Journal entry 121511: Trusting on the run

Sunday, December 4^th, was an exciting day for me. And I learned something; again. It actually began about midnight Saturday when I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep worrying about how I’d make my flight home Sunday afternoon. I was at Young Life’s Trail West Family Camp in Buena Vista, Colorado, attending the Exploration (Calling Intensive) men’s retreat, and my last opportunity to get home to Midland from Denver was the 4:00 flight to Albuquerque. Otherwise I’d have to spend the night and wait until Monday.

I knew Sunday would be busy. But even more, I knew it would be important. My part in the retreat was to facilitate a group of men as we shared our life stories, dreams, desires, and goals. Sunday afternoon was the climactic session when we would give each other feedback on all we’d learned over the course of the retreat. It promised to be a deep moment, the time when God speaks into a man’s heart through the voices of other men. I knew I would rather miss my flight than shortchange that moment with the guys.

However, I also knew Cyndi was at home on Kevin-duty all by herself all weekend, which included, in addition to her busy schedule, taking 50 elementary school kids to run a 5K (she’d been training them for weeks); and then later, taking many of the same kids to the Midland Community Theater to see the Sound of Music on stage. On Sunday, she had a long church orchestra rehearsal and performance (she is the percussionist). I wanted to get home to stand beside her so she wouldn’t have to keep standing alone. And, to be honest, I wanted to get home to lie beside her because I was tired of sleeping alone. And on top of all that, I was full of new ideas and new stories and I couldn’t wait to tell them to Cyndi.

So I tossed and turned in my bed at Trail West for over an hour, worrying about the situation, until I remembered prayer. Who knew I could pray for peace and for solutions, even in the middle of the night?

So I began to pray: “Lord I need Your peace, and I need Your insight to know how to do tomorrow, and I need Your help getting back to sleep so I can be effective on Sunday.” I settled almost immediately. I didn’t have any new ideas or revelations, but a calm peace that if I missed my flight Sunday night I would simply spend another night in Denver and use the solitude to rehash and record and confirm all I’d been learning at the retreat. There was value in that. And if I miraculously made my flight, well, all the better.

Sunday morning I mentioned my dilemma to my guys and they stepped up to help. We completed our feedback sessions, working straight through the breaks, not rushing the moment or shortchanging any discussions … but no lollygagging, either. We took some time for brunch, then finished up so that I was able to leave at noon. They are great guys and I am blessed to know them. All four of us left the camp with affirmations of God’s call on our life, as well as challenges for moving forward into the next adventures. I drove away knowing it had been a successful weekend.

But, I drove quickly. While I was at peace in my heart either way, whether I’d make the flight or miss the flight, I wanted to get home. I prayed: “God, help me make this happen.” And I hurried as much possible. I wanted to do my bit and give God a decent chance to get me on the plane. I considered praying for a flight delay to give more cushion, but I decided that was a selfish prayer since everyone else on the plane had somewhere important to go. (I still don’t know what to think about prayers like that; is it OK to pray that someone else will be delayed so I can make a connection?)

I drove up Highway 285 toward Denver slightly over the speed limit, yet slow enough for this Texas boy to feel safe in the snowy mountains. I passed car after car with freshly-cut Christmas trees strapped to the top. And I listened to Rob Bell preach about peace on my iPod. It was a beautiful and glorious drive.

I drove straight without stopping until I got to the airport gas station, where I topped out my rental Jeep. I turned it in at 3:10 PM. There was no time to spare. I rode the shuttle bus (which drove way too slow and took way too many stops), raced up to the Southwest counter and checked my bag and printed my boarding pass at 3:30 PM.

I pushed through airport security, taking the shortest line I saw, which was shortest because it led to the full-body scan machine. I was in a hurry, had nothing to hide, so scan away. Curiously the scan hit on a suspicious blotch on my back, so the TSA gentleman asked if he could pat down my back. Sure. He was sorry. The machine had tagged a big wet sweaty spot between my shoulder blades, the result of running through the airport with my coat on.

I trotted up to the train that links the main terminal with the flight gates, and of course it took forever to arrive, but I was surprisingly calm. (I realize that from the outside I always appear to be calm, but trust me, on the inside of my skin, where I live, I’m often wound up tight, continually analyzing the situation. Not this time. My midnight prayers were still working.)

I rode the train and hit Concourse C at a fast trot. Of course the people-mover sidewalk was out of order, but I ran down it anyway because who knew that God wouldn’t suddenly start it back up. As my gate came into view I heard over the public address system, “Paging Southwest passenger Berry Simpson, this is your last call.” Good thing I had been attending A CALLING RETREAT; I was ready for my last call! I did a face-first slide into the gate while holding my boarding pass aloft and made it just in time. My baseball-playing son-in-law would have been proud.

And the next thing I knew, I was in my seat texting Cyndi: “I made my plane.”

I was glad I made it, but even happier at the lesson of the day – there is no use fretting over what I cannot change.

In this busy holiday season we always have too much to do, and are often delayed or stopped, missing important connections. But if the peace of God is real, we have to learn to settle in to it and trust Him to get us to the most important things. And trust what happens next.

Of course, being in God’s peace does not mean we should saunter down the jet way. Running is still allowed.

“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 120111: Prospect Park

I remember one day in 1999 when I was driving back to Midland from a drilling rig visit, I stopped in Brownfield and changed clothes in a fast food restaurant parking lot (in the privacy of my car, that is) to run down Highway 137, one of my first “adult” routes from back in 1980. It was while running down this road that the immense responsibility of being a brand new father washed over me all at once, and I made a commitment to step into the role. I returned 19 years later because I wanted to smell the dirt and remember the texture of a road that played an important part in my new life as a husband and father.

I’ve repeated this drill many times: detour from my travel route, change clothes in the car, go for a run, change back, rejoin the journey. Not because running is so important I can’t wait another minute before heading out, but more likely because I want to experience again some familiar trail. I often go to a lot of trouble to recreate an experience.

Once back in the 1980s (March 21, 1987, actually), while Cyndi was taking a test for fitness instructor national certification in Denver, I kept myself busy by running a couple of loops through Washington Park. It was a great run, and an even better memory renewal. Washington Park was the first place I saw how a well-designed park could add energy and life to a community. It was a big reason I joined the Parks and Recreation Commission a few years later, which that led to a 12-years stint on the Midland City Council. Washington Park had a big impact on me.

My most current adventure also took place in Denver, and it was just last week. I was in Colorado to attend the Exploration Men’s Retreat and my flight arrived very early so I had lots of time to fill before reporting in at the Trail West Camp in Buena Vista. I drove I-70 to Kipling and took the exit to find my way to Prospect Park. I was actually in Wheat Ridge, but it still looked like Denver to me. It was 28* and snowing heavily. I drove through deep snow into the parking lot and found a suitable space to camp near an outdoor pavilion and, more importantly, public restrooms. I crawled into the back seat of the Jeep where I could reach my suitcase and dug out my cold-weather running gear and changed clothes.

I ran on the concrete trail for about an hour. I almost always prefer to run on dirt, but with all the snow it was nice to know exactly where the path was and to know I wouldn’t fall into any mud holes. I quickly realized I had packed the wrong gloves. My hands got painfully cold, so an hour was plenty long to be out.

When I got back to the Jeep, I took advantage of the restroom, paused to catch my breath, then changed back into grown-up street clothes. I was hoping to find a place to eat lunch along I-70 before leaving the Denver area so I could set up in a booth and do some writing and reading. I had almost 6 hours before I had to be in Buena Vista and I wanted to burn some of it off over lunch. But once I got back on I-70 I was out of luck. Apparently I’d already passed any lunch possibility, and in fact, there wasn’t really any place to stop all the way down Highway 285. I finally wrote this Journal while eating a hamburger at Punky’s Diner in Buena Vista.

My usual purpose for squeezing a run into a busy travel day is to reinforce an old memory. Memory is so fragile, and it changes over time in ways we aren’t aware, so I like to retrace old routes to reestablish the details. And, I’ll go ahead and admit, I also do it to find a new story. New stories are basic currency for a writer and I can’t get enough of them.

However, this time was different. I’d never been to Prospect Park before so I had no personal memories to reinforce. I went there because this park is an important part of a friend’s story and I wanted to know more about it. Mark used to walk in this park daily, and it was on these trails that God found him, reconnected with him, rescued his heart, and emboldened him for his next adventure. It was a mid-course correction for Mark, and he always mentions it when describing God’s work in his life. Mark wrote to me, “God will speak plainly to you there if you ask.”

If fact, I didn’t expect any grand revelations from God in the same way Mark received. I don’t know how to reproduce my own encounters with God when returning to old sacred ground, so I certainly didn’t expect it to happen on someone else’s. And besides, God never lived in Prospect Park, He lived inside of Mark. God simply used the park to get Mark’s attention and open his eyes and ears.

So I didn’t have any big expectations; I was more interested in staying warm.

But still, it wasn’t just a routine run in a park. I knew there was deep magic here. I came to this park so I could understand my friend’s story better, understand him better, and we’d have one more thing in common. And I don’t know how to experience a park sitting in my car with the windows rolled up. I have to put my feet on the ground if I want to incorporate a place into my own story.

Mark has been instrumental in my life as a teacher, in my return to cycling, in helping heal ancient wounds, and in my daily walk with God. I loved running in his park and feeling the spirit in the air. I hope to do it again soon, maybe on a warmer day.

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

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

Journal entry 113011: Making the list

The first question of the morning was this: Who has influenced you? Who has made an impact on how you live today?

For me, one of my answers was a former pastor, Jim Denison. He taught me the value of being a life-long student, to never stop learning and growing. I once asked him for a reading list and he gave me two: ten books about theology, and ten books about church history. They weren’t simple books, either, but from somewhere deep inside his graduate school catalogue. For me it was a big deal that he took my request seriously and expected I would be able to understand deep reading. I diligently hunted them down and read all twenty. I wanted to be like Jim.

