 060911: Asking for help

I’ll go ahead and say this right up front: I don’t understand prayer as much as I should. For me it is the hardest of the spiritual disciplines, spiritual conversations, to wrap my thoughts around. While I understand the importance of prayer and the value of prayer, not to mention the obedience of prayer, and in fact I enjoy prayer, especially when I’m alone and moving down the trail in relaxed conversation, it’s hard for me to know what to pray for.

Should I pray for great success in my projects, or should I pray for peace regardless of the outcome? Should I pray for book sales so huge everyone will know it had to come from God, or should I be satisfied and thankful for the loyal circle of friends and readers that God has pulled in around me? How do I honor the talents and desires God has given me without allowing ambition to take over my life? Which one is the path of faith? Which is the path of hope, or contentment, or gratitude, or belief? Which is the path of trust?

So maybe these questions are my feeble attempt at a mid-life crisis … as in, I want success to be more obvious now that I’ve lived more than half my life. Regardless, those are the questions that haunted me this week as I ran and as I biked. Don’t worry, I’m not wigging out over this, but I want to do the right thing. I want to get it right.

Last Friday I read from my Daily Bible about one of the kings of Judah, named Asa. He was an unusual king in that he “did what was good and right in the eyes of the Lord his God.” (1 Kings 15:11)

While he was king the nation was attacked by Cushites, a vast army with 300 chariots, a very serious threat. Asa called to the Lord his God to ask for help, saying, “Lord, there is no one like you to help the powerless against the mighty.” God answered his prayer and intervened in the battle, and Judah won a great, miraculous victory.

However, many years later, after a lifetime of leading the nation as a godly king, Asa responded to a lesser military threat from Israel by purchasing help from Syria. It was a strategic and spiritual mistake, and a holy man named Hanani challenged Asa for relying “on the king of Syria and not on the Lord your God.”

It’s a lesson about lowering your guard even after a long lifetime of following God. It’s a reminder not to depend on your own judgment, and not to trick yourself into believing your own superior problem solving skills were the reason for your long list of victories. Maybe Asa had been rescued by God so many times he took it for granted, convincing himself it was due to his brilliant leadership all along. Hanani told Asa something very powerful, and this is what caught my attention: “For the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him.” (2 Chronicles 16:9)

Hanani’s point: God was anxiously looking for an opportunity to bless Asa again. Obtaining help from God wasn’t tricky or hard - God wanted to help. He was looking for a chance, a clear shot. Asa just didn’t ask.

I occurred to me that maybe this was the answer to my questions about whether I should pray for success with my books or leave it alone and see what God does. I don’t want to be like Asa, depending on my own smarts. I don’t want to give up trying because it’s too much trouble to ask God for help. Maybe He’s still roaming the earth looking for someone to bless. I want to be on His list.

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 060211: Hiding place

On my most recent trip to the Barnes and Nobles on Mockingbird in Dallas I discovered a book by Michael Pollan titled, “A Place of My Own: The Architecture of Daydreams.” It is an account of Pollan’s quest to build a room of his own - a small, wooden hut in the forest, a “shelter for daydreams,” a place to write and read. I’ve only read the first 50 pages, and already I love his exploration of home and safety and accomplishment.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot on the topic of home. As in: Where is home? When do you feel at home? What distinguishes home from other comfortable places? How does a new and strange place become home? The questions come from my reading of Ephesians 3:17, “I pray that Christ will be more and more at home in your heart …” This notion that Christ can not only dwell in me, be in charge of me, lead me and guide me, but actually be at home in my heart, is intriguing.

For me it’s one of those epic questions worth spending a lot of thought on. If I can understand what home means, maybe I can do a better job making my heart into a comfortable home for Christ.

I’ll admit that part of my attraction to this notion of home is personality driven.  I’m the sort of person who needs private space and private time in order to remain mentally stable and productive. I need private sanctuaries where I can be by myself, surrounded by my own small pile of stuff that has no one’s fingerprints save my own. For me there is a connection between privacy and respect; if my privacy is invaded it feels like a loss of respect.

