Journal entry 022312: Running again

So I’m writing this while sitting in Whataburger on Greenville in Dallas, rehydrating with Diet Coke, and getting a bit of work done before retrieving Cyndi from her workshop. I just got back from running around White Rock Lake. I can barely walk; probably because it has been six months since I’ve run nine miles nonstop.

My knees sang to me all the way around the lake, but I’ve heard that tune before and knew I could push it to the back of my mental playlist. The song was loudest during the first fifteen minutes, and surprisingly in the last fifteen minutes, which corresponded coincidently with the point when I could finally see my red pickup in the parking lot waiting for my return.

Too tired to change back into street clothes when I finished running, I put a towel on the driver’s seat to absorb the sweat while I drove back to the North Central Expressway. I found a semi-secluded parking space in the lot outside of Dick’s Sporting Goods on Park Lane. I didn’t actually care to be around civilized people yet, but this visit was the next item on my daily checklist so I had to go.

I was nervous the shopping center security guards would give me the big shakedown before I finished changing clothes. They were trolling back and forth through the parking lot in their white Ford Explorer with flashing yellow light, watching me fool around suspiciously in the front passenger seat of my pickup. Fortunately, they left me alone long enough that I got my jeans back on and finished dressing into dry clothes. (Changing clothes in the car after a run is a long-established family tradition.)

I’m afraid I looked even more suspicious as I peg-legged my way stiffly toward Dick’s, swaying side-to-side and grimacing. I scared myself a little. If I’d had a Frankenstein mask, it would have been perfect.

The trail around White Rock Lake had been uncharacteristically deserted, but of course it was Friday afternoon. This time out I saw more cyclists than runners. The lake looked good, healthy, and full of water, and it satisfied my heart and soul to make the big circle. It was worth any throbbing discomfort I felt while walking through Dick’s Sporting Goods.

While running I listened to two Phedippidations podcasts but didn’t finish either because the speaker wore me out with his rambling. I was caught up with Mosaic and Mars Hill podcast sermons, so I listened to three NPR technology podcasts and two NPR book podcasts. It was nine miles of introvert perfection.

I’ll admit, it bothers me that I don’t write about running as much as I used to. It’s partly because I don’t run as often or as far. I think I have to go at least four or five miles to earn any original thoughts, and lately most of my runs have been shorter than that.

I’m willing to write about new things, such as backpacking or cycling, but so far I enjoy writing about running more. I don’t go backpacking often enough to set a pattern, and cycling doesn’t yet speak to my heart the way running does. That could be because I have to pay more attention to what I’m doing while cycling, so I don’t get into traffic or run off the road. But it’s more likely I need more time on my bike to increase my comfort level. It took many months of running, maybe years, before my brain learned to wander.

I suppose there are no specific activities that God chooses for communication, but he speaks to each of us through the unique activities of our lives. And I suppose we all have to reach a comfort level with any activity so we are not worried exclusively about pain and suffering, but our mind can go free. Even traditional spiritual disciplines like daily Bible reading, prayer, or journaling may demand time before they speak to your heart. We have to get over the discipline hump, first.

But even as my knees have slowed my pace and reduced my frequency, there are few things I love more than running down a trail. So I can’t believe this phase is behind me, or that God has shifted his methods with me. I believe he would’ve removed the desire in my heart by now if it was time to move on.

PS: I have foot surgery scheduled for the end of March, to correct an ugly bunion and a crooked hammer toe on my right foot. This won’t fix my biggest problem, solvable only by knee replacement, but it will keep me on my feet and moving down the road a bit longer. It will also make it simpler to find shoes that fit.

QUESTION: When does God speak to you? Is there a certain activity when it happens more often?

“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 021612: Giving refuge

Imagine this possible scenario from Old Testament times, maybe about 1200 B.C.

A man had been running full-speed for almost 24 hours to reach the nearest City of Refuge. The evening before he had caused an industrial accident that killed another man, and now the victim’s brothers were chasing him to exact their revenge, something they were bound to do to protect their family honor. Our man was the husband to a young wife and father to two tiny babies and his only hope was to make it to one of the Cities of Refuge and then send for his own family to join him.

He could not believe he was still running. How could anyone have the energy to run all night and all day? The accident happened toward the end of the workday, yesterday, when it was getting too dark to work and they should have stopped but they didn’t. He was still on the job sight grieving over his lost friend when the other workers shouted that the brothers were on their way. One carried an ax, and they were determined to get revenge. “You have to go now,” the coworkers warned. “You have to run now or you’ll die too.”

“What about my wife and babies? Who’ll take care of them if I run away?”

“Who’ll take care of them if they catch you and kill you?”

All through the night and next day, the brothers chased him. Now they were closing the gap as they approached the city gates, knowing this was their last chance to fulfill their duty.

It was nearly sundown. Our man was depleted, dehydrated, and delirious when he finally reached the city. He saw the gates closing in front of him and thought how unfair to close them in his face after he’d run so far. He lunged forward through the opening and heard the gates thud closed behind him as he rolled across the dirt. He was so exhausted he couldn’t see. His eyes had shut down. Or maybe it was his brain.

He felt hands grabbing his shirt and dragging him to his feet. “No, please, don’t kill me,” he yelled as he swung his arms trying to escape. “I have my own babies. They need me. Please don’t kill me.”

Then he gave up. He couldn’t fight any more. His eyesight blurred and he couldn’t breathe. He’d run all night and most of the day without water and he was so dehydrated he couldn’t think. His tongue too swollen to speak, he thought he was saying words but they came out in gasps and grunts. Now that he’d stopped running, the lactic acid turned his legs into wood. He couldn’t have run another step even if he’d wanted to. There was no use trying. If they were going to kill him, do it now.

“Relax, son,” he heard a gentle voice say. It sounded like someone older, someone used to being in charge, someone used to taking over in hectic situations. “You’re safe now. You made it. You are inside the walls. You can stop running.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

“Be still. Just breathe. It doesn’t matter what happened. This city is your refuge. You are safe here.”

In the Bible books of Numbers, Deuteronomy, and Joshua, God laid out His plan for the Cities of Refuge. He designated six towns to which “a person who had killed someone could flee,” a safe haven offered freely even before the “crime” was committed.  God also told them to build smooth, wide, and well-marked roads to these Cities. He didn’t want them hidden or surrounded by country too rough for travel. No moats, no cliffs, and no checkpoints.

In addition, there were no screening processes or thresholds of innocence to pass before entering a City of Refuge. Instead, they were open and available to all. There would be an assessment of guilt eventually, but not right away, not until the refugee was safe. The overall purpose was to make it easy for someone to find refuge. They were not to make this onerous or difficult, but err on the side of grace. It was true prevenient grace; forgiveness offered in advance.

As I read about these Cities, I wondered: Was it good or bad to have your own town picked as a City of Refuge? Didn’t living there mean you would be surrounded by fugitives from the law? Would it, over time, become a town full of killers?

However, I always assume myself the person who doesn’t need refuge while everyone else does. In my own hypothetical scenarios, I’m never the one who needs to be saved. I always picture myself as the dispenser of grace rather than the receiver of grace. I’m a little ashamed that I see myself like that. Who do I think that I am?

The good news? Living in a City of Refuge meant you would be surrounded by grateful people who truly understood how lucky they were. Since gratefulness is so rare, a City of Refuge might have been the ideal place to live.

Grace is always risky, especially prevenient grace, offered before you need it.

“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 020912: Praying the list

I left Midland on Southwest Airlines at 6:40 AM one Thursday in December. Surprised that I wasn’t sleepy, I tried to solve the day’s Sudoku puzzle from the Midland Reporter Telegram, but it was too hard for me. (Note: I hesitated way too long writing the words, “too hard,” in my journal.)

I turned off my overhead light – mine was the only one on in the entire cabin – and leaned back in my chair hoping to sleep. It didn’t work. I still wasn’t sleepy. However, the drone of the engines was hypnotic and soothing, and I found myself in that semi-conscious state mimicking meditation. I decided to do a combination prayer and project checklist.

How am I doing with Cyndi? Am I looking out for her? Am I paying attention to her busy details? She will be retiring in a few months – am I helping her through that transition? I’m blessed to live with someone I cannot live without. How do I not take that for granted?

Compass class – are they with me? Am I teaching the right stuff? We continue to bring in new couples, a good thing, but I’m afraid I don’t keep up with all the names. How can I do that better? Keeping up with names and people is not my natural inclination – I need help.

How about Iron Men? Are we still relevant? Should this ministry morph into the next phase, whatever that may be, or continue as it has? I’m not looking for a change; learning with these men feeds my heart. Thank You for bringing this into my life.

Are Journey Partner Groups still worth the time and emotional commitment? Am I using the best exercises? Who should be in the next round? Can I start praying for them now?

How am I doing with family ministry? Cyndi and Tanya and Kevin and Drew and Katie and Madden and Byron and Mom and Dad and Carroll and Jenifer and Even? What should I be doing better? What else can I do to make Mom feel safe? How can I help Dad in the tough transition? How do I work through the giant pile in my garage in such a way to honor and love my parents?

How am I doing with fitness? Running has been poor, but I enjoy it. Am I engaged enough? I need the time on my feet that running gives, to feed creativity and imagination, and I can’t see anything else filling that same niche.

How about diet and nutrition? Dropping another twenty pounds would work wonders for my knees, but I am so bad at staying consistent. Are there underlying reasons or old agreements that work against me?

What about cycling. Thanks for bringing this back into my life after so many years, and thanks for bringing friends alongside. Am I thinking about safety as much as I think about mileage and speed? Can I learn to love cycling as much as I love running? Will this become a conduit for your voice into my heart?