Another influence is a man I’ve met briefly but can’t claim to know, Erwin McManus. I listen to his podcasted sermons frequently, and I’ve read all of his books. He has a way of explaining complex issues that is theologically accurate and intellectually honest while remaining non-threatening. He speaks the truth without picking fights. His sermons have inspired me to live my life in the bigger story. He has encouraged me to open my eyes wide to the possibilities of a deep personal life with Jesus, and to open my arms wide to gather in everyone God has brought my way. I want to be like Erwin.

We were talking about our influences as part of a wrap-up of our three-month study of Romans, looking at the long list of names contained in chapter 16. Paul, the author of Romans, spent line after line after line listing the friends who had served with him and influenced him. For someone who had never been to Rome, he loved a lot of people there.

Many were people he had spent a lot of time with, like Phoebe (a woman who was most likely a deacon in the church), and Priscilla and Aquila, soldiers of the faith who left a large wake behind them in at least three cities (Corinth, Ephesus, and Rome). They also seemed destined to marry each other, having rhyming names and all.

Paul also mentioned Andronicus and Junias (probably a husband and wife team), who had spent time in prison with Paul, a hint that Paul was in jail more times than the New Testament describes.

The list goes on and on, listing dozens of people who were important to Paul. This list feels personal. I can picture Paul dictating the first 15 chapters of Romans to Tertius while pacing the floor and waving his arms and pumping his fist as he made those critical points about living life with Jesus. But chapter 16 feels softer, as if Paul sat down and leaned back in his chair and started ruminating over good memories of solid friends who had influenced his life.

And the coolest thing is, they’ve all influenced our lives as well. Their influence on Paul came through his writings which we continue to study. You don’t have to be a capital “A” Apostle to leave a lasting impact.

The last question of the morning, the most valuable question, was this: How do we end up on someone else’s list? How do we ourselves become people of influence?

One way is to make sure we are always growing and changing. People who camp out on past success are seldom long-term influences. To be an influence of significance we have to grow stronger in God every day, and pursue His wisdom and insight with open eyes and open arms.

Another criterion for a person of influence is to let people in close. For Paul, that meant preaching in the synagogue or suffering in prison together. For us it might mean spending miles on the trail or repairing a house together, living close enough to know each other’s stories. It isn’t enough to share information – even if it is very good – people of influence have to be generous with their own lives as well. (1 Thes. 2:8)

PS: Who has influenced you? I’d love to know your story.

“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 112411: Long time together

Thursday morning, fellow Midlander Kelly Cooke saw Cyndi in the finish area of the Ft. Worth Turkey Trot, mingling with 10,000-or-so other runners, and asked, “Where’s Berry.” He knew we had both run the race.

“He’s over there in front of the band. He loves it when old guys can still play.”

She was correct. I love it when the old guys still play, and I there I was standing about twenty feet in front of the speakers listening to three old guys, over-sixty-years-old (maybe younger - hard to take into account the effect  of a rock-and-roll life), playing Voodoo Baby. I wish I had caught the name of the band, but it usually takes my brain a bit to start remembering new data after running a race. Even if only a 5K.

But it wasn’t just the fact that they were older than me and could still play that got me excited. It was watching how seamlessly they did it. It was pure economy of movement; no wasted motions. As I stood and listened to them play a long blues break I noticed the guitar player dash his eyes toward the bass player, then the bass player nodded ever-so-slightly - just tipping the brim of his hat toward the drummer. The drummer smiled and they all changed tempo, just like that. It was phenomenal to see how much they communicated even while barely communicating.

So Cyndi and walked over to the side of the parking lot to eat our complimentary post-race yogurt, and I heard them start up Stevie Ray Vaughn’s Pride & Joy. Again, amazing. I would have camped out in front of them even longer if we didn’t have a full day ahead of us.

Cyndi and I stood talking a bit until she went back to bag another yogurt. When she came back she said, “I knew you’d be standing over here smiling.”

“Why did you know that?”

“Because the band is playing Bo Diddley. I knew it would make you happy.” Again, what a woman. She knows me very well.

She even listened patiently while I ran through all my observations about economy of motion and subtle communication.

Then I said, “You know, some long-term marriages are just the same way. A nod of the head here, and casual smile there, and volumes of data are communicated.”

I added, “Of course, not all marriages end up like that; just the ones where they spend years leaning in toward one another. The kind of marriage I want to have with you.”

So we got in our car and drove back to Katie & Drew’s house in Mansfield where we would clean up and then tackle the Thanksgiving Day events.

Later, when I was in the shower, I realized the way the band communicated is also how I want my relationship with God to be. When He just tips his head, I want to know what to do and spring into action. When he whispers in my ear, I was to be ready to change tempo.

Well, the reason the band was so good at communicating wasn’t because they were old, but because they had grown old together playing together. It takes more than years, it takes shared mileage on the trial … whether the trail of rock-and-roll, or the trail of marriage, or the trail following God. That close relationship is the reward for a long time together of leaning in.

“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 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