Journal entry 082511: Freedom

Riding my bicycle as a young boy was my first taste of freedom, my first opportunity to travel out-of-sight of my own home, the first time I could choose my own routes. I could ride where I wanted all by myself. I was free.

When I was in elementary school I rode my bike to school almost every day, riding about a mile from our house at 1409 Shannon Drive to East Primary School (Kermit, TX). I must have been about 4^th grade, but the memories tend to run together, so I’m not so sure.

There were a few winter mornings when it was too cold to ride my bike to school and my mom would give me a ride in the car, but that meant I had to walk home at 3:00 PM, which I never wanted to do. I can remember weighing the decision – a warm ride to school but long walk home, or cold bike ride to school but a fun bike ride home. I chose the bike most often.

So maybe that’s why I was receptive when my son, Byron, decided he wanted to ride his bike to school all by himself. He was attending Rusk Elementary at the time so that made him a 1^st or 2^nd grader. We lived on Whittle Way, about a mile west of the Rusk campus (Midland, TX).

Byron worked on me for several days to talk me into letting him ride. He and I had biked many miles together, riding to Burger King or playing missile-lock on the streets around our house, so I knew he was a good cyclist. Still, we were talking about a little boy all by himself.

But he had a plan. He’d figured which neighborhood streets to take to minimize his time on busy Neely Street, and he could rattle off the streets and turns by memory even while standing in our living room. He was ready, and I couldn’t think of any reason not to let him try.

So after a week of listening to Byron describe the adventure I finally told him he could do it as long as I drove behind him in the car. The next morning he saddled up and rode the route with me trailing in my car about a half-block behind. He knew I was following because we left the house together, but you couldn’t tell by his actions - he never looked over his shoulder even once. He was eyes-ahead all the way. He stopped at all intersections, checked for traffic, and rode close to the curb and away from cars. He was amazing.

I followed him for a few days, still with no acknowledgment from him other than a short wave after he arrived at school and locked his bike to the rack. He wanted me to know he was brave enough to do this on his own. Finally, he asked if I was OK with it all and could I stop following him. “Sure,” I said. And with that, he was a free man, and I was a proud dad.

I told him about the time I was on my way to school when my bike chain jumped the sprocket. I unloaded my books from the baskets and flipped the bike upside down on the seat and handlebars and rethreaded the chain. It wasn’t easy to do in the days before derailleurs since there was little slack in the chain. It took me a long time to get the chain back on and to ride the rest of the way to school. When I rode up to the bike racks and saw the empty playground and quiet schoolyard I knew I was very late. School had started long before.

When I walked into my homeroom the teacher raised her eyebrows at my lateness. I told her about losing my chain and that it took me a long time to fix it. She was rightfully skeptical – either she’d heard that lame excuse too many times, or she doubted a kid could actually make a repair like that. But I showed her my hands, which were black with grease from the chain, and she smiled and told me to drop off my books and go to the boy’s bathroom and wash up. I think she was actually proud of me.

The reason I knew how to fix the chain was because my dad taught me. He taught me how to flip it over upside down to work on it. He taught me how to fix flats, take apart the crank and grease the bearings, and how to service the wheels and hubs. Riding my bicycle was more than freedom, it was also the first time I was responsible for maintenance. With freedom came the responsibility to keep the bike rolling. I loved it. It felt substantial to work on my bike.

The boys on my block, we rode our bikes everywhere - in the street or alleys or dirt roads in the surrounding pastureland. We often rode behind the city truck that was spraying DDT in the alleys to kill mosquitoes. It was a challenge to see who could ride the closest to the fogger for the longest, surrounded by the white billowing cloud of chemical vapor. We must have reeked from the DDT when we got home but I don’t remember ever getting in trouble with mom for smelling like a chemical dump. Maybe as young boys we smelled bad enough already, and the DDT didn’t make that much difference?

I remember we had all watched a movie about knights and jousting and we wanted to do something like that on our bikes without killing or maiming each other. The solution we came up with was grass bur fighting.

We would pick grass burrs and pull off the leaves so all that was left was a long stem and a head with 6 or 8 individual burrs clustered on the end. We’d gather up a handful of those and climb on our bikes and go after each other, holding the grass burs in one hand and throwing them at each other with the other hand as we passed by. You were lucky if they stuck to your clothing; unlucky if they stuck to your arm or leg, or worse, your face or neck.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about freedom lately, the freedom that comes with age. I am old enough now I can pick where I work, pick were I go to church, pick who I live with and love. I am free to buy better gear than I had when I was young in Kermit so I can handle the cold weather better. I am basically free to run or ride wherever I want.

However, freedom demands responsibility, since I have to answer for many of those choices. And not only does freedom demand responsibility, it needs risk. As youngsters, the wild freedom of riding fast with abandon came with the risk of crashing. Or the risk of a grass burr in your eyelid, or clothes that stunk from DDT.

Without risk there is no freedom, and without freedom there can be no joy. I’m not sure you can live a safe and risk-free life and have joy. It certainly won’t be free.

“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

Journal entry 081811: Changing story

Last Saturday - August 13 - we drove over to Hobbs, NM, to ride the Roll for the Cure 50K bike race: Mark Foster, Corry Callaway, David Nobles, Todd Green, and me. We took my pickup with a hitch-mounted bike rack holding three bikes, and two bikes in the bed on a rack built by Todd. All five of us rode in the pickup, and we had a great time talking about family, cycling, and ministry all the way there and back. Possibly my biggest spiritual influences in the past few years have been trips just like this one, traveling with guys, whether to hike the Guadalupes or a bike race. It’s especially true during the ride home; shared hard effort loosens guys up.

Todd raced the 100K, and would have finished at least 3^rd place but he got bad directions toward the end of the race from one of the course marshals, causing him to miss an additional loop. Even after returning to the course he still came in 5^th.

The rest of us “raced” the 50K. When we first started talking about doing the Roll for the Cure I briefly considered entering the 100K. I’m a marathon runner, after all. I might have been talked into it in a soft moment, but I’m glad we decided to do the 50K instead. When it comes to cycling, my legs aren’t my weakest link; that would be my seat on the bike seat. 50K was plenty.

David was definitely the strongest rider our group of four, and he pulled us most of the day. We each took brief turns at the front, but David did most of the work. I personally had my worst patch between miles 17 and 19 when I would’ve fallen off pace significantly had I been riding alone, but the presence of our team inspired me to keep working hard. I didn’t want to fall back and lose contact. Our plan was to keep our cycling speeds above 15 mph, a significant goal for us newbies, and by the time the day was over David had pulled us to a 17 mph average.

Cycling is new to me, at least in the modern era.  I enjoyed riding as a kid, picked it up as an adult in the late 1980s and early 1990s, but gave it up for some reason. I resisted returning to the sport for years despite sustained pressure from my brother, Carroll, who seized any opportunity to bring it up whenever I complained about sore knees. I used all the predictable excuses: I didn’t want to spend big money for a good bike; I didn’t like sports where the more you spend the faster you can ride; I didn’t have time to fit another workout into my schedule; riding among auto traffic was too dangerous; and, like that. Finally I was squeezed enough by Carroll and friend Mark to take it up again, and since I also wanted to ride with nephew Kevin, I bought a Fuji hybrid bike. Now I’m having a great time.

One thing I like about cycling is I have lots of room for improvement. At my age, I have plateaued in almost everything else that I do, but since I have strong legs and no lingering injuries to body parts important for cycling, I have potential to ride much further and faster than I have so far. I just need more time in the saddle. And I need a leaner motor.

Maybe what I’ve enjoyed most is doing something new. You know how it is - whenever you first start doing something, all of it is new and exciting, and you don’t really know what the significant or important parts are yet. Cycling. like running, takes a lot of miles to understand the subtleties, to get over the initial excitement of participating and start to understand the changes in your own heart and soul and mind and legs. And real change comes only through discomfort. Or at least, sustained effort. You must be willing to hurt in order to get better.

It has been suggested that I shouldn’t make everything an intellectual exercise and I should just learn to enjoy the moment. That’s probably good advice for most people. However, I know this about myself: If I’m going to take on something of value, I must become a student of it. I don’t mind being a beginner, but I don’t want to stay a beginner. It isn’t enough to participate; I have to understand.

I also know that I have to tell stories. For me, no adventure is complete if I don’t have a story to tell and someone to tell it to. I don’t enjoy participating unless I learn something, and I don’t enjoy learning unless I can share it. If I don’t have a story, well, it never happened.

If you are a regular reader you know whenever I write about running or backpacking or family life, or cycling, it’s never really just about those things. I don’t know how to distinguish between my spiritual life and what we used to call secular life. It is all life. It all runs together. All the stories mingle and overlap, and that’s the reason I tell stories. Sooner or later they all circle around to how we change in our hearts and in our minds.

I expect that will happen with cycling. I know I need to read more in order to know how to write better about cycling. And my observations will change as I change. I’m looking forward to it, I must say.

“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

Journal entry 081111: How many things do you carry?

I’m fascinated with how we decide what stuff to carry, and always trying to fine-tune my own collection. I want to know how little I can carry in my pockets and remain civilized, entertained, and productive.

So Kevin Kelly caught my attention with his question, “In ten years from now, how many gadgets will people carry?” asked in his blog titled “The Technium Update.” Kelly is the author of the best-selling book, “What Technology Wants.”

Kelly says that technology wants to specialize, and any device we carry today will have more specialized purposes in the future. More specialized means there will be hundreds of new devices in the coming years, but no one will need very many. He believes we’ll all carry two devices, one multi-function handheld device, and a larger tablet type device. The tablet might be a flat plank, like current tablets, or it may unfold or unroll or expand.

So, of course, I asked myself: How many things do I carry nowadays?

When I dump my stuff into the black plastic tray on my counter every evening I see: keys with knife, phone, wallet, pen, 3x5 cards, coins, breath mints, and watch. I also have reading glasses with me most of the time but they usually end up on my night stand on top of my book rather than in the tray.

I wish my pile was smaller, but I use each of those items every day, so I can’t reduce the pile much. I also can’t add to it since everything has to fit in my pants pockets. When I look at my pile of keys and stuff on my bathroom counter, I wonder how long I could survive if I that’s all I had. Of course, having a credit card in the pile is nice since I could buy anything else I needed.

We’ve been watching old 1980s MacGyver episodes on DVD with Kevin since MacGyver is a good example of a hero who saves the day without violence or a lot of gear. Sooner or later every story has a scene when MacGyver uses his Swiss Army knife to get out of a jam. He uses it as a knife, a screwdriver, an awl, a pry bar, and much more. I don’t remember seeing him use the corkscrew, but we haven’t seen all the episodes yet, and to be honest I always thought the corkscrew was a bulky waste of volume in a compact device. Surely the few occasions when a corkscrew was needed one of the other tools would work as well.

I have my own small Swiss Army knife on my keychain, and it has a knife, flat screwdriver, scissors, tweezers, and toothpick. It’s definitely designed to solve urban problems. I use the scissors more than anything else.

But really, the closest thing I carry to MacGyver’s multi-purpose Swiss Army knife, as far as solving daily problems and continually rescuing me is concerned, is my phone. It is my camera (which I didn’t even need to carry just a few years ago), computer, photo album (and way better than the plastic fan-fold albums I used to carry in my wallet), address book, calendar, calculator, gaming platform, FM radio, alarm clock, Bible, map, GPS, dictionary, weather station, conversion chart, calorie counter, video viewer, and cycling odometer. Some people used their phone as a portable book but I haven’t dived into that yet - I’m still an analog book guy, and the phone screen is too small for extended reading. My phone also has a cool simulated trombone, but all I know how to do so far is show it off; I can’t play any songs.

I can imagine in a few years that my phone will also serve as my credit card, driver’s license, insurance card, and library card, completely eliminating my need for a wallet. It might even replace my ring of keys someday, but changing all our locks to receive a code from my phone sounds expensive.

Oh, I forgot, I also use my phone as a telephone, and for texting and emailing and Tweeting and Facebooking, which are all extensions of the telephone realm.

So my phone is my Swiss Army knife. If someone made a phone case that actually had a pull-out knife and screwdriver and scissors, I would be all set. I would be MacGyver.

However, as I stared at my pile, I wondered what I’d be looking at if I piled up my behavior patterns and thought processes that I use every day and never travel without. Would I be proud of what I saw? Would it be truly essential stuff or just a lot of old baggage that I’m too insecure to toss over the side?

I hope I would see prayer in the pile, and a hunger for the word of God. I hope I would see a seeking heart. I hope I would see humor and fun and smiles.

Is my pile of particular habits and disciplines enough to get me through life? I don’t have a personality VISA card to buy my way out of trouble, I have to rely strictly on what I already have. However, I do have a deep source of strength in Cyndi, and unlimited survival resources in Jesus. Those aren’t bad assets.

So, what’s in your pile? How many things do you carry?

“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

Journal entry 080411: Prepared

 “Are you more afraid of missing out or messing up?” was my question on Twitter. How would you answer? The question came from something I read by Mark Batterson, that there are “two types of regret: regrets of actions and regrets of inaction.”

As for me, I’ve spent most of my life being afraid of messing up, making the big mistake, falling on my face, looking foolish, like an amateur, silly and insignificant. I didn’t want to regret my actions.

Now in my mid-fifties, I am much more afraid of the regrets of inaction. I’m becoming less afraid of messing up and more afraid of missing out. I don’t want to end up old and dried up wishing I had been brave enough to try stuff but didn’t because I was afraid of failing.

I like what the Apostle Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 6:1, “… please don’t squander one bit of this marvelous life God has given us.” I don’t want to squander.

I’ve wondered if my change of attitude is some sort of mid-life crises, where I worry about unaccomplished goals more than I worry about public failure. Or maybe it’s because the longer I live the lengthier is my list of mistakes survived, and the greater my confidence for future recovery and survival.

Or maybe it’s because I see the window of opportunity slowly closing and I know I have to make my move now to have time to get it done?

However, I think the biggest lesson I’ve learned is the futility of waiting until I am prepared and ready before moving forward. I now know that I’ll never be prepared enough, or ready enough, for anything.

So my new plan is to sign up for the race sooner, commit to the adventure right away, agree to help Cyndi now not later, and stop wasting so much time worrying about my preparations. Too often I’ve used my need for preparation as an excuse to never get started.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not becoming the sort of guy who dives into things without planning ahead. I was spontaneous once back in the 1990s and that has been plenty. I doubt I’ll become more spontaneous as I get older - I’ll still live by checklists and spreadsheets and still research my options before undertaking a new adventure. I’ll still put a lot of energy into preparation.

That’s easy to write, but hard to live out. I suppose you could say I’ve been preparing 50 years to be prepared enough to move forward without 100% preparation. And in spite of my dependence on preparation, our actual life history shows a pattern of hit-and-miss.

When Cyndi and I got married I’m sure I was not ready (since I had no idea what “ready” meant) but I spent a lot of time preparing. I probably thought I was ready.

And then when we had our first child, Byron, we were neither prepared nor ready. God blessed us with a sweet baby boy before we had a clue, and we had to learn on-the-fly. Had we waited until we were ready it’s possible we’d still be waiting.

For my first marathon attempt, I thought I was prepared and ready, but the race showed me I wasn’t. I came back a year later with essentially the same training and fitness but with a greater respect for the distance and demands, and I was successful.

When I made my first solo backpacking trip into the Guadalupes I was neither prepared nor ready. I had inadequate gear and scant knowledge, but I went anyway because I was tired of my own excuses.

As a writer, it took me way too long to finally publish my first book. I never thought I was ready. Now, working on my third, I realize I will never be fully prepared, and I’ll have to keep learning what I need to know through the writing process itself.

Dean Karnazes wrote about his first attempt at the Western States 100 and the run up the summit of Emigrant Pass and the peak of Granit Chief, at 9050’ elevation. As he neared the top he found himself in a short line of runners waiting to get water at the aid station. He was in the classic runner’s position, bent over at the waist with hands on knees gasping for breath. One of the aid workers filled Dean’s water bottles and then said, “You’re not going to be able to catch your breath standing here, no matter how long you stay. We’re too high up in the sky. Your only hope is to keep moving.”

It’s important to know that sometimes we will never catch our breath, never catch up, never settle down, and our heart will always be racing. We will never be prepared enough for the next part of the journey. Our best option is to keep moving forward. Keep our legs moving.

The reason I am writing about this is because it’s bigger than mountain climbing or marathon running. How many ministry opportunities have we squandered because we didn’t think we were ready? How many people failed to get the help they needed because we weren’t finished preparing? How many times have we failed to follow God’s will claiming the sorry excuse that we aren’t ready yet?

Seth Godin asked the question: “I wonder if there’s also a moral obligation to start?” He continued, “I believe that if you’ve got the platform and the ability to make a difference, then this goes beyond “should” and reaches the level of must. You must make a difference or you squander the opportunity. Wasting the opportunity both degrades your own ability to contribute and, more urgently, takes something away from the rest of us. To do less is to steal from them.”

Moving forward while feeling unready and Ill-prepared can be scary, I know. But we should be more afraid of lifelong regrets that temporary uncertainty. A life without fear is a life without accomplishment. Cyndi likes to remind, “Do something brave every day.” That usually means being scared and not being ready. If we have the means and ability and passion, we are stealing if we don’t act.

“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

Journal entry 072911: Finish work

So I was enjoying two tasty enchiladas for lunch at Rosa’s with Cyndi, Tanya (sister), and Teena (aunt), when we talked about serving and finishing. The conversation eventually turned toward sewing since all three women pride themselves for their skills. Apparently, Cyndi’s mother also had a reputation for being an excellent seamstress, and she sewed most of the girl’s clothes as they were growing up, but she was also well-known for not completely finishing the last details - specifically, cutting the buttons holes and adding buttons.

“How did you wear your clothes without using buttons?” I asked.

Cyndi and Tanya answered immediately in unison, “Safety pins. We had lots of safety pins.”

The discussion reminded me of the experience a friend had when he bought a house south of Midland. He noticed the previous owner had done a lot of remodeling and made improvements on the house and property, but seldom completed all the finish work. As Gary described it, “Everything was 95 yards and no touchdown.”

I remembered a Bible verse that says, “Now finish the work, so that your eager willingness to do it may be matched by your completion of it, according to your means.” (2 Corinthians 8:11, NIV)

I recently read a great book about architecture and building construction titled “A Place of my Own,” by Michael Pollan, and he compared finishing with framing. When we hear someone say - all that’s left is the finish work - it sounds like the construction project is almost over. Of course, that is completely wrong. Visible progress slows, changes are subtle, none of it seems heroic, but finishing the final details takes a long time.

Pollan wrote, “Framing, by comparison, is epic work: the raising from the ground of a whole new structure in a matter of days.” However, while “High ritual might attend the raising of a ridge beam, who ever felt the need to bless a baseboard molding, or say a little prayer over the punch list?”

When our own house was under construction in 2008, I would drive over every evening to stand on the same spot and take a photo. My goal was to have a slide show, a flip book, of the entire process. Being a process guy myself, I found the day-to-day progress fascinating, whether large or small. However, once the outside work was completed and the finish work begun, it seemed that construction slowed to a crawl. It didn’t, of course. The guys were still diligently working on our house. It’s just that it got harder to document in photos since it all took place inside.

I wrote in the margin of A Place Of My Own, “In my construction photo essay, you can’t see the finish work taking place. It’s hidden. Like character building, spiritual formation. But it’s the finish work that transforms a cold structure in a warm and cozy home.” Finish work, according to Michael Pollan, is concerned with “the intimate, inescapable surfaces of everyday life.”

The curious thing about finish work, especially for a house, is that it’s never finished. Even after we closed on our house and moved in, we were still working … adding shelves to closets, reworking the pantry, tweaking the irrigation system, refinishing the floor, etc.

It’s true for all houses, not just ours. Finish work is never finished. Not because the construction wasn’t done correctly, but because the inhabitants change … they get older, they take on new hobbies, they see a good idea in someone else’s house and bring it home, they want to keep up with changing styles and fashions, they add to their numbers.

And what’s true about finish work in house construction is also true about spiritual formation in our lives. It is never finished. Because we are constantly changing, we are growing, the details of our lives change, the people close to us change, we get older, we take on new ministries, we see good work in someone else’s life and bring it home to our own. Our finish work is never done.

Well, as I’m writing this I can think of several home projects I haven’t finished yet: my phone charger set-up on my bathroom counter, installation of outdoor speakers, repair of our drop-down movie screen, replacement of our home sound system. I am sure there are at least a dozen more projects I haven’t finished and should put on the list but I’m already tired of this topic and ready to move on to something else. Finishing can be exhausting.

However, aren’t you glad our spiritual finish work isn’t totally up to us and our own ability to persevere? We have powerful and persistent help. The Bible says, “He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6, NIV)

PS: It occurred to me as I was finalizing this journal, that once you move into a house no one compliments the framing. They notice the finish work: baseboards, kitchen cabinets, bookshelves, wall textures and colors. It is the finish work that makes living in house a pleasant experience, and it is the personal finish work that makes a life worth knowing. In the long run, it is the finish work that matters most.

“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

Journal entry 072111: It’s hard to wait

Cyndi and I recently spent a week in the Carson National Forest of northern New Mexico, where I was blessed to have my feet on dirt trails above 8,000’ elevation, the sort of situation that causes an introvert like me to evaluate his life and faith and trust.

One morning, while running and listening to a podcast, I heard a familiar Bible story from the Old Testament about the government transition that occurred at the end of Samuel’s life. Samuel was the spiritual leader for all of Israel, spokesman for God, and last of the national judges. The text reads: “When Samuel grew old, he appointed his sons as Israel’s leaders. The name of his firstborn was Joel and the name of his second was Abijah, and they served at Beersheba. But his sons did not follow his ways. They turned aside after dishonest gain and accepted bribes and perverted justice.” (I Samuel 8:1-3)

I thought it ironic that Samuel’s sons followed the same path as Eli’s sons. Eli was Samuel’s predecessor and mentor, and Samuel got his job because Eli’s sons were so corrupt. You’d think Samuel would have learned something about wayward sons from watching Eli’s family, yet here Samuel is facing the same problem with his own sons.

Samuel should have known his sons were not up to the task before appointing them. I wonder why he did it. Was he blind to their corruption, or did he know about it yet appointed them anyway? Or maybe he had no one else and just didn’t know what else to do, so he appointed them and hoped for the best.

The story goes on: “So all the elders of Israel gathered together and came to Samuel at Ramah. They said to him, ‘You are old, and your sons do not follow your ways; now appoint a king to lead us, such as all the other nations have.’” (8:4-5)

When the elders asked Samuel for a king, saying, “You are old and your sons are worthless,” their unspoken charge was that Samuel had failed. He hadn’t arranged for proper succession. He had let them down and now they had no future and it was all Samuel’s fault.

One wonders why the elders of Israel didn’t appeal to God first and ask Him, “What are You going to do with these dishonest sons of Samuel? What is next for us?” Instead, they asked for a king. God gave them free will to decide their course of action and they chose to be like all the other nations. It was peer pressure on a national scale.

Who knows but that they circumvented the will of God by asking for a king. Maybe God had a miracle planned for Samuel’s sons that would turn them around. Or maybe He had another yet-unknown leader picked out that He would call up as national priest, just like He did with Samuel to replace Eli’s sons. But because these elders pushed their own agenda through Samuel and asked for a king without even praying about it, they had to settle for less than God’s best.

So as I ran on that mountain trail in New Mexico, I wondered, how often does the voice in my head reflect what those elders told Samuel? How many times do I get impatient with God and push for my own agenda?

As in, “The people in charge aren’t doing a good job, I’m stuck with the goofy stuff they’re doing. They don’t deserve to be there and I’m just doing menial tasks that don’t matter. I’m tired of all that, and I want something else.” I am pretty sure I’ve prayed that exact prayer more than once in my career.

It would be easier to wait for God’s solutions if we knew for sure what He was going to do and when He would do it. But that wouldn’t be faith. Mark Batterson wrote, “Faith doesn’t reduce uncertainty. Faith embraces uncertainty. Faith has less to do with gaining knowledge and more to do with causing wonder.” (“In A Pit With A Lion On A Snowy Day”)

Jesus never promised security. What he promised was uncertainty. He didn’t give His disciples any details, just told them to “Follow Me.”

How many times have I pushed the wrong solution to a situation because I was in too big a hurry to wait for God to do it His way … and in His grace, He gave me my wish? Maybe His original path would have protected me from the unintended collateral consequences that always seem to accompany my choices.

When I am wallowing in self-pity like that, do I circumvent God’s best and miss his blessings?  I hope not. If I am willing to pray for God’s will, something I do frequently, I should also be patient for His will to unfold. It’s often hard to wait, but that is the essence of faith.

“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

Journal entry 071411: What it takes

The questions in the hearts of men are universal and consistent: Do I have what it takes? Can I pull this off? Will I be found out?

Guys will take on epic adventures to answer the question and prove they have what it takes to survive and prosper. But more often we stand against the wall and wait for the moment to pass, hoping to avoid doing something that will leave us looking foolish. We’d rather miss an adventure (or opportunity, or ministry, or relationship) than risk being found out.

Part of the problem is our cultural definition of what it means to be a real man. I found nearly 50 versions of the “50 Things A Real Man Should Be Able To Do” list, and they included things like:

Throw a punch

Chop down a tree

Jump-start a car

Change a flat tire

Build a campfire

Clean a paint brush

Point toward north

Avoid boredom

Tie a bowline knot

Change a diaper

Calculate square footage

… and on and on (a real man should know when to stop making lists!)

So I thought about that when reading a Bible account of a group of men who probably could have performed all 50 things on all 50 lists, and maybe even taught the classes. Reading from 1 Chronicles 5:24, it says: “These were the heads of their families: Epher, Ishi, Eliel, Azriel, Jeremiah, Hodaviah and Jahdiel. They were brave warriors, famous men, and heads of their families.”

These are prime qualities for an excellent resume - brave warriors, well-known and influential men of importance, leaders, responsible decision-makers. Yet the Bible goes on to say these manly men failed at the most important thing.

Verse 25 says: “But they were unfaithful to the God of their ancestors and prostituted themselves to the gods of the peoples of the land, whom God had destroyed before them.”

Because of their unfaithfulness God allowed an enemy nation (Assyria) to swoop in and defeat these men and carry them off as captives, spoils of war. Their families, friends, and neighbors all suffered because these men failed to be faithful to God. Even courage, fame, and influence weren’t enough. They were like the foolish man who built his house on the sand: they were swept away. In the final accounting, they did not have what it takes. They couldn’t pull off their single most important task.

So what should a real man (or woman) be able to do? What should be at the top of the list?

The Old Testament prophet, Isaiah, gave this insight to King Ahaz when he asked for advice: “If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all.” (Isaiah 7:9) It is our faith that gives us strength, gives us depth, and density. A person who professes no faith has little to stand on when the troubles come.

I once heard Erwin McManus challenge an arena full of Promise Keepers by saying: “The shape of your character is the shape of your future.” Not skill, but character. Not influence, but faith.

I thought of another story from 2 Chronicles 20:12, when King Jehoshaphat ended a long prayer for guidance with this phrase, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You.”

He was a king who understood the limits of his own wisdom, courage, influence, and power, and knew to stand to firm in his faith.

And so, my prayer, “Lord - I am asking you again to speak to my heart about teaching and writing and books and engineering and oil & gas and cash flow and publishing and marketing and being Uncle Berry and loving Cyndi and taking guys into the mountains and all that. I don’t know what to do, but help me keep my eyes on 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 or on Facebook … Contact Berry directly: berry@stonefoot.org … To post a comment or subscribe to this free journal: www.journalentries.org

Journal entry 070711: Foolish exposure

After my Tuesday morning run on the mountain trail, which made me very happy by the way, it was time to take a shower. The camp where we were staying had one shower facility to be used by everyone (well, one side was for men, the other for women), and since I wasn’t actually attending the workshops (like Cyndi was) I tried to use the facilities during class time so the official attendees would have better access. This time, though, I was looking forward to a new adventure.

The night before, during “silent time,” Cyndi had whispered to me, with roguish delight in her eyes: “I took an outdoor shower; I was butt naked, and there was a man in the shower next to me!” That seemed like the sort of thing I should know more about.

So I decided to investigate the shower arrangements more closely. Sure enough, there was the conventional indoor shower that I’d used the day before, and also an outdoor shower connected through a big glass door. It had a partition on the side toward the lodge shielding the view from conference attendees, and an eight-foot corrugated tin partition separating the men’s side from the women’s. It was impossible to see over or under or around the men-women divider, so I felt better about Cyndi’s earlier confession.

But the third side was open to the mountain and Aspen trees and the whole world. However, since it faced a ravine and a steep wall of tall trees, someone would have to go to a lot of trouble to spy on naked bathers - probably more trouble than an adult was willing to go to. (It would be a problem at a youth camp, though).

Still, while showering outside like that, even with the trees and the ravine, you are still naked and exposed and vulnerable in a way that seldom happens in the outside world. Even so, it was actually much more fun to use than the conventional shower; maybe because of the adventure, or maybe because of the rarity, but also because it felt free and wild. Cyndi and I both enjoyed it so much we continued to use it exclusively during the rest of our stay at the camp. I’ll admit it made me a little nervous to be so exposed in the bright mid-morning, but it was too refreshing to pass up.

 I told Cyndi, “It wasn’t being naked that made me nervous, but the fact I don’t look very good naked.” I looked and felt foolish, to tell the truth, and I expect almost everyone else in camp felt the same way about themselves.

And isn’t that the core fear and risk of being vulnerable: looking foolish? I, for one, have spent too much of my life trying to avoid looking foolish. I’ve avoided hard decisions and restrained my passions because I was afraid to look foolish. I was reading Mark Batterson while at the camp, and he was discussing the fear of looking foolish when he wrote, “Self-consciousness isn’t just a curse. It’s part of THE CURSE.” (In a Pit With a Lion on a Snowy Day)

It’s my fear of foolishness that keeps me from entering more road races, keeps me from moving to the front of the leadership line, puts me on the back row in Cyndi’s class, convinces me to keep my wildest hairiest goals private, stops me from improvising on my trombone, frightens me about pushing my writing beyond the safe inner circle, delays my writing more books, keeps me from praying for audacious results like 1,000 books a week, and terrifies me on the dance floor.

Well, back at camp - I don’t know if I would’ve used the outdoor shower if Cyndi hadn’t told me about it. Probably not since I didn’t even know it existed. However, once Cyndi, in all her wild excitement, told me she used it (“It was just me and the Aspens until, swoosh, the men’s shower came on”), I knew I had to give it a try. I wanted to be at least as brave as she was. Cyndi gave me the courage to go outside and risk being foolish. And I loved it.

I know that taking an outdoor shower is not very far along the risk spectrum, it’s really pretty tame, and it certainly isn’t spiritually significant; but overcoming the fear of looking foolish can be very spiritual. How many of God’s blessings do we miss because we are afraid of looking like a fool?

Enough of that; it’s time to change.

So here is my challenge: Do one important “foolish” thing for God this week and see if the blessing isn’t greater than the embarrassment. And write to me about what you did and how it turned out. I don’t want to be the only one exposed to the Aspens.

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

Journal entry 063011: Mountain trail story

Tuesday morning after breakfast I suited up and ran about three miles on the Icarus Trail. We were  staying at the Vallecitos Ranch in northern New Mexico. I was very happy to be back on dirt; that is, I was happy when I could breath. The lowest point on the trail was about 8,700’ elevation. There wasn’t enough oxygen for someone such as me.

It was very rough crossing the valley, like running across a plowed field; but the ground became smoother - or at least, more predictable - the higher I went. That is, except for the rocks and roots and twists and turns. It was wonderful. I had been looking forward to this for months.

It didn’t feel like I was running very fast, more of a shuffle, but even so I reached the top sooner than I anticipated. I ran up to a rock outcrop called Icarus Point, where Irishman Charles Wells carved a sculpture in 1981, designed so that a shaft of light will shoot through a small opening at sundown of summer solstice. I didn’t wait for sundown to see how well it worked. Besides, I’d missed the solstice by almost a week.

The path down the mountain back to the ranch joined a small portion of the Continental Divide Trail, and that made me even happier. I’ve dreamed of running the CDT and now I can claim I have … if only a very tiny bit.

However, it wasn’t the greatest or clearest of trails, and to be honest I expected the Continental Divide Trail to be a little more defined. If I’d gotten off the trail just a bit I doubt if I’d’ve found it again. It was easy enough to track while on it, but not obvious from either side once you strayed.

As I ran on the trail, as rough as it was, as easy as it would’ve been to trip and fall and get hurt and I’d have to use the rescue whistle the ranch hike-master made me carry and someone would have to come find me - all the embarrassing stuff - still, at least there was a clear trail to follow. It was great to know someone else had already come through here and picked the trail for me. Every time I saw a mark on a tree or one of the CDT badges I knew I was still going the right way. It’s always a relief to know I’m not lost. What a great place to be … not lost.

Having a trail to follow was a gift. I didn’t have to bushwhack. I still had to do the work, climb the hills, go down the ravines, avoid the rocks, and skip over the roots, but I had a path to follow.

Even more, every step I took left a mark on the trail and helped even a small bit to make it more defined for those following. Even though it didn’t seem like I was leaving much of a path myself, in fact, I was. When hiking on any trail we are depending on the trail blazers ahead of us and leaving tracks for the followers.