Am I working my sad knees hard enough to keep them strong? I hope to stay active so that someday I’ll have no choice but to replace them. Today, I’m actually looking forward to that. Maybe I could run faster with new knees.

Pump class? Am I still getting stronger or have I plateaued? Thanks for the new strength You’ve given me already.

How about my high Blood Pressure, the one problem that could kill me with little warning? Am I taking care of this? Thank You for the unforeseen benefit from this ailment – a deepening relationship with my pharmacist.

How am I doing as a writer? My writing schedule changed when I went back to work – and I worry about getting enough writing done to keep momentum. I want to write more books, but I don’t enjoy the tedium of marketing and webpage maintenance required to sell books. Is there a way to do this better? Should I look for professional help?

Reading Jon Acuff’s book, Quitter, opened my eyes to my original dream for writing – not to be a big-time author, but to bring readers closer to Jesus. It also reminded me the benefit of having a small friendly audience of readers while learning and practicing my craft. Thank You for the irresistible urge You’ve given me, to keep writing and teaching and sharing. It’s one of the best blessings You’ve given me.

Well, I sat in the dark airline cabin going over my list, praying and analyzing and thinking, and it was soothing and peaceful. There was not the normal, squeezed feeling of having too much to do, but the calm assurance of the blessings of God. I felt a fortunate man.

I have never considered myself a strong prayer. What I mean is, even though I pray often, I forget about prayer when listing the significant disciplines that have brought me closer to God. I’m probably wrong to think like that. My most peaceful moments in life have come while in personal conversation with God. Maybe I should schedule more daybreak airline flights and hard Sudoku puzzles.

QUESTION: Have you prayed you list lately? What did you learn?

“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 020212: A letter to myself

What advice would I give myself if I could send a letter back in time?

The Noble Heart Ministry is putting together an eBook made up of the responses to this challenge, and I couldn’t let the opportunity pass without sending a response. It isn’t an easy question. Most of what I’ve learned had to be learned along the journey, when I was ready, when I was listening. I doubt I would learn the same lessons if confronted at a younger age. I told Clark, “I think what I really did was reiterate what I've said so many times while teaching young couples.”

Keep moving

From: Berry Simpson, January 2012, 55 years old, married 32 years, father and grandfather and uncle

To: Berry Simpson, September 1990, 34 years old, married 11 years, father of a 10-year-old son and 7-year-old daughter.

Mr. Simpson, you are just beginning your phase of life as a Bible teacher to adults, transitioning you into a new season of influence. Here is my advice to help you make the most of your impact. Take your time working through this list. You are a marathoner not a sprinter, so pace yourself. Start with the points that make the most sense to you, but don’t wait forever before embracing all the others. Remember, it matters how you live.  Casual living breeds casualties, so be intentional with your life.

Be a wanderer for Christ. Be satisfied you will never arrive at some exalted position where you know all you need to know to live as you should. That doesn’t mean failure; in fact, your life would be too boring if you achieved a place of no challenges with nothing left to learn. This is who you are: Peregrinatio pro Christi; a lifelong wanderer for Christ. Don’t give up your search.

Be a man of hope. There are too few voices of hope in the world, so make yours one of them. Everyone you meet has a story beyond belief, an unspoken struggle beyond description, and they all need your hope.

Live an authentic life. I say that with reservation knowing that authenticity is no virtue on its own. Some people are authentic jerks, and being true to their own nature only hurts themselves and people around them. But know that your authentic self longs to be like Jesus, so be real and true and honest about your journey.

Share what you learn. It is in the sharing itself that you will speak into the hearts of those around you. Right now, you think it is the information you teach that is important, but know that in the end, it is the act of sharing that matters most.

Stay culturally relevant. That doesn’t mean butterflying trend to trend, and it doesn’t mean sacrificing core beliefs for cultural acceptance. It means you shouldn’t long for the good old days when things were better and simpler. They weren’t. God is in the future, not the past. Don’t marginalize your message by becoming a “get off my lawn” curmudgeon, but be a forward-leaning voice calling your peers into the future.

Be a lifelong student of significant things. Don’t stop learning about history and theology, math and science, relationships and romance, adventure and courage, or art and love. Go after them. Keep a record. Take notes.

Search for God every day. You can grow closer and deeper into your relationship with God every day by following spiritual disciplines like reading your Bible, writing in your journal, sharing what you’ve learned, and memorizing scripture.

Pursue your love. In the movie, The Constant Gardener, Tessa says to Justin “You can learn me.” Spend the rest of your life learning your love: learn Cyndi; learn writing; learn teaching; learn your family; learn Cyndi.

Grow strong in community. You think you are strongest as an individual, with face set like flint to the wind, but you aren’t. You are stronger when surrounded by friends and family. Especially make friends with the men around you. God put them close to your life on purpose.

Let people get close. You cannot touch someone’s heart while standing behind a teaching podium in the same way you can while hiking on mountain trails together or sitting alongside at a baseball game. Let people see your life up close. Don’t be afraid to show them your failures. The closer they look, the more they’ll see past your own failures and find Jesus in your heart.

Keep your legs moving. To be honest, you have strong dependable legs, but arthritis and wear-and-tear will limit their range as you get older. Sorry, but It’s the truth. Even so, keep them moving. God will speak to you while your legs are moving more than while you are sitting. Who knows why this is true, but I can promise it is. Keep your legs moving and your ears open.

Don’t stay the way you’ve been. Reboot yourself and your habits and your hobbies regularly. It is in the transition between your safe older-self and your unknown future-self that your heart is most open to God.

Don’t wait to get started. You are afraid to look like a novice, and that stops you from trying. You are afraid to start new things without the right gear or knowledge. Thinks like writing, or backpacking, or cycling, or owning your own business. I am telling you to start anyway. Learn what you need, and what you need to know, on the fly. Besides, the best learning happens after you start.

The teacher always learns the most. Volunteer to be the teacher as often as possible. That is where real transformation takes place.

Men make friends outside. You are intimidated by other men because you don’t hunt or fish, you don’t play golf, and you didn’t play team sports. Stop worrying about that. Find some way to get outside with other men and let them get close to you.

It is OK to lean back in your chair. Furniture that moves is more satisfying to your heart and soul than inanimate, stationary, fixed furniture. Movement, in all its forms, keeps your heart alive. However, understand that you’ll get in trouble for doing it, so be discreet.

Run long races now. You know in your heart that you want to run more marathons and even ultra-marathons. Stop waiting for your fitness to improve, or for the situation to get better. Do it now, before arthritis takes away your knees. Stop being so nervous about how long it will take you to finish. Just go.

Talk to Cyndi about parenting styles and why you do things differently than she does. She feels alone and abandoned sometimes, like she is the only one who cares about disciplining your kids. Share your heart with her so she’ll know you are on her side.

Know this: All those people who love you today will still love you when you are 55 years old. You are fortunate. It is a rare life, so don’t take it for granted. Depend on it. It has given you a glimpse of God’s grace that few get to experience.

Give your life away. Share it with those people God has entrusted to you. Loot your life to the walls in search of better ways to share God’s story. This is your call: “For what I received I passed on to you …” (I Cor. 15:3a)

“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 012712: When is timing perfect?

There is a Bible story about God’s perfect timing found in the Old Testament book of Deuteronomy, about the Hebrew people’s journey from Egypt to their new home. Deuteronomy 1:2 says, “It is only eleven days journey from Hobeb by the way of Mount Seir to Kadesh-Barnea on Canaan’s border, yet Israel took forty years to get beyond it.”

Don’t let the strange names distract you. Pay attention to the numbers. Instead of 11 days, it took 14,600 days. It took 1327 times longer than it could have. That is a frightening extension.

You might say the 40 years was due to the people’s stubbornness and not God’s timing,  but the people weren’t ready the first time they came to the border. They needed all 40 years of transformation before making the big commitment.

The reason for 40 years was their own fault, because they chose to listen to ten fearful spies rather than listen to God, but that isn’t much comfort. I make way too many decisions of my own based on fear to be immune from the same fate. I’ve always hoped God will compensate for my lack of courage by taking up the slack instead of adding to the journey; but then, here is this story from Deuteronomy.

Granted, I don’t expect God’s journey to be quick and easy. As Jon Acuff wrote, “Journeys where the outcome is already known are not adventures, they’re errands. And we were created to do more than run errands.” But a 1327-fold increase? That is so far over the top it is incomprehensible.

The question I have to ask myself is this: Am I willing for my journey to take twice as long as I expect, or ten times longer, or 1327 times longer, if that is what God requires to transform me and transform my message? Am I willing to write another 40 years before 10,000 people will read one of books? Will I patiently teach 40 more years before knowing how much of it sticks? Am I willing to write weekly journals for another 40 years before I know if anyone reads them?

But the Bible story goes on further. God said, “You have stayed long enough at this mountain. Break camp and advance …”

They spent 40 years reshaping their national character, waiting for their turn, yet after all that, they were still a bit uncertain about when and where to go next. They had prepared long enough, they had fretted enough, it was time to advance.

One of the hardest things to know is when to advance. There is always something more to learn, a new skill to master, or resources to accumulate. In fact, I doubt I have ever felt “ready” for the next step of my life.

I certainly wasn’t ready for fatherhood. I thought I was ready for marriage but little did I know what it was really about. I wasn’t ready for my first job, or my first management position. I certainly wasn’t ready for my first day in city government. I have never been ready to run a marathon (which means I haven’t been ready nine times). I wasn’t ready the first time I got laid off, wasn’t ready to be self-employed. I wasn’t ready to build a new house, wasn’t ready to raise teenagers, wasn’t ready to be full-time Uncle Berry, wasn’t ready to lead Iron Men … and yet, here we are. Just like those Hebrews, 40 years of training didn’t seem like enough once I got the border of decision. It took a push from God every time.

God said in Deuteronomy 1:8, “See, I have given you this land, Go in and take possession.” Just because the moment of perfect timing has finally arrived doesn’t mean the job will get easier. Just because God tells us to advance and promises the future is ours doesn’t mean we won’t suffer casualties. We have to “take possession,” a short phrase that may represent a lifetime struggle. Maybe 40 more years.

What about you? How long are you willing to do the hard work to “take possession?” Another 40 years? Are you ready today? What is God telling you?

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

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

Journal entry 011912: Isolated

Monday morning I got a phone call from the doctor’s office to reschedule my appointment. Again. Bummer.

The appointment was with an Otolaryngologist (an ear, nose, and throat specialist, which is a more descriptive title but much less fun to write); my ears had been plugged up for the past month, or two. Maybe three. At first, it was an intermittent problem and I assumed it would go away, which is my first response to all ailments.

However, as the plugging in my ears became constant and persistent, I got desperate. So desperate, in fact, I called the Otolaryngologist for an appointment. It turns out they are very busy, and my appointment was rescheduled twice.

It was fortunate that my ears didn’t ache, but it was certainly irritating. I could hear, but muffled, as if wearing industrial ear protection. If you spoke softly around me, I’d never know. Even worse, I couldn’t tell how loud I was talking, so I tended to speak softly to compensate. Even worse than that, I couldn’t hear myself when playing trombone in church orchestra except for the sound moving through my own head. I think I was playing in tune since none of my fellow musicians flinched, but I couldn’t tell if I was too loud. At least no one scooted their chairs away.

The real effect from this hearing loss was the feeling of isolation. Since everything I heard blended into a composite roar, it was hard for me to focus on the specifics of the outside world. The isolation festered until I didn’t want to take on new projects and I hesitated to interact with people.

The surprising thing was that the isolation could have been an asset rather than a disappointing discomfort. For example: I’ve been going through an exercise with my guys (we call it Journey Partner Groups) where we discuss our life stories, analyze our personality types, list our hopes and dreams, all with the goal of understanding our place in God’s plan, our calling. My own personality printout repeated this theme over and over: “focused internally,” “inside his own mind,” “within his own head,” “lives primarily inside his own mind,” and like that. Knowing this about me, one might’ve assumed a little auditory pain-free isolation would play to my advantage, giving me another oft-sought-after buffer, but in fact, I hated living in a muffled world. I needed more input. More color.

I’ve learned something. The fact I don’t like being isolated even while living most of my life “inside my own head” reminds me how much I don’t want to live in a small world. I need a big circle. Some might say I need a big stage, but I think it more accurate to say I need a big impact. I need people.

That simple phrase, I need people, has been my favorite lesson to learn in the past two decades. It came as a surprise that I wasn’t adequate in and of myself to accomplish all I desired. I need people around me, especially other men. The men around me make me stronger, speak wisdom into my heart, and fill in the gaps I never knew I had.

It isn’t just that I need people around me; I also need to tell my story. I have to give away what I learn and experience. If I don’t have a way to engage and give away, I will lose interest and go to seed.

Well, I finally made it into the doctor’s office Tuesday morning, and they were great. The doctor poked me, gagged me with flat wooden sticks, lit an alcohol burner to heat a tiny mirror which he slid carefully into my open mouth, rang tuning forks against my head and in my ears, peered unpleasantly up my nostrils, felt for swelling in my neck, and finally pronounced: “Your left ear is full of wax. It’s totally plugged.”

He took me down the hall to the Pit of Despair where he hooked me up to his machine and vacuumed the wax out of my ear. Then, finally, just like that, I could hear.

I was happy the problem was simple and cheap to repair, but still, earwax build-up sounds so old-mannish. I asked, “Is this something I can prevent, or treat myself, in the future?”

“No, not really.”

“Should I schedule my next vacuuming appointment ahead of time, a bit of preventative maintenance?”

“No. Just come in when you can’t hear.”

Well, I’m happy to’ve rejoined the hearing world, and I don’t feel as isolated. I suppose I’ll crawl back inside my own mind and think up more stories to tell.

“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 011212: Known

Maybe you haven’t noticed this about me, but I keep most things to myself. I realize I often write more detail about life than I should, and maybe I include people in my stories that would rather not be in print, but for everything I reveal I hold more back. I don’t relish being closely examined, but keep the biggest portion of my heart (my hopes and dreams and hurts and pains) to myself.

I thought about those tendencies during the December holidays while reading the last book in the Bible: Revelation. Since I read through a chronologically-arranged version every year, Revelation always occupies my holidays.

This year I took special notice of a phrase used repeatedly during the early section of the book comprised of letters written to seven 1^st-Century churches.

To the church in Ephesus, “I know your deeds …: (2:1-7)

To the church in Smyrna, “I know your afflictions …” (2:8-11)

To the church in Pergamum, “I know where you live …” (2:12-17)

To the church in Thyatira, “I know your deeds …” (2:18-29)

To the church in Sardis, “I know your deeds …” (3:1-6)

To the church in Philadelphia, “I know your deeds …” (3:7-13)

To the church in Laodicea, “I know your deeds …” (3:14-22)

I wondered, was it good news or bad news when God looks you in the eye and says, “I know your deeds; I know all about you; I know how you are living?” I suppose it depends on how you think of God, whether as a heavy-handed rule-enforcer, or as a timely rescuer.

The phrase in Revelation reminded me of another great passage in the Bible, Psalm 139:1, which says, “You have examined my heart and know everything about me.” That is a good word, “examined.” The Amplified Bible says, “You have searched me thoroughly,” which is also good. Neither “examined” nor “searched” sounds casual. They both sound intentional and detailed.

Think about what the Psalmist did NOT say: “You have lightly considered me,” “You have given me a casual glance,” or “You thought about me once while passing.” No, God said we have been searched and examined, and known.

I must admit there were times in my life when I struggled to believe that verse, especially during a particularly long spell of living week after week on a financial knife-edge. Surely, a God who had His eye on me would have intervened and saved me. How could I believe God knew where I was? If He did, how did He let me get into this mess?

I prayed, “Lord, don’t You see how close we’ve come to disaster? Are You paying attention? Am I interrupting You when I pray? Have You noticed?” Whining like that made me feel guilty until I read Psalms, and realized I was not the first man to feel alone and abandoned.

I learned two things: (1) God always knows where we are and always knows our predicaments, and (2) God speaks softly and patiently and does not force His guidance upon us.

When we pray, we’re praying to a God that has examined our hearts and knows everything about us. He has searched us thoroughly, and according to the Bible, He helps us to pray for the things that we ought to pray for. That’s good, because I don’t know myself well enough to know how to pray. I need the help from an examiner.

During the past two years, God has led me along a deep personal journey to understand what it means to trust Him fully, to know He won’t let me down when I need Him most, and to stop worrying that He’ll be looking the other way when I call on Him. Even though I just wrote that sentence in a few seconds, it’s taken me months to understand the truth of it. And to be honest, I haven’t yet found the language to write the entire story. However, in the process of working out this personal revelation, God has gently reminded me of time after time when He knew exactly where I was and what I was doing and how bad it felt and how I thought I was all alone. He knew my deeds, and I am grateful. I am closer to Him because of it.

O Lord, You have examined my heart and know everything about me. Thank you for knowing my deeds.

“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 010512: It’s a new year

Ok, I’ll go ahead and admit it now, right out loud (or rather, write out loud); when my friend Daryl asked if I had a list of New Year’s Resolutions for 2012 and I admitted I’d been too distracted to make a list yet, I was embarrassed. Since I tend to make a big deal about New Year’s Resolutions and encourage people to make their own, it was unsettling to know I had let the practice slide. Of course, I had thoughts in my head, but not on paper, and until they end up on paper they don’t exist in the real world, and unless they exist in the real world nothing will happen and nothing will change. So once Daryl called me out, I went to work.

Some think of Resolutions like repentance – turning from your wicked ways and changing directions. Because there is an implied “I was living the wrong way” undercurrent, New Year’s Resolutions are often accompanied by guilt. That’s too bad. I don’t think of Resolutions as a judgment of last-year’s life; I see them as goals, enhancements, or recalculating my route from where I am today. A New Year’s Resolution gives me a direction to lean. (I don’t want to spend a whole year leaning the wrong way!)

A few of my goals have been on my list for so long they aren’t really resolutions, but minimal expectations … such as reading, writing, running, riding, loving, teaching, etc. I don’t usually include those on my annual list.

Here is my list for 2012:

Continue setting 30-day challenges each month. I hope to commit to real challenges that cost me something make me brave. (I’m sure if I have an entire year of ideas, but I’ll try.)

Run at least one marathon or ultra.

Take 10 men through the Journey Partner Group exercise.

Publish my next book.

Go backpacking: two solo trips, two group trips

Sell the Hobbs house and finalize that chapter.

Scan the boxes (and boxes and more boxes) of photos I’ve discovered while unpacking.

Print a photo album for my family. (Astute readers will know this has been on my list for the past couple of years. Sorry. I haven’t made even one album yet. I keep finding more photos to scan, and I hate completing a project when I suspect there might be more data points to include. However, I expect the photos I process from my parent’s house in Hobbs, which include several boxes from my grandmother, should be enough. I love the stories behind the photos, and I wish I could write a book for each one. God has richly blessed our family and these photos are valuable reminders.)

Run 700 miles. That’s only 60 per month, not a lot, but more than I’ve been doing. I haven’t put in many miles lately because of my sore arthritic knees, but really, that has become a lame excuse. It’s time to move on.

Ride 2400 miles on my bike. Again, not a lot, only 200 per month, but I need consistent time in the saddle in order to improve

Sell 1000 books.

I prefer to set goals that I have a decent chance to achieve, and resolutions that I can measure. However, I often set squishy goals as well. Sometimes it takes me a while, even a year or two, to understand the best way to make it happen. I know that sounds like an excuse, and maybe it is, but I like to think about things, and thinking takes time and research.

As I look back over my lists of New Year’s Resolutions from previous years I would say I’ve had a completion success rate of, maybe, 30%. If I were doing this for class credit 30% would be a failing grade. But what I also see as I look back over previous lists is how my unachieved goals and unrealized resolutions have moved me into projects and habits and character improvements that never would’ve happened otherwise, so even 30%, poor as it is, has made me a better man.

How about you? Do you have a list? Sharing Resolution and goals with each other is about more than accountability, it is about helping each other succeed. If you don’t have a list, consider making one. And send it to me. Maybe I know a secret or two to help you get your own 30%.

“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 122911: Recalculating hope

It was Thursday morning, December 1^st when I programmed my destination for the day – Buena Vista, Colorado - before leaving Denver International Airport’s Budget Rental Car Lot in my 4WD Jeep (alas, it was orange). My GPS started giving polite directions immediately and I felt safe and cared for, especially since it was snowing heavily and I wanted to concentrate on the road and not on my map.

But I knew something my GPS didn’t know: I was going to venture off I-70 to Prospect Park in Wheat Ridge and go for a run. Therefore I was prepared to hear “Recalculating” as soon as I took the exit for Kipling Street. I also got a whole new set of instructions.

But of course, I didn’t follow them; instead, I kept driving my route to the park. At every turn I heard the same sequence, “Recalculating” and another set of instructions to help me recover from my errors. Errors which, in the “mind” of my GPS, were beginning to pile up.

Being corrected over and over soon became irritating. I looked for a manual override button that would tell the GPS I had made the exit ON PURPOSE and to leave me alone about it and that I was a big boy and knew what I was doing, but there was no button. My unit didn’t have that feature.

But the GPS was having none of my rebellion. It didn’t give up. It still kept trying to steer me back to the Interstate.

It was, however, remarkably patient. It did NOT scream, "you dufus-head, can't you even follow basic directions."  No, it simply said, "Recalculating," and patiently gave me new directions toward my destination. Every time, over and over.

Some people consider the “Recalculating” message a patronizing, whiney, unwanted reminder of past mistakes. But it could be worse. It could say, “You missed your turn AGAIN, and now you are done for. There is no recovery. Pull to the side of the road, unload your car, drop a match in the gas tank, and signal a passing motorist for help. You are hopeless.”

I suppose you could say my GPS finally found satisfaction after I finished running and followed its persistent directions back to my route and obediently followed for the next 120 snowy miles to Buena Vista. We even shared long bouts of meditative silence once the GPS trusted me to stay the course.

Well, the point of my trip was to attend a men’s retreat, and in the Friday session one of the speakers, Sam Williamson, made the comment that the two best words in the English language were: “recalculating route.” He said, “They are good words because they represent hope.”

It was one of those rare times when I understood the weight of his statement the minute I heard it. Just a few hours before, when my own GPS said “Recalculating,” it wasn’t reminding me that I’d made a mistake. It was saying, “Berry, you aren’t lost forever. I can get you where you want to go, and I can do it from right here. You don’t have to go back to the point where you deviated from the original route. And you aren’t done for. Your turn isn’t over. Just give me a couple of seconds to recalculate. It might not be the route that locals would favor. But it will get you there. Just trust me.”

Williamson’s point was how wonderful it is to know God treats us the same way. God says, “It’s OK. Your wrong turn wasn’t fatal. You aren’t done for. Unlike Inigo Montoya, you don’t have to go back to the beginning. I can get you where you need to go, starting from here.”

Even when I veer off the optimum route on purpose to squeeze in a run or buy a giant Diet Coke, or even if I simply think I know better, God still speaks gently. He never says, “You did that on purpose. If you want My help, get your own self back on the right road. And do it now.”

No, He calmly reassures me by reminding me that He can get me where I need to go, I don’t have to backtrack, He can recalculate the route from …

I took the wrong engineering job? “Recalculating.”

I have to start over and go back to school long after I’d assumed I’d be done? “Recalculating.”

We got pregnant five years earlier than we wanted? “Recalculating.”

I didn’t get that promotion that seemed to be in-the-bag and now my career is in shambles? “Recalculating.”

Our delightful empty-nest years are suddenly more crowded than I ever expected? “Recalculating.”

I have arthritis in my knees when I have so many more miles to run and I finally have enough free time to do it? “Recalculating”

I can’t get a publisher or agent to even look at one of my books, even after I was certain this was my calling and purpose? “Recalculating.”

Are you kidding me? Retirement will take ANOTHER WHOLE YEAR? “Recalculating”

I lost a city-wide election after giving my life away for twelve years? “Recalculating.”

OK, so maybe the story of life doesn’t follow the simple route that locals would favor, and maybe most of the detours came from our own presumptions or miscalculations, but we aren’t done for. There is hope: “Recalculating.”

I’m writing this as we acknowledge the end of 2011 and stare at the beginning of 2012. Often the end of a year is frustrating as we dwell on all our wrong turns and rebellious detours and blown resolutions. But the New Year is an opportunity to start over, not from where you thought you’d be, but from where you are now. Recalculate now. New Years is a season of hope, knowing that God hasn’t forgotten about you, and He can get you where you need to go. Just trust Him.

“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 122211: A season of stories

We spent last week in Hobbs packing boxes. My parents moved to Midland in order to keep a closer eye on us, and somehow they also convinced us to pack about 1,000 boxes. It may’ve been one of those Tom-Sawyer-painting-the-fence moments.

Cyndi and Tanya and Patti, a packing swat team if ever, went over and packed kitchen gear on Wednesday, and I went over Friday and Saturday to pack and make two U-Haul runs to Midland. By Saturday night Mom & Dad were in their new house, and before you knew it they were happily watching The Glen Miller Story on DVD in their new living room.

Our family hasn’t moved a lot compared to some. Well, my brother reminds me he’s moved every couple of years for the last thirty years, but that is the way of younger brothers. The rest of us, we tend to stay in one place too long. And I say too long because unless you move occasionally you never filter your possessions and they accumulate beyond imagination. Cyndi and I discovered that three years ago when we moved from a house where we’d lived for 26 years. Mom and Dad’s move is about the same sort of thing except with the added benefit of 56 years of marriage. And, unlike us, they moved into less space, not more. Some major filtering had to take place.

Of course, moving is more than boxing belongings. It is about moving lives, about moving connections (some of them decades old), and maybe most of all, it is about moving stories. The stories we tell over and over, the stories we keep in our heart, the stories we cherish to remember people we love, and the stories that define us. All of those stories are permanently linked to the artifacts we keep around us in our home. So when it comes time to move, it is a process of editing and filtering stories, not just thinning the load. It is never a small thing. As we used to say in math class, it is a nontrivial process.

And what I learned while packing boxes was that many of those artifacts hold my own stories. For example, I brought back a 5” plaster cast of my own handprint, made when I was four years old. I don’t remember many stories from when I was four, but I remember making those plaster handprints every summer when I visited my grandparents. I have memories of them hanging on the walls of several houses I grew up in, a tangible marker of a young boy growing up with larger and larger hands.

I also found three slender glasses from my college days, each bearing the inscription “Pride of Oklahoma.” They were mementoes from the annual banquet of the OU marching band, where I played trombone. One of them had a tuft of turf grass I pulled from the field at the Orange Bowl back in 1977 (which OU lost to Arkansas, of all things). Just seeing those glasses and that piece of dried up grass sent me down a long path of storytelling from a deeply formative, enriching, time in my life.

And those were just my stories. All the boxes now stacked in my garage (since the new house didn’t have room for everything) hold stories that belong to my parents. Deciding how to handle them is not a small task. I will take my time going through them, even if it means I’ll be parking my pickup out front a little longer.

One day this week at lunch, while eating chicken fajitas and reading from my Daily Bible, I was reminded how the pages in my bible are one of my story repositories. I write in the margin whenever a significant event occurs, which means I get reminded of the stories and people every year when I read that entry again. If George Smiley ever decided to investigate my life he could piece together a very good timeline just from the margin notes in that Bible.

Sunday morning in our adult Bible study class we discussed the Christmas story, and the many methods we use to tell it. We sing it, paint it, dramatize it, portray it in live nativities, read it, complain about it when someone uses phraseology we don’t like, light up our houses for it. We go to great lengths to tell the story of Jesus using as many media as possible. Why? Because we hope those who’ve never heard the story will open their heart to hear it this year. And we hope those of us who’ve heard the story so often we hardly listen will open our hearts again as if to hear it for the first time.

And now that I am a grandfather with plans to spend the majority of my Christmas weekend in the company of my stunning little granddaughter, the notion of passing along stories seems even more important.

Our lives are stories, and passing along those important stories give our lives value and depth. May this Christmas be a rich storytelling session for you and your family. May it remind you who you really are, and whose you really are.

Merry Christmas. Tell the 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