Having said all that, I don’t need or want to be private all the time. Just some of the time. I’m not a recluse nor a hermit. And the more secure my private space and time, the more generous I can be with everything else. But when robbed of my privacy, not only will I get short-tempered and tense, but you won’t get the best I have to offer. I’m not creative if my privacy bank is in deficit.

So back to Barnes and Nobles. After glancing on page six of Pollan’s book where he wrote about his search for “a space where I enjoyed a certain sovereignty,” I clutched it to my heart, and trotted all the way to the cash register. The statement felt true the moment I read it. In order for a place to feel like home, I need a certain level of sovereignty. In my own house, which I love, my sovereignty over space is not consistent. It’s weakest in the north end and grows stronger as I move southeast toward my closet, which Cyndi calls my man cave.

Pollan wrote about a tree house he had when he was a young boy, and the best part about it was the entrance - a small trapdoor in the floor that was too small for adults to fit through and accessible only with a flimsy rope ladder. Difficulty of access guaranteed privacy. Cool.

Reading about his tree house stirred a memory from my life in the 1960s in Kermit, Texas. We lived in the south part of town on Shannon Drive, and the endless mesquite pasture with all its mystery was only a couple of blocks away. The pastures weren’t as cool as deep woods would’ve been had we lived in northern New Mexico, but it was the wilderness that was accessible to me, and I couldn’t get enough. I spent countless hours exploring my patch of the wild, sometimes with buddies, but more often alone. Even then I was captivated by the combination of solitude and dirt.

We often built forts out in the pasture using found wood and abandoned car parts. Illegal dumping may be a plague on civilized society, but it is prime harvest for young fort builders. Our best and last fort was a lean-to built behind a huge mesquite, and it rested against a chain-link fence. If we had been the sort of boys who drank beer or snuck cigarettes or, dare I say it, smoked dope, this is where we would’ve done it. The real value of the fort was having a private place of our own. I spent a lot of time alone in that fort, feeling safe and sovereign, until one day it occurred to me that anyone and everyone in the Schlumberger yard on the other side of the chain-link fence could see right inside. It wasn’t as private as I’d hoped.

Well, after writing about our fort in my journal, I spent the rest of the day singing Steven Curtis Chapman, “You’re my hiding place, I’m safe in Your embrace, I’m protected from the storm that rages.” I also couldn’t shake off Psalm 32:7, “You are my hiding place; You will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.”

The curious thing is that I don’t remember thinking of my forts as hiding places. I grew up in a strong stable family without abuse or alcohol or drugs, the things most kids escape from. My parents loved me and still love me, loved each other and still love each other. I don’t remember a life of trouble that begged escaping. It wasn’t just solitude I was after, either. I was an only child during those years and spent most of my time by myself. No, it must have been something else.

So why did this verse and this song ring through my mind all day after I wrote about forts? Maybe there is more to this story than I have remembered so far? I’m hoping to learn more as I read the rest of Pollan’s book.

How about you? Did you have hideaway forts when you were young? Do you have one 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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 052311: Better together

When it comes to working out, I have consistently avoided group classes. The way I saw it, if you went to a class, you had to go on someone else’s schedule, at someone else’s location, do someone else’s workout, follow someone else’s rules, and listen to someone else tell you what to do and when to do it. One of my longstanding life goals has been to avoid letting someone else tell me what to do or when to do it.

But a few years ago I started going to a group weight training class at Gold’s Gym (Body Pump). I first heard of it from friend Jim Sales. When Cyndi decided she wanted to go, I wanted to go with her. Much to my surprise, not only did I enjoy the class, I got a lot stronger. In fact, I’m stronger today than I’ve ever been my entire life.

What I learned was that joining a group made the workout better. I worked harder and longer than I would’ve worked by myself. I lifted heavier weights. I couldn’t stop when I got tired, since there were girls in the room. I never had to think about what to do next, I just followed the instructor. I saw real results, and I kept going back. I was surprised to learn that I needed a group to do my best. I never suspected that.

And that brings me to what happened last weekend - which we spent along the Mansfield-Dallas-Plano axis. Cyndi had a workshop and I did my favorite thing - hang out by myself. I tried running at White Rock Lake Friday afternoon but I got rained out. But for me the highlight of the weekend - that is, besides playing with granddaughter Madden - was a Chi Running class we took late Saturday afternoon.

As the arthritis in my knees has progressed (I doubt that’s the correct word; it doesn’t feel like progress) I’ve realized my best strategies are to lose weight down to the 170-175 lbs. range (so far I have been dismal at getting that done, however) and Chi Running. It’s a running technique created by ultramarathoner Danny Dreyer to “heal and prevent injuries, to run faster, farther, and with much less effort, at any age.” It is rooted in a principle and philosophy similar to Tai Chi. I learned about it from reading Dreyer’s book in October 2006.

I’ll admit a bit of discomfort with the Chi part of it. I read the parts of the book that talked about the energy in our body that ties everything together, and while I am happy to admit we don’t know as much about human body as we think, and what we do know is just an approximation of reality, and while spending miles on the trails has convinced me there is more to the mind-body-spirit connection than I was taught in my conservative evangelical upbringing, I’m not buying into the Chi theory. It’s a little too spooky for me. But regardless of the philosophy, the resulting running technique should keep Cyndi and me running longer with fewer injuries.

Like all technique-centric activities, you need personal coaching to get it right. You can read the books and listen to the podcasts and watch the DVDs and learn the terminology, but you can’t know if you are doing the technique correctly without someone else observing, and it works best when the outside observer is a trained instructor who knows the clues and can teach the subtle differences.

Some sports, like golf, or tennis, or baseball come with the expectation that the participant needs expert coaching to get really good. But since we’ve all known how to run since we were children, running isn’t usually considered to be on that list. However, even something as simple as running can be improved, and with people like us, over 50 years old who intend to run for decades longer, incremental improvements can have lasting benefits.

So I researched the internet for instructors in the Dallas area and wrote to two of them. David Saltmarsh was the first to respond, so I set up a session with him for Saturday morning. But then Cyndi told me she wanted to go as well, so I moved our session to Saturday evening.

I’ll admit that, at first, I wasn’t happy that I had to share. Typically, if we both go to something like this, Cyndi gets 75% of the instruction and the instructor’s attention. But this time I was wrong. The session was great and David was specific and patient and gave both of us lots of individual attention. And of course, we learned more by being there together (a group).

David told me to work on my posture, straighten my right foot, peel my feet from the ground instead of lifting my knees, and relax my ankles. I don’t remember what he told Cyndi to do, but I’m sure it was a lot, knowing how sloppy she runs. (I do remember that my arm swing was perfect and Cyndi’s was deficient. There’s that.)

It was a good session, and while I don’t do Chi Running very well, yet, I can do enough to know it will help me - I’ve seen the future.

But my lessons learned these past few years are bigger than running or weight training. Coaching and groups have been a big part of my growth as a Christian man. I’ve heard speakers say that the fruits of the spirit - love, joy, peace patience, etc. - should grow out of us naturally as we allow the Holy Spirit access to our lives, and that we shouldn’t have to work at it, but in practice I’ve never met anyone who grew in spiritual maturity that didn’t take deliberate and intentional action, usually in the form of spiritual disciplines and coaching (or, as we call it, discipling or mentoring). Every strong believer I know has become strong by learning from others.

Throughout my life I’ve been blessed with a series of leaders and teachers who’ve taught me how to live as a Christian man. And even today, I am being taught by a community of men around me.

I’ve learned that you cannot do this alone. You cannot find healing alone. You cannot find peace alone because God did not create you to do it alone. You cannot live a significant life without others – no matter how intelligent you are, how gifted you are, how creative you are, or how many books you read. Your fate is not the result of your faith alone, for no one stands alone. Without the involvement of others in your future, you have no future.

Once we decide to invest our lives into each other – not for personal gain – but to help us live out our own dreams – we’ll both be changed forever. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll be good enough to give Chi Running lessons to you!

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 051911: Things that still matter

Tuesday morning, while sitting in one of my favorite booths, I read this: “The mind of man plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.” (Proverbs 16:9, NAS) It took me back to a Sunday evening in Norman, Oklahoma, in 1978, when I was reading in my Bible and came across this same verse. Although that night, when I read it, the words I heard in my brain were not exactly the same as the words printed on the page of my Bible. Somehow they morphed into a different phrase as they passed through my eyes. The phrase that reverberated through my brain was, “Marry Cyndi.”

The statement wasn’t totally out-of-the-blue, as if it were about some girl I didn’t know except to see across the college campus. Cyndi and I had been dating for two years. Well, we attended different universities and lived several hundred miles apart, so our dating took place during summer breaks and Christmas holidays. We wrote a lot of letters and made expensive long-distance phone calls. And to be honest, I’m pretty sure Cyndi had been thinking about marrying me for a long time before I got around to thinking about it. Being a woman of action, she was ready.

(On a side note: while working on this Journal, I sent Cyndi a text: “When did you first start thinking about marrying me?” I was expecting, at the earliest, after our first summer together. She wrote back: “As a sophomore in the high school band while sitting in the percussion section.” Two observations: (1) I was stunned that I made her list of potentials so early, since I didn’t expect to be on anybody’s list in high school; and (2) Guys are always surprised at how early this topic comes up among women.)

Sitting in my apartment in Norman, a man of patient contemplation, I wasn’t finished thinking about marriage yet. I still had more analysis to do, more options to weigh, more data to consider, more courage to ramp up; and I might have done exactly that for another couple of years except for that Sunday evening message when God told me: “Trust the plans you have in your mind because I have been directing your steps all along.”

After than night I never doubted the decision again. I still had to ask Cyndi (we hadn’t talked about it - at all - up to that point), and that was a frightening thought for me. I wasn’t scared that she would say “no,” but I was nervous about making a lifelong commitment when I knew so little about life-long things. The big-pictureness of it all scared me.

Sunday morning in our young adult Bible study class (I was there as a teacher, not as a young adult) we talked about how simple daily decisions might matter for decades.

I mentioned to them that that very morning we sang/played “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” in the 8:30 AM retro-worship service. The hymn was written in 1529. Martin Luther was simply expressing his faith through music, yet we are still singing it 482 years later. Of course he had no idea it would last so long … if he had known, it probably would have paralyzed him and he might’ve been unable to write any songs at all, much less inspiring ones.

How we live, how we tell our story of God’s grace, might matter for a very long time.

I also told a story from last week when I went with my Mom and Dad to tour a garden home in the Manor Park Village. They’re considering a move to Midland, and we wanted to see if this was a space they could live in. Our host, owner of the garden home, was a delightful 95-year-old woman who showed us her living room and bed room and closets and bathroom and kitchen, all without fear. But when she offhandedly mentioned that she’d once lived in Kermit, Texas, I saw both of my parents stop in their tracks. They started throwing out names of people they both knew, and quickly determined that our host sang in the choir when my Dad was the music minister at Grace Temple Baptist Church, around 1963. What a cool and unexpected reunion.

Once again I was reminded that how we live our life might matter, still, even 50 years later.

In the margin of my Daily Bible, next to Proverbs 16:9, I once drew a small heart with an arrow through it, to remind me of the importance of the verse. (Based on the ink color, I did the drawing in 1999.) And Tuesday morning when I saw it again I was reminded once more how the grace of God can span decades. I was glad I’d drawn the picture. I need constant reminders in my life, especially about important spiritual events. Otherwise I’ll talk myself out of believing it was God’s direct intervention. That heart-with-arrow is an Ebenezer mark for me, and reminds me that it matters how I live.

In this case, it has mattered for 33 years.

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 051211: Closing the gap

This is one of my favorite Bible verses: “Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you your heart’s desires.” (Psalm 37:4 NLT) Unfortunately my heart’s desires seldom square with my own performance.

I was reading “A Hidden Wholeness,” by Parker J. Palmer, and he wrote, “As the outer world becomes more demanding … the more we stifle the imagination that journey requires. Why? Because imagining other possibilities for our lives would remind us of the painful gap between who we most truly are and the role we play in the so-called real world.”

Friday morning I went out early on my bike, hoping to get in a significant ride before the wind got bad. Since I’m on Kevin Duty Saturday mornings, I try to work in my long rides or long runs on Friday. For me, a long ride is 25-30 miles, and I was planning to ride from my house west through neighborhoods, eventually finding my way to Highway 191. I knew if I rode all the way to Mid-Cities Church before turning back home I would get in a good 27 miles.

I discovered during the first mile that my plan to beat the wind failed. I left the house at 8:00 AM and the wind was already howling from the southwest. My bike is a hybrid, meaning narrow tires but straight handlebars, so I have few aerodynamic riding options. Mostly I just keep going. I remind myself that since we don’t have hills around Midland riding into the wind is the toughest thing I can do.

I was pushing past Grasslands toward the Highway 158 cutoff when I noticed two cyclists coming up behind me. I’m used to being passed, whether riding or running, so it was not surprising that they gained on me. As the two women passed, one of them said, “Good morning, sir. Good ride.” I was hoping she called me “sir” because of the gray in my hair and beard - it made me feel a little better about being dropped so quickly if I imagined I had 20 years on them.

The two riders ducked under the 158 underpass and headed back toward town, and I thought, “Of course they passed me. They aren’t going as far as I am. I’ll bet they’re headed back to Starbuck’s. Besides, they don’t already have 10 miles in like I do.”

I felt smug and manly for the next three miles because the women turned back and I was still bucking the wind. Until, that is, about a mile before the Mid-Cities turnaround, when I noticed three more cyclists coming up hard behind me. As they got closer I recognized the same two women who’d passed me before. Bummer.

They rolled past me with ease. Apparently they were fighting a different wind than I was. And, they were accompanied by a gray-haired gentleman, at least as old as me, riding a recumbent bike. Not only did they NOT go back to Starbuck’s, they picked up a friend and managed to ride me down a second time. And as I took measure of my defeat I noticed that the three of them rode past the Mid-Cities turnaround, meaning they were also riding further than I was.

It is a hard lesson to realize your best efforts can be exceeded so quickly, almost effortlessly, by someone else. Knowing I am a beginning cyclist and they had lots of miles in their legs, knowing I will get better and stronger and faster as I ride further more often, made me feel a little better. But. Still.

It would be easy to put my bike away with the justification that getting passed so soundly while I was riding my best meant I should stop and try something else. The painful gap, as mentioned by Parker Palmer, between who I really am and who I want to be, might be too wide to bridge.

I remembered a similar incident from the NYC Marathon when I was passed by a guy wearing a pink tutu and juggling three yellow tennis balls. He ran right past me and on down the street, juggling all the way. Even while doing my best I was still passed by a juggling goofy guy.

The thing is, a cycling gap is easy to digest, and more time on my bike will reduce it. The gaps that are more troubling are those between my perception of myself and the reality as a husband, as a father, as a writer, as a teacher.

But if we sit down every time we get passed we’ll spend our entire life in the chair and never on the road. We’ll never experience the journey God has for us. We’ll focus all our energies on the size of the gap rather than on the dreams in our heart. And the world won’t change, and no one will miss us when we’re gone.

Fortunately we are not alone when it comes to closing those gaps. We have the Holy Spirit to help us, and we have each other.

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 050511: The need to love

She said, “You’re perfect. You, the ball, and the diamond, you’re this perfectly beautiful thing. You can win or lose the game, all by yourself. You don’t need me.” It was Jane Aubrey’s breakup speech to professional baseball player Billy Chapel, in the 1999 movie For Love of the Game. She said it on the morning of his greatest game, even though neither of them knew it would also be his last game. It was a great movie, one of those movies I missed when it was first released.

It’s a movie about a hall-of-fame-bound pitcher who’s natural talents allowed him to remain in adolescence until he was 40 years old, when he finally realized he needed other people, specific people, to make his life meaningful. Before that moment, he didn’t need anyone, or at least, didn’t want to need anyone.

It feels and sounds noble to not need anything or anyone, to be self-sufficient, to not cause trouble for anyone, to be one-man-alone, to be low-impact and low-maintenance, but it comes at a high price. The best day of his career, not just best for him but best in the world of baseball, ended with Chapel sitting in his hotel room all alone, by himself. A high price for self-sufficiency

Watching the movie made me wonder, can you be in love with someone if you don’t need them? Is needing someone a prerequisite to being in love? I wonder how many people refuse to fall in love because they are afraid to be needy.

Allowing yourself to need someone means willful vulnerability. It means risk, and there can be no love without risk. If nothing is at risk, that’s just dating fun-and-games.

