Worried about trusting

by Berry D Simpson

Is it always bad to worry about stuff? People say that 90% of what we worry about never happens, but isn’t that an argument in favor of worry? As for me, I worry about things all the time. It’s just that I do my worrying on the inside, to myself, so it isn’t obvious to everyone else.

I recently attended Pantego Bible Church with my daughter and son-in-law, Katie and Drew, and in their Community Group (I would call it Sunday School), we talked about our tendency to worry, and about Jesus’ admonition from Matthew 6.

 “Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. (from Matthew 6:25 and 34, NIV)

The problem I have with this verse is that I don’t know how to stop worrying on command. To tell me to stop worrying is like Cyndi telling me to “just relax” when we’re dancing. If I could relax on purpose I would be relaxed already. Likewise, if I could simply stop worrying, I would. I need a strategy, an activity to do, in place of worry. Maybe it’s the same for you.

So the very next Monday morning I read a great follow-up to our Sunday discussion about worry, from

Jesus Calling, by Sarah Young: “Sit quietly in My presence while I bless you. Make your mind like a still pool of water, ready to receive whatever thoughts I drop into it. Calmly bring matters to me … then simply do the next thing.”

Sarah Young gave two good strategies for handling worry, the first was contemplative meditation. She said that instead of trying to solve all the problems and work it out myself, I should settle my mind and let God drop his thoughts inside. Wait for him to speak.

Here’s how it works for me. When I’m buried by worries I often find myself praying, “Lord I don’t know what to do with this, my attitude stinks, so I’m asking you to speak to me.” Then I start writing in my journal, creating a dialogue, even argument, with myself, going over all the worries I’ve had, and listing my own crazy solutions.

It’s important for me to physically write these down on paper. Just thinking about them, