Journal entry 111711: Flying with the wind

Last Sunday I took my 9-year-old nephew, Kevin, bike riding with me at the Bikes & Barbecue Livestrong Ride 10-miler. There was also a 22 and 34 mile ride for cyclists older than 9. When I first floated the idea past Kevin the weekend before I said, “Ten miles won’t be a problem for you since we already ride eight miles when we go to Burger King.”

“But we take a long break in the middle, and eat lunch.”

“Sure. See what I mean? You won’t have trouble at all.”

I could tell he was skeptical of my reasoning, but he is surprisingly game for most of my wacky ideas. He agreed to give it a try. “Can we take breaks if I get tired?”

As the time drew closer, the weather forecast looked exceedingly windy and I told Kevin we wouldn’t ride if the wind was too bad. Sunday morning when we went to early church where I play in the orchestra, we both agreed the slight breeze was manageable and gave each other the Gentlemen’s Head Nod of Commitment. We were in.

By the time we’d loaded the bikes on my pickup, dressed for the ride, aired up our tires, and driven out to the Scharbauer Sports Complex, the wind had picked up a bit. After paying the fees and grabbing our packets, we walked back to unload the bikes and noticed the wind had now increased significantly. Still, Kevin was game for riding. He wasn’t really worried about the wind as much as interested in the free bottles of energy drink and hand sanitizer. I’ve never understood why kids who get everything they have for free are so captured by giveaways.

When the ride started, Kevin bolted to the front on his 20” Mongoose bike, very happy to be passing so many other riders. In fact, I didn’t catch up to him until after the 158 underpass where the course turned west down Highway 191, directly into the howling wind, exactly the sort of wind I had been hoping to avoid. Kevin got quite frustrated that so many cyclists were passing us. “Kevin, they are grownups. They have stronger legs that you do, and bigger hearts and lungs, and faster bikes.” It didn’t help much until I pointed out that no other 9-year-old had passed us yet. “I think you are the First Kid.”

It was brutal. I’ve ridden on Highway 191 many times on very windy days, but this was worse. Of course I could gear my bike way down so that it wasn’t much effort at all, but Kevin’s little single-speed bike couldn’t compensate. WeatherBug said the wind was 10 mph with gusts up to 36 mph, but on 191 we weren’t getting any of the 10 mph stuff. All we had were the gusts. We were constantly battling 20-30 mph headwinds. It was worse than I could possibly have anticipated when we made the commitment to ride. In fact, it was worse than all my worst-case scenarios I’d fretted about the preceding week. I didn’t want the day to be so bad he would never ride with me again.

But, there we were, on the road, in the wind. Kevin kept fighting it, so we set up a pattern of riding to the next billboard and stopping for rest and water. At every break Kevin would look behind us to make sure we weren’t in last place. For some reason that was very important to him.

Eventually we’d ridden far enough down the road that Kevin could recognize the big brown Mid-Cities Church building, our turnaround marker. I was worried that he might think it was too far away and get discouraged, but instead it made him happy  to know the turnaround really existed and wasn’t another one of my ploys to get him to ride further. “Kevin, you only have to suffer as far as that big brown church. Then you’ll get to fly.”

It took us a long time. Riding no more than 5-7 mph between breaks. Kevin could barely ride a straight line. But we made it, finally.

As we rode through the underpass at Mid-Cities, I was planning to give Kevin another break so he could catch his breath, but once he caught the tailwind, he was off. We rode all the way back, all five miles, without a break. (Actually, we stopped once so he could remove his cap (he wore it under his helmet, for some reason), but he said, “Uncle Berry, I don’t think that should count as a break.”

And we were flying. I looked down to notice we were riding 17 mph, a decent cruising speed for me, but a scary risky speed for a 9-year-old on a Mongoose. I’ll admit I felt a little irresponsible for letting him go so fast, and hoped I wouldn’t have to explain to his mother why he was busted up from crashing on the highway, but I figured he’d earned it. After all his suffering he had a right to know what it feels like to fly.

At one point on the easterly stretch of Deauville Boulevard, very near the finish, where the road was smooth and flat and gravel-free, I encouraged him to pick it up and see what he could do. We topped out at 19 mph, his legs pumping like a sewing machine. He said, “That’s a new high score for me.”

It was a successful day. Together we rode straight down the XFD column. Kevin did something completely over his head and did not quit. It was a chest-pounding moon-howling moment … one of those times when all the manly boys step to the front of the line. From now on we’ll stand a tip-toe when this day is named.

Afterward, as we racked our bikes, it occurred to me that we all have people we want to live up to, someone who’s approval matters most. Someone for whom we’ll push beyond our limits, and maybe even risk crashing, to hear a “well done.”

I remember when I first started teaching adult Bible study class at my church, Helen Spinks would stop her wheelchair in the hallway outside our room blocking my path. She’d look me in the eye and say, “Berry, I have heard great things about your class; I am so proud of you.” Another teaching mentor, Gerry, said, “I was so proud of you I almost busted the buttons off my shirt.”

Both of those comments were made over twenty years ago, but both keep me teaching even today. The people I wanted most to live up to were proud of me, and I have never forgotten it. I hope Kevin never forgets flying down Highway 191.

“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 111011: In the dark

Monday night I hurried home from work so I could squeeze in a run before it got too dark. It was my first run after Time-Change Sunday, and I just made it, arriving back among the houses as the sun went down. My favorite dirt roads are not lighted at all, and I’ll soon have to abandon them until next spring.

However, I actually enjoy running in the dark. Cyndi says I would feel differently about running in the dark if I were a woman, and all I can do is take her word for that, but being who I am, I like it.

I may be the only person I know who actually enjoys - looks forward to - the fall time change. I like early sundown, in spite of the fact I’ll lose my dirt trails.

Running in the dark feels quieter, and more personal. The city noises are dampened; like when you run in the snow. Running in the dark is more private than running in the daylight. People can’t see you and can’t easily recognize you if they do see you. I think a lot of people who avoid running outside because they don’t want to be seen, either because they run too slow or because they think they are too large, should take advantage of earlier sundowns and run in the dark.

And another thing. When I get home in the evening in the summer and it doesn’t get dark until 9:30, I never really relax. It doesn’t feel like I am inside to stay when it is light out. As long as the sun is up I may have to go back outside and do chores is what I keep thinking.

But after the time change, when it gets dark by 6:00 (like Monday), when I get home, I’m home to stay. No chores; too dark. As soon as possible I change into my flannel pants and Crocs and I am inside and down for the evening. I can nestle in my big brown chair with a book or Sudoku, or type essays on my laptop at our library table. It makes me happy. It feels like home.

I also like the cooler weather that usually accompanies the time change. I enjoy running when it’s cold. Of course, the main reason I like cold weather running (and I’m talking about Texas cold, not Michigan cold) is I get sick of running in the summer heat by mid-July, but following a close second to that is the anonymity. Once I am bundled up in a fleece or rain jacket, knit hat, long pants, gloves, I am hidden to everyone but myself. It feels like a safe refuge, a cocoon.

Cyndi and I were I Denver last week for a Society of Petroleum Engineers Awards Banquet, and Wednesday morning we got to run in the snow.

I’ll admit, when we first got out of bed about 8:30 AM and we looked out our 12^th-floor window, we saw the flags whipping in the wind and decided not to go run. (I think either of us might have gone anyway had we been alone, but we’re more cautious and deferential when together). So we dressed and went down to the l Starbucks on the first floor. Since we were staying in a fancy high-priced hotel, we had to pay for everything we usually get for free when staying at the Courtyard. Like breakfast.

While enjoying our coffee and tea and scones we noticed that it was still snowing outside, but the flakes were tumbling down and were not driven by the wind, so maybe the wind wasn’t as bad as we’d thought. We hurried back up to our room, changed into winter gear, and left for a 30-minute run, 15 minutes out-and-back. We’d burned up too much of the morning to stay out any longer.

Well, of course, it turned out to be glorious. Not too cold, but fun in the snow. We both got back to the hotel about the same time, both very glad we went. It was some of the best 30 minutes of the trip.

One thing I have to mention: The disadvantage to earlier sundowns and cooler weather concerns my recently rediscovered activity: cycling. I am not yet brave enough to bike in the dark, and don’t own enough gear to bike in the cold. Maybe that will come soon. I hope so.

“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 110311: Somewhere else

One of our favorite things, for Cyndi and me, that is, are study dates, when we sit in some restaurant (usually Rosa’s) and work on lessons and journals and lesson plans and grade papers. We may camp out for two hours, and enjoy each other for every minute of it. However, there usually comes a time when one of us needs to move on to something else. Maybe, anything else. Enough is enough. We’ll say, “I’ve got to move; I’ve worn out this chair.”

I recently learned that we aren’t the only ones who need to go elsewhere, anywhere, somewhere, sometimes.

I was reading Mark 1:38, when Jesus, hoping to avoid the crowds and maybe expand his listener base, said to His men, “Let’s go somewhere else - to some nearby village - I can preach there also.”

My first impression upon reading this was how vague it sounded. Jesus said: Let’s go somewhere else. He didn’t seem concerned with exactly where He went, but that He wanted something new; He wanted something else. He almost sounds indifferent, as in “Right, left, makes no difference to Me.”

For us, this need to move often shows up in bigger scenarios than leaving Rosa’s; maybe in a career move, or a change in activities or friends, a new ministry, or even a desire to add more discipline to life. We sense that we need a change of pace and a change of location, but we don’t know what it should be. We just know we want something else. In fact, we may have to pull up stakes and start moving away from where we’ve been before we learn our next destination. Clarity may come only on-the-fly.

I’m always more comfortable if I know exactly where I’m headed before I start moving, but that hasn’t been the most frequent pattern in my life. More often I have to move first - or in the case of a few employers, get thrown out the door and into the street first - long before I know where I should go next. I’ve seldom had the opportunity to line it up, step after step after step, the way I’d prefer.

My second impression upon reading Mark 1:38 is that often we suppose if we walk with Jesus daily, if our relationship is close enough and deep enough, we’ll know exactly what He wants us to do and where He wants us to go. We’ll be close enough to hear those softest whispered directions and feel every nuance and indication. We’ll be dialed in, and it will be great.

But the disciples lived as close to Jesus as possible, heard Him speak, watched Him eat, could read His body language and facial expressions, were able to see when Jesus leaned to the right or to the left, analyze when He picked up the pace or slowed down His stride, and still they were confused most of the time. And even being so close as all that, what did Jesus say to them? Let’s go somewhere else. And He left it hanging out there as if expecting the guys to finish the sentence or make suggestions.

Don’t I usually hope for more specific directions when I pray for God’s will? When I pray day after day - Where do You want me to go? Where are You taking me? Speak to my heart so I’ll be ready - I expect, or at least anticipate, something more specific than “go someplace else.”

But I’m not sure why I expect specifics. Most of the time in the Bible Jesus said things like “Follow Me.” No details, no clues about how to pack my suitcase or how many books I should take and should I bring my running shoes because I always hope for time to run and should I pack an umbrella or a swimsuit. None of that, just, “Come.”

And another thing; when we read the Bible stories of Jesus telling people to “Follow Me,” it never comes across as demanding or abusive. It never sounds like a drill sergeant yelling “When I say jump, don’t ask why, just jump; your only question is ‘How High?’” None of that from Jesus. His vagueness was not some sort of initiation rite, but encouragement for listeners to care more about who they followed than where they went.

Granted, not everyone followed Jesus. Some turned and walked away because they were carrying too much baggage - whether possessions or responsibilities or expectations - and couldn’t follow such a vague command.

I suppose that implies if we want to follow Jesus, we should be prepared to travel light. Be nimble and responsive, ready to drop what we’re doing and follow Him, right now, to somewhere else.

So, our prayer should be: Lord, teach me how to keep a loose grip on all this stuff of my life, all these responsibilities, awards, attention - ready to follow You anywhere. Even, somewhere else.

“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

What we leave behind

I knew this moment would finally come, and yet it still gave me pause when it happened. I was sitting in my own office cubicle, at my own desk, minding my own business, looking through an old well file trying to reconstruct the history of the wellbore, when I turned a page and saw my own name. It was on an AFE to repair a casing leak that I wrote in April 1988, 23 years and 8 employers ago. Fortunately it was for a necessary repair that turned out to be successful, and not some farfetched recommendation I made in my youth that sounds embarrassing to my wizened ears in 2011. That event may still yet come.

I was reminded of a line from the movie, Big Fish, “Fate has a way of circling back on a man; things look different than they did at a younger time of life.”

I’m used to seeing my own work from long ago, but it’s usually on my own shelves in my own home. For example, I have hand-written running logs dating as far back as 1978, and hand-written journals from 1983. But this AFE was different. It was in someone else’s file, a file that had been passed along from one operator to the next to the next, saved for all time, and for countless engineers to read and pass judgment. Or, I can only hope, to read and learn something.

I sent a photo of the AFE with my name to Mark and he wrote back, “That’s great stuff right there. It’s so cool that you not only got a good gig with a good company, but also a reminder of the footprints we leave.” Well said, by a good a friend.

The truth is, I think often about leaving footprints. About legacy. About lasting impact. Not that I care to be famous (I love my privacy too much), or even remembered (although I hope people will read and remember my books), but because I hope to leave a wake behind me of changed lives, to pass on what I learned from faithful Believers who invested their life and energy into me. It is one of the permanent voices howling in the back of my head, “Will this matter over the long haul?”

There is a Bible verse I learned in college, and it still calls out my name: “The things which you have heard from me in the presence of many witnesses, entrust these to faithful men who will be able to teach others also.” (2 Timothy 2:2)

I am well aware of the wisdom that has been entrusted to me by godly men and women through the years. It makes me want to sit up straight and show respect. It makes me want to give it all away, entrust it to others.

I tweeted: “Enjoying my reengagement with engineering; but it reminds me that I want to leave behind more than old reports in old files.”

Every time I read one of the Apostle Paul’s letters in the New Testament I wonder if Paul had any sense that we would be reading his writing so many generations later. I doubt he imagined anything happening 2,000 years after his death, but still, his writing rings with a timelessness of someone aware of his lasting impact. Yet, he clearly wrote to address immediate concerns in a way that made sense to his contemporary readers. Paul invested in them; and he invested in us.

Well, just today I started digging into another oil and gas lease that I first touched in 1983. I’m a little nervous to look too closely in the files, but also excited to see if any of my old recommendations were ever completed. However, no matter what those files contain, it is the large circle of people God has allowed around me that reminds me what really matters. Not old dried-up AFEs, but each other. The footprints I hope to leave are the ones right beside yours.

“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 102011: Life of faith

One of my favorite T-shirts says, “The best things in life are dangerous.”  It was given to me by good friend, Ryan, who left it on my doorstep and ran away. Maybe he thought I was dangerous? Or maybe I wasn’t home that day.

When my 8-year-old nephew, Kevin, saw me wearing the shirt, he said, “Yeah, the best things are video games.”

“Video games aren’t dangerous. You just sit on the couch and push buttons.”

“They’re dangerous to me.”

Maybe I should take him rock climbing again, something with real danger.

So I was thinking about that conversation (and T-shirt) Wednesday morning when I received this text from one of my guys: “Lost the baby.” He and his wife had been waiting so long to get pregnant again, and there were so many ups and downs, and false starts, and we were hoping this time would work.

Tears dripped on my phone as I read the text. I wiped them away quickly before I experienced the corporate protocol for handling a crying cubicle-mate.

I wrote back, “I’m so sorry. There’s nothing fair to it at all, and hard to understand.”

“No, not fair, but I remember: “He’s not a tame lion, but He’s good.” Life is and will be wild, but the Father is able to do great things in the midst of painful life.”

“It’s hard to imagine the lesson or strength to be learned while you’re in the middle of it all. Maybe the only thing to know is ‘Follow Me’.”

“Follow Me is enough. He knows the way. We don’t. We don’t have to find answers or solve anything. We don’t even need to know the path or destination, just trust the one ahead on the trial and follow. It’s a lesson that I am always learning and doubt I’ll ever fully master. At least not on this side.”

My friend is not only brave in the face of emotional danger; he is a wise and battle-tested man. His comment reminded me of E. Stanley Jones, writing in his mid-eighties, who said, “There are scars on my faith, but underneath those scars there are no doubts.”

The previous night, Tuesday, another friend got the dreaded visit to his front door by a police officer, who told him his college-aged son was in a serious traffic accident only moments after leaving home to return to school. Later that evening, when I went to the hospital to stand with them, they were already surrounded by members of their Sunday School class and other friends. Everyone was nervous about the accident and the young man’s injuries, but braver during this dangerous episode because they had each other.

So Wednesday morning, back in my cubicle, I sat at my desk trying to type a text into my phone, hard to see through wet eyes, wondering: Is this what a life of faith looks like? Is it always going to be bad news? Am I OK with that?

Yes; not always; and yes.

What I have to remind myself is that people go through pain and heartbreak every day, but many of those people have only their own wits to depend on for solutions and healing. Gordon MacDonald wrote: “… we feel the seismic vibrations, the crushing events that are, if we are not careful, life threatening, career ending, health breaking, marriage and family dividing, spirit destroying.” (Mid-Course Correction) A life of faith means we have the God of the Universe to help us, and it means we can know the hope of a bigger story being told, even though we cannot understand it at the time. Again, from MacDonald: “A defining moment or choice identifies people of character, but when you get close, you usually discover that the extraordinary thing they’ve done is merely a reflection of the way they live the rest of their lives, whether you’re around to see it or not.” That is certainly true for both families from both stories.

A life of faith means we don’t have to walk the dangerous trails alone. We can lean on each other during the rough parts. It is only because of our faith in God that we can find a way forward when the news is good or when the news is bad. And because of that faith, we can move through the best and dangerous parts of the journey, living the epic story in which God has placed us.

P.S. So during the same two days, another young couple in our adult Bible study class gave birth to their first child. The life of faith isn’t only about surviving pain, there is also hope and joy. And epic stories yet to be told.

“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 101411: Browsing

OK, I’ll confess, I’m a browser. I’ve been a browser for a long time, long before the term became a software category.

My browsing goes back to when I was in elementary school and our family would drive to my grandparents’ house several hours away. In the days before personal music devices or in-car DVD players, back when kids in the backseat had to entertain themselves, I used to grab one of the encyclopedias off the shelf to read on the trip. Believe me, I understand how nerdy that sounds, over-the-top nerdy, but if you know me at all you shouldn’t be surprised. When I told Cyndi about the encyclopedia thing she just rolled her eyes and thought I was joking until my mom confirmed the story. I was lucky I didn’t tell her about it when we were just dating before she’d committed to me.

The reason I loved encyclopedias was because you saw dozens of interesting pieces while looking up whatever it was that you started looking for. For example, if I was interested in reading about the Apollo space program, which I often was, and who wouldn’t have been, I had to flick past a lot of pages on my way to “Apollo,” and every one of those pages had an article I wanted to know about as soon as I saw it. And since it took a long time to drive from Kermit to San Antonio in a Volkswagen Squareback, I was in no hurry. I learned a lot.

As it turns out, I enjoy two divergent systems of learning. I like to take on a subject and read a dozen books to gain some form of edge-to-edge domain knowledge about the topic. It’s impossible to know if the book you read is a good one, or an accurate one, until you read several. I’m bugged by one-book experts … you know, the guys who read one book or one magazine article and suddenly they are handing out advice. I don’t want to be that guy.

But more often I learn from browsing -picking up bits and pieces of cool information from a wide variety of topics. In that case, I’m not trying to learn the subject in-depth, but exploring for links to other things, and experimenting with underlying meaning, and all of that.

I have a favorite study carrel in the Midland County Library (I won’t tell you where it is because you’ll get there before I do and I’ll have to find another), and one of the reasons I like it, besides seclusion, is that the path takes me past books about mountains, and books about aviation, and books about space travel. Who could possible walk past a buffet like that without pulling a book or two off the shelf to flip through while their laptop is booting up? Not me. I cannot keep from glancing at the titles as I walk past. Someday I’ll have browsed all the books on my path to the carrel and I’ll have to move further in to see what the next aisle has to offer. I can’t wait.

One of my favorite Bible stories is from the Old Testament, II Kings 22, and while it isn’t exactly about browsing, it is about what can happen when you stumble upon something important. The story tells about a time when King Josiah commissioned the cleaning and repair of the temple, not a lot different from what I do about every six months in my garage - rebuild, restack, throw away - except that I clean for the sake of convenience and Josiah was hoping to reconnect with God. In the process of cleaning the temple treasury, a man named Hilkiah found something that had been lost. “I have found the Book of the Law in the temple of the Lord,” he said.

His discovery changed the trajectory of Josiah and nation of Judah. Apparently the Book of the Law had been lost for a long time, and they had been trying to follow God from memory and momentum. The very fact something so significant was lost shows how far the nation had drifted from God.

But the discovery of the Book brought about a national spiritual revival. New information changed their world, and changed it toward God.  It’s one of the changes I hope for in my own life whenever I read through the Bible. I want to be surprised by the stories I might never know if I read only my favorite parts. I need to read new stuff, uncomfortable stuff, opposing ideas, to give God a clear shot at my heart, soul, and mind. I want God to speak truth into my heart and not just to the familiar and safe places.

So, my challenge to you is this: Won’t you join me as a browser? Pick up something new and take a look. Take your time. And let me know what you learn.

Here is a place to start, the best browsing website: www.howstuffworks.com

“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 100611: XFD 1048576

One day this week, Tuesday, actually, I was working on a wellbore diagram in Excel when I hit “End {right}” and found myself in column XFD. I’ve done that many times before, but for some reason it was a bit spooky this time. Looking at my computer screen past that last column … was nothingness, just gray. 

Being a 21^st-Century guy, I tweeted about my experience immediately. I wrote, “Whenever I cursor to the last column in an Excel spreadsheet, XFD, it feels like I am peering past the edge of the known universe. Scary.”

Clark asked, “Why did Excel stop at XFD and 1048576? Was it some sort of magic formula?”

“Maybe we should ask Cory (the high school physics teacher) if those are actually important coordinates. Where space begins to curve back on itself, for example.” And the conversation was launched …

“Beyond XFD, there be dragons.”

Cory wrote, “I don’t think it would be curved as much as it would be folded into multilayered quadrants representing opposing values.”

“I thought that the values actually represented the inner dimensions of Mary Poppins’ bag …”

“If you look closely, you’ll see Reepicheep over there.”

“So with the current number of cells at the given dimension we have only ¼ of one two-dimensional coordinate system in an infinite number of radians about a cylindrical axis.” (I think he made that up.)

“How many columns are there? I’m not very good at base-26 math?”

“I calculated the number of columns and came up with the 16,384. So there are 1.71799e10 cells in total.”

“On the flip side, wouldn’t XFD 1048576 be a really cool name for a nerd rock band?”

“Maybe it would be a good custom license plate for the guitar player for U2.”

“I should feel safe going to the edge. All it takes is “CTRL HOME” and you are back to cell A1.”

OK, that’s enough of that. But for some reason, the notion of peering over the edge stayed in my mind for three days. I kept thinking about how scary it can be to peek over the edge. I kept thinking about how energizing it can be to peek over the edge.

I thought about one of the coolest destinations in the Guadalupe Mountains: Bush Mountain. It’s round and flat on top, so hard to know where the actual summit is, but you can sit on the cliff edge and hang your legs over the Western Escarpment and consider the meaning of infinity. While it’s not a knife-edged cliff, it is a 3,000’ drop, and severe enough to take your breath away.

I also thought about the two times God took Moses up on a mountaintop to give him a peak over the edge. The first time was when God gave Moses the Ten Commandments and the Law, allowing him to see what a life of obedience and faith would look like going forward. The second time was at the end of Moses’ life when God took him up to the top of a mountain to show him the Promised Land. God allowed Moses to see over the edge into the future, to know that he was released from his duties, that he could finally relax and come on home.

I remembered another Bible story, when God told Abram to go exploring, to go out to the edges, and see how big His blessing really was. God said, “Lift up your eyes from where you are and look north and south, east and west. All the land that you see I will give to you … Go, walk through the length and breadth of the land, for I am giving it to you.” (Genesis 13)

Some years ago, when we were reading the Prayer of Jabez, Cyndi told me, “You can’t know how big your boundaries are until you walk all the way to the edges. You can’t know the limits of God’s blessings until you push out to the fence lines.”

She said, “I wonder how often we settle for a small portion of what God has for us, thinking we have it all, because we stopped exploring too soon. We don’t know where the boundary is until we walk up to the fence. Don’t stop too soon.”

Well, I don’t know what else to say about this. I’m pretty sure God didn’t intentionally hide any messages in Excel, except that He is everywhere, and in everything, and always calling out to us to come join Him. I pray that you will hear God calling you out to the edges, all the way to the fence lines, to give you a bigger glimpse of what life with Him can be.

But you’ve got to be brave. And don’t stop too soon.

“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 093011: A change of heart

It wasn’t the first time I prayed this prayer - the one asking God to change my heart. The first time of record would be in Spring 1980. But the resulting change from this particular round of praying was one of the most dramatic. I went back to work for someone else and I am happy about it. Who expected that?

I have been self-employed since 2004, and while I loved the freedom, the structure, the self-dependence, the adventure, and I certainly wasn’t looking forward to giving that up, I realized I had pretty much exhausted the opportunities available to my particular skillset. I knew a year ago I should make a change and consider re-entering the workforce. In fact, I promised Cyndi back in February that I would find something this calendar year.

One reason I was willing was because I wanted to improve our cash flow and to make Cyndi’s impending retirement less scary for her. She says most women worry about finances as often as most men think about sex. Well, that can be a lot. I was willing to go back to work so Cyndi wouldn’t be as nervous.

I also wanted to be able to help my parents financially as we go through their life transition of moving from completely independent living in Hobbs, NM, to a more assisted arrangement here in Midland. They certainly invested a lot in me through the years, and I look forward to returning the favor.

I suppose I also sensed it was time for a fundamental change in my daily life, as in adding more structure and discipline and all that, but I never would’ve said that out loud to anyone.

I knew that going back to work was the right thing to do, the grown-up thing to do, but I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t feel good about it at all. I didn’t want to spend my days sitting in someone else’s office at someone else’s desk on someone else’s schedule pouring over someone’s else’s projects following someone else’s procedures, all at the expense of my own heart. It sounded awful every time I considered it, and I was afraid if I did it I would end up a bitter and resentful old man. For the last ten years my heart has leaned into writing and teaching and I was afraid that going back to work for someone else would squash my efforts. How could I continue to teach other men about calling and purpose if I didn’t follow my own?

So my prayer all last spring and summer was, “God, this appears to be the right thing to do but it churns my stomach just thinking about it. I’m asking You to change my heart.”

And then this summer an unpredicted opportunity came up out of a conversation I wasn’t even part of, between my friend Brent and a new resident in our neighborhood, Ken, who happens to be an engineering manager with Apache Corporation, a large independent oil and gas producer. The next thing I knew I was mailing a resume and interviewing for a consulting engineering position. More surprisingly, I was happy about it. I considered it a fun opportunity to learn new things and meet new people and enlarge my circle. I was a changed man.

I started working in Apache’s office in Midland three weeks ago, on Monday, September 12^th.

One day last week, over a Texas Burger, Mark asked if I had figured out how to squeeze in time to write, and I said, “I’m not sure, yet. I decided if God had brought this job opportunity I had to relax and expect Him to help me work out the rest of my schedule.”

Apparently I haven’t always lived that way, so loose with my plans and all, because Mark grinned at me and said, “Is this my friend Berry Simpson I’m talking to?”

In fact, I’ve enjoyed my brief three weeks at Apache. I like the people I’m working with and the work environment in their office, and I’m looking forward to an extended stay.

But I’m a different man than I was only six months ago. My heart has changed. It has God’s fingerprints all over it where He gently molded it into this new shape, so subtly I never noticed it happening on the fly.

It’s somewhat risky writing about answered prayer, though. What if this doesn’t work out? What if circumstances change? What if Apache decides having an old silverback engineer lurking around their well files is no longer in their best interests? What if I claim this as answered prayer only to see it disintegrate? I don’t want to embarrass God by having to issue a retraction.

However, it isn’t really this particular job that I’m most excited about, it’s the change in my own heart - subtle on the outside, huge on the inside, and more than obvious to me. Like I said in the opening, this isn’t the first time I’ve prayed for this, and it isn’t the first time God has changed my heart.

I hope you’ll pray this prayer the next time you have to do something you don’t want to do, or when you have a looming confrontation on your horizon. Maybe that’s one of the keys to being content in all things, allowing God to change your heart.

“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 092211: Who are you?

Clark’s question was, “When did you first identify yourself as a writer?” I was a guest in his freshman composition class to talk about the practice of writing, techniques, editing, and all that. It was fun and I enjoy talking about it - mainly because talking about it demands I think about it. And thinking about it makes me better.

The question was harder to answer than it first appeared. The difference between saying “I like to write” and “I am a writer” is huge, and it reaches down to the very core of identity and perception and who I hope to be.

The first time I considered myself a writer was standing in B. Dalton Booksellers at the Midland Park Mall and choosing Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg. It seemed like a big step forward to spend money on a specialized book like that, a commitment to practice and improve. That was 1993. It took another 20 years before I was brave enough to say out loud to strangers: I am a writer.

How do you introduce yourself? Once you get past family and career? What is your identity? Do you say “I am a writer” or “I am a gardener” or “I am a quantum theorist” with ease?

I remember when I used to hand people notes so they could introduce me before I gave a speech, back in my government days; it was a long time before I would change my notes from “loves to run marathons” to saying “I am a marathon runner.” And that was after I’d run five or six marathons. The first label was about a hobby, the second was about identity. I figured a listener couldn’t judge me because I loved to run marathons, except to think I was crazy; but if I claimed to be a marathoner, well any listener could look me up and down and ask about my finish times and say, “No you aren’t.”

This conversation surfaced again when Cory noticed that I had not updated my Twitter profile to include “Cyclist.” Well, I made the change as soon he reminded me; I had meant to add it but forgot to get around to it.

Cory tweeted, “What is the criteria to claim it? Do we have to go through hazing, pledging, or rites of passage?” I mentioned something Dr. George Sheehan once wrote - that the difference between a jogger and a runner is an entry form. In other words, if you sign up for a race and commit to it, and run the race, you are a runner regardless of how fast or slow, lean or fat, young or old. The entry form is the threshold. Of course, a race entry is just a piece of paper, but its value is the commitment to train and willingness to succeed or fail in public.

So I told Cory, we all rode the 50K Roll for the Cure in Hobbs, NM, so we are cyclists.

Cory wrote, “This may be the first time I have claimed anything athletic to describe myself publicly.” I should add that Cory rides very well and has left the rest of us behind more than a few times. He’s earned the title: cyclist.

Maybe our hesitancy to identify with a particular label is because we think we aren’t good enough yet. Or that it isn’t the sort of thing you can claim about yourself. As in, you can’t claim yourself to be humble, or strong of character. Someone else has to hang that on you.

Or maybe we need to have evidence of identity beyond a personal claim. If I say I am a marathon runner, well I have nine finisher medals to back it up. Cyclist, a race number. Backpacker, I have the wear-and-tear of a dozen trips into the Guadalupe Mountains on my backpack. Teacher, I have 20 years of notes. Engineer, I have a university degree.

But writing? That took a while to accumulate. Now I have a dozen notebooks filled with my own thoughts, Journal Entries published weekly since 1998, two books, readers across the USA and around the world. And I recently learned about a running group in Memphis who are training together and using my book, Running With God, for their pre-run devotionals. I should be satisfied with all that.

And actually, it doesn’t take all that. You are a writer if you write. Too many people wish they had written already, or plan to start someday when they have time. You are a marathon runner because you’ve run one. Lots of people wish they had a marathon finish on their resume, but haven’t gotten around to running one yet. We are, because we do. What we do, is identity.

Are there things you do regularly but are hesitant to claim as an identity? What are they? Maybe it’s time to embrace what you do - step further up and further in to who you are.

“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 091511: 30-Day Challenge

September is a great time to start something new. The energy from the beginning of the school year is contagious even if you haven’t been in school in decades. And the change in weather stirs up hope. Last week I ran twice in the 70s, after months of 100+, and it made me happy. This week the temperature climbed back up to 100, but even that was more hopeful than 100 in July

I’ve already made one big September change in my life; I reentered the workforce as a contract engineer for a large independent oil and gas producer, the first time I’ve worked regularly for someone else since 2004. I’m even wearing Dockers every day instead of my favorite jeans, and tucking my shirt in.

And if that isn’t enough, I’m considering more changes since listening to a TED Talk by Matt Cutts, search engine optimization guru for Google. He encouraged his listeners to try something new for 30 days: “Try something you’ve always wanted to add to your life but were afraid of the long-term commitment.”

He gave himself a different 30-day challenge, back-to-back, for one entire year, and blogged about his experiences. One of his challenges was “30 days of being thankful.” What a great idea! He also decided to: learn 30 new words; write a 50,000-word novel (he finished it, but says it’s awful); take a photo every day; and meditate every day.

After all that work he learned a lot about how to make this project more likely to succeed. For example, don’t make your challenge too exotic or difficult. Simply try something you’ve always wanted to try but didn’t have the time or courage to sustain it over the long haul but might be able to push through 30 days. Consider this to be a series of 30-day experiments, and start with an easy one. Some will work, some will stick, and some won’t.

Cutts says, “It’s easier to add a new habit than to remove a habit, so don’t begin with a challenge to stop doing something. And remember, “small sustainable changes are best.”

Well, as you might imagine, I could not listen to a talk about 30-day challenges without deciding to give it a try. At first I thought it might be a good idea to ask other people what I should do … maybe even ask Cyndi. But most of us won’t stick to something new for 30 days because someone else wants us to or because someone else thinks we need it. I certainly won’t. I think a good 30-day challenge has to come from yourself.

However, it’s still a good idea to ask for suggestions, if for no other reason than to move your thinking outside your box.

It’s a good idea to tell people what you are doing, for encouragement, and for accountability. But only tell people who will help and encourage you, not people who will make fun of you.

Here are some more suggestions from Matt Cutt’s blog, with a couple of additions of my own:

Be thankful about something every day

Ride your bicycle to work every day

Run 5 miles every day

Read the Bible through in 30 days

Pray every day

No sugar for 30 days

Learn one new word every day

Take a photo every day

Eat vegan for 30 days

Eat on <$10.00 per day for 30 days

No TV or radio
No eating after 8:00 PM

No computer after 8:00 PM (or 10:00 PM?)

No soft drinks

Get up at 5:00 AM every day

Do 100 sit-ups every day

Do 100 push-ups every day

Cycle 10 miles or more every day

Write 1,000 words in your journal every day

Write a note to someone you love every day

Write a letter to friends or family every day

Fast for 30 days

Write a thank you note every day

Complete one home project every day

Draw a sketch every day

Don’t complain for 30 days

Write in a blog every day

I intend to pick something from this list and get started. Maybe you have some additional suggestions. Even better, maybe you will commit to joining me in doing a challenge or two. It will be fun to share our stories. And 30 days might lead to a lifetime. Who knows what sort of people we might become.

“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