Of course, “loving” someone and being “in love” with someone are different relationships. As in, I can love you and take care of you and even sacrifice for you without being in love with you. However, I don’t think I can be in love with you unless I need you.

Does God love us without needing us? It’s hard to believe an omnipresent, omniscient God, total and complete in Himself , needs anyone or anything.. But in the Bible we read story after story about God coming after His people to give them more chances. Maybe He does need us? Or maybe He needs to love us?

How should we respond to God’s love? Some of us try to earn everything we receive, so we don’t really need any help. We can handle it all as long as we know the rules and expectations ... but that isn’t really about love, it’s about achievement. However, there is another possible response. Because of God’s grace, everything we need is freely given to us, which allows us to be dependent and vulnerable and needy. That opens the door to love.

It also describes a good marriage.

I know that For Love of the Game is just a movie about baseball and I’m probably laying too much of a burden on the story, but sometimes I get a movie in my head and it stays there for days, rolling around like Billy Chapel rolling a baseball in his hands. It happens to me when a movie taps into a bigger story than they know. It is that bigger, epic story that captures me.

So here is my own epic love story. I was feeling independent and self-sufficient, like most young men, and didn’t know I needed Cyndi, until I lost her. It was May 1978. Fortunately for me I was only 22 years old with plenty of years ahead of me to learn how to be needy. And now, 33 years later, it makes me happy to need her. Anything less wouldn’t be love.

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 042811: Not the easy way

It seems I am often telling my 8-year-old nephew that he can’t always take the easy way out, can’t always make the easy choice. I am usually saying that when he wonders why I parked my pickup so far from the front door of Lowe’s when there were several obviously available parking spaces much closer. Back in the old days when my own kids asked why we parked so far out I’d answer, “Because we are the long distance family,” and they would roll their eyes and be sorry they asked.

I tried that one on Kevin a few times but he reminded me that I was his uncle and not his dad, so he wasn’t technically part of the same long-distance Simpson clan. So I switched to my “don’t always do the easy thing” pitch. He hasn’t bought into that one, yet, either.

“Why not do it the easy way?”

“Because if you always do things the easy way, if you always look for the easiest way out, you’ll end up a very lazy grown-up, and lazy people can’t change the world.”

Kevin isn’t yet rolling his eyes at me like Katie did, but girls come to the eye-rolling move much younger than boys. However, I’m sure he thinks I’m wacky and out-of-touch and too old to be trusted, the same way I thought about my own dad, and he thought about his dad, and so on, all the way back to Cain and Able doubting the things Adam said. It’s the generic response from kids when their grown-ups turn small decisions into grand character-building opportunities.

At this point, Kevin doesn’t care about changing the world. But he does hope to avoid all inconveniences and detours, the sooner to get back home and return to his MacGyver DVDs.

And I’ll admit, I often wonder the value of doing the hard things. I remember a couple of years ago, after I came home from one of my solo backpacking trips into the Guadalupe Mountains, I was exhausted from hauling my heavy backpack full of water up 3,000’ feet to the campsites and my knees were sore and I wondered if there wasn’t a place I could go with available water that didn’t require such a huge climb as the first thing.

After a few days of recovery I realized that there was still some value in what I was doing, God was still speaking to me through the effort and I shouldn’t be so quick to find an easier solution. Maybe there will come a day when an easier trail is the right answer.

I recently heard James Johnson read his (This I Believe) essay about what he learned while duck hunting with his dad: “I learned that discomfort is transient. I learned that I was a welcome burden to my dad, that life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life. I believe we need the encumbrance of challenge.”

I once wrote about this sort of thing myself while sitting at the junction of Tejas and Juniper Trails, leaning against a fallen log. I was mulling over the burden that comes with love and family. There is no love without struggle; love is a package deal. I knew a man who tried to be a husband and father without taking any of the daily burdens - he didn’t understand love. He claimed to be making things easier on everyone else, yet he missed his opportunity to change his part of the world.

But now, in the name of full disclosure, I cannot write about taking the easy way out without confessing my lame attempt at biking on Tuesday. I left the house all psyched to fight the wind like a man of bold character, knowing I could bask in my superiority later that evening in front of my woman at Taco Tuesday. But when I turned my bike west on Bluebird Lane, into the wind, and my speed dropped to 7 mph, and I knew there was nothing but 3-1/2 miles of humiliating headwind before even the slightest break, well, I broke my resolve. I turned my bike around and rode - well, flew - back home, enjoying the benefits of a strong tailwind while doubting if I was really a manly man. Afterward I went to Gold’s Gym to ride the stationary exercise bicycle for half an hour to recover some portion of my pride.

It isn’t about always doing things the hard way; it is about not always avoiding the hard things simply because they are hard. Sometimes when Kevin is not with me I park as close as possible to the front door of Lowe’s. No need to be stubborn about it. We don’t have to seek out burdens; life brings enough on its own. Just don’t be too quick to avoid them. A life without burden is a life without weight, a shallow life.

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 042111: Conversations from the trail

Last Saturday I joined 35 other people from Midland to hike the trail to the top of Guadalupe Peak, the highest point in Texas. Even though it was my 15^th trip to the top, the hike hasn’t gotten any easier. It’s a hard day every time we go.

I told Paul, after we finally cleared the opening mile of switchbacks, “Surely there is an easier way to do ministry.” Well, there might be, but I doubt easier is the same thing as better. I don’t know any other way to duplicate the time I get to spend with my guys; the extended conversations along the trail are my favorite part of the trip.

This time I talked about our trip to Austin the previous day to meet with the Teacher Retirement System folks. Cyndi is ready to move into the next phase of her life, devoting her energies to her studio, although those who know Cyndi also know she can never put all of her substantial energy into one single effort and that she will always have two handfuls of projects to fill one handful of time. Moving into her next phase requires retiring as an elementary school teacher. She is ready.

What we learned in Austin was helpful and necessary - but it wasn’t what Cyndi expected or wanted to hear. We were planning on May 2011 for retirement, but TRS was planning on January 2012. Eight months is a short interval in the spread of our lives, but it is a huge time period from the perspective of today.

One fellow Iron Man hiker talked about the recent news of his upcoming career change and how the final position that he accepted was the one he’d preferred all along had he been given first choice, but one he thought was impossible because it was already filled. He said he would not feel comfortable praying for the other person to leave, so he pursued other jobs. So the answer to his prayer, while better than his immediate request, was not what he had been praying for (job #2 rather than the coveted job #1). He was happy the way it was working out, but curious that the answer to his praying was for a question he hadn’t asked.

Another Iron Man talked about his position as a university professor and how it felt very precarious in light of current state budget predictions. It is easy for us to say government spends way too much money; especially if we aren’t talking about the salary of a gifted and dedicated hard-working family man. He talked about his options should he lose his current job, and we wondered with him about his future and what could we do to help.

Both conversations, about men praying for specific solutions while knowing God’s answer might be something totally different, reminded me of the Bible story about a rich young man who approached Jesus and asked, “Good Teacher, what must I do to get eternal life?” Jesus answered, “Why are you calling me good?” (Mark 10:17-18)

Jesus changed the opening question from what the man asked to the question the man should have asked. The man asked about eternal life, but it mattered more who he thought Jesus was. Jesus addressed the heart of the issue, “Who do you think I am.” How could the man follow advice from someone he didn’t know?

On the trail down the mountain I wondered aloud how often God answers the prayers we should have prayed rather than the actual prayers we were praying? Maybe we pray, “God, give me Option A,” but God knows what we should have asked for was Option B, so He gives us Option B instead. I expect that happens over and over; we only recognize it afterward, maybe a long time afterward..

In almost every case when I was aware God had answered a specific prayer in my life, especially prayers about career moves, He answered in ways I never anticipated. In fact, I often didn’t recognize His answer until months, even years, later, after I had enough time and distance from the immediate trauma to look objectively. More than once I sat across from Cyndi in a booth at Rosa’s ticking off the points where God had delivered exactly what I’d asked for yet not in the way I expected.

Some might say I was turning coincidences into answered prayer. Well, maybe, but I doubt it. Coincidences have never given me joy and hope like answered prayer has.

Maybe from now on my opening prayer should be, from now on, “God what should I pray for? What should I ask for? Teach me to trust you.”