I couldn’t help but think about mentoring and how important having mentors is for living life as a strong follower of Christ. We should always have older and younger people around us, and I am speaking of spiritual age more than chronological age. We should always have someone to go to, and someone to give to. We should have someone blazing our trail, and someone following our own tracks.

I can’t write about mountain trails without mentioning one of my favorite trail markings: a stack of rocks known as a cairn. I can hardly pass by one without adding a rock of my own. Seeing a rock cairn reminds me that I’m not lost.

A rock cairn is proof positive that we are not alone. Someone has been there before us. And adding rocks to the cairn as we pass tells those behind us that they are not alone, either.

Let’s live our lives as if on the trail, reading the markings left by those strong in the faith, leaving cairns for those following.

“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 062311: Willing to change

I rolled over a birthday this week. I turned 55: the hump year of the hump decade of a life. However, We don’t invest much energy or attention into birthdays in our family, and when we do it’s for epic birthdays ending in zero. So we’ll party big in five more years.

On the page for June 23 in my Daily Bible I’ve written where I happen to be sitting each year when reading on my birthday. Most of the entries are from someplace in Midland, but one says “Oak Hills Church in San Antonio” and another says, “Dongying, China.” The most frequent entry is “Whataburger.” I am a predictable guy, I’ll admit. In fact, predictability makes me happy.

But I’ve been thinking a lot about change lately, being changed as a person, especially in my exploration of Ephesians 3:17 and what it means to be at home. Specifically, I’ve wondered about how our homes change us. One thing that’s surprised me about getting older is that I am more open to change now than I was when I was younger. I expected the opposite. I thought I’d get to be more set in my ways.

I’ve been reading A Place of My Own by Michael Pollan, and he included a famous quote from Winston Churchill: “First we shape our buildings, and thereafter they shape us.”

Having lived in a house we designed for 2-1/2 years now, we are the truth of Churchill’s statement. Cyndi and I spent five months working on the house plans - moving doorways, squeezing guest bedrooms, sizing bookshelves, locating light switches, eliminating excessive hallways, and on and on. We wanted a house shaped just for us so we could live the way we prefer. We might still be working on the plans even today had our patient builder Gary Kahler not gently suggested that we finish up since new building codes were going into effect and that always pushed the cost up. We completed our work that week.

But as much time as we spent shaping our living spaces, our lives have been shaped even more by the resulting house. Our patterns of movement, our private spaces, where we lay our sunglasses and keys, our dump-counter where we unload our arms of stuff after coming in from the garage. The floor plan has had an impact on me in ways I didn’t expect: my work habits, my routines, and my structure. The open spaces I helped to shape have shaped me into a more social person. In addition, we’ve lived with double the occupancy we anticipated, so that has instigated more changes.

Having said that, there are very few things about our house we would change if we had it to do over. Cyndi would put more pocket doors and fewer conventional swinging doors. We’d probably rework our drop-off area near the garage to make it more accessible, and we might reconfigure our bathroom for more light and to make room for Cyndi to sit at her counter. I would move a door or window just enough to eliminate the line-of-sight from our shower … if all the doors are open, which they often are, it is a clear visual shot from shower door through the bedroom, through the library, across the veranda, and into the kitchen. One morning I stepped out of the shower and realized I was looking at our friend and neighbor, Patti, who was standing in the kitchen visiting with Cyndi and Tanya. Oops; didn’t expect that.

Mr. Churchill’s statement is true about a lot more things than living spaces. It is also true about close relationships. Most of us began our closest relationship - marriage - by carefully selecting our intended partner and moving through the vetting process (dating), and after committing to the relationship we created, much like drawing up house plans, we learned that the process had only begun. From that point forward we are shaped and modified and changed by the relationship that we thought was just what we wanted.

That is, we are changed if we allow it; if we don’t stubbornly refuse.

It’s hip among motivational speaker types to say we should live our lives as thermostats rather than as thermometers. In other words, we should be the ones who initiate change rather than the ones who merely respond to change. I believe, in most cases, that is correct. It’s the reason I decided to publish my own books rather than continue to beg publishers to pick them from the lineup. I spent too many years standing against the literary wall frantically waving my hand back and forth while jumping up and down and hollering, “Pick me, pick me!” I decided to be a thermostat and initiate change. I picked myself.

But always being the initiator can’t be the whole story of life. Growing up means sometimes choosing to be the thermometer. Sometimes we allow ourselves to be changed … by places, by people, by God. We intentionally put ourselves under someone’s teaching or visit a holy place or dive into God’s Word hoping to be changed by the encounter.

To become our best we have to be willing to be changed by our environment, by our relationships. We have to be willing to be changed by God.

And so, we can consider change as as indicator. If we are the same person today we were five years ago, if we haven’t changed at all, we aren’t growing.

May we live our lives in strength ready to change the world around us, and may we be humble enough to let ourselves be changed.

“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