To see photos from the hike: http://www.flickr.com/photos/berrysimpson/sets/72157626549736298/

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 041411: Some things I’ve been learning but haven’t been brave enough to write about yet

This summer I will turn 55 years old. To be honest, there are things I thought I would’ve outgrown by now, but haven’t. Apparently, outgrowing is messy.

Friday morning last week I was listening to a TED Talk Podcast while running (uncharacteristically,  before sunrise - Cyndi made me promise to get up when she did if I kept her up Thursday night). The talk was by University of Houston Professor of Social Work, Brene’ Brown, who described her first visit with a counselor, making this demand: “Here’s the thing. No family stuff. No childhood s**t. I just need strategies.”

Like Ms. Brown, I’ve spent my adult life seeking out strategies rather than causes.

I remembered back to 2003 when it took me three attempts to finish the book, Wild at Heart. Why would it take so long to read a book that has turned out to be a major influence on my life? Because I kept grinding down at the topic of personal wounds and spiritual attack. I thought it was psychobabble. I wasn’t interested in wounds. OK, so I was sure I had deep emotional wounds in my life just like everyone else, and I could even identify the results of those wounds from my own behavior, but not the wounds themselves.

My question to God was, “How should I deal with this” rather than “What are you saying to me; where am I hurting.”

It has taken eight years for me to understand.

I finally manned-up enough to pray, “God I want you to dig into my heart and show me the truth. You have my permission and cooperation.” The first time I heard back from God was late one Sunday night (Apr 2009), with this statement: “I am always second-string, never anyone’s first pick.” I understood immediately. That thought had lived in the back of my mind since childhood. I prayed: “What was that about?”

Three days later I heard the second message from God, while in the shower at Gold’s Gym: “I deserve better than I am getting.” And, immediately following: “If I don’t have a chance to win, I won’t play the game.” Again I knew in my heart those statements were true about me as soon as I heard them. Maybe they weren’t truly true, but they were truly from the deepest recesses of my heart. I prayed: “God, tell me more about this. Keep talking to me.”

It was a year before I heard another message (Aug 2010), this time it came during yoga class: “The wound you have been looking for all these years is this: you were THE second choice.” It felt frighteningly close to the bone.

The next day I spent a lot of time writing it all out in my journal. I sensed healing in the air and I didn’t want to miss the moment. Yet, what I wrote in my journal was something I would never have admitted out loud, something I would’ve argued against ...  until, it flowed out of my pen onto the page of my Moleskin: “When I depended on God most, He let me down. God cannot be trusted.”

Writing that with real ink in a hardbound journal was so raw and real, it took my breath. I had to sit back in my booth to settle my pounding heart. Yet, it felt true the minute I read it. Not true about God; true about me.

Old stories in which I thought God had let me down started flashing through my mind, flapping rapidly like someone thumbing a deck of cards. In that instant I saw them all. It was true. I’d never trusted God completely. In the deepest part of my heart I was convinced that God would let me down when I needed Him most.

The thing is, I never thought of myself as the guy who didn’t trust God, and I would’ve argued vigorously against that. Yet, I also knew I was not alone. The attack against my heart - that God cannot be trusted - is the oldest attack of all. It goes all the way back to Adam and Eve.

And another thing, when it comes to spiritual attack, there are no coincidences. The Enemy knows exactly when and where to hit us, to do the most damage, to take us out of the battle. Yet, I was reminded that it’s possible to rescue someone else even in the middle of a darkest wound. That is the grace of God.

It took a long journey down a crooked road for me to learn that I didn’t really trust God all those years. It also took a long conversation with a valued friend to find the peace I needed. Clarity is important, but it isn’t enough. Strategies aren’t enough, either. We also need community. We’re too close to our own stories, and we have too much at stake, to see clearly on our own. I needed someone else to listen, someone else to know. I’m walking lighter in my shoes now, relieved that I don’t have to carry my story alone. I have help.

And so, my daily prayer has become: “God, teach me to trust You.” I pray it several times a day. Every time I feel unstable, or misunderstood, or second-string, I pray, “Teach me to trust You.” I don’t want to spend the rest of my life fooling myself. I want to be the man who trusts God.

“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 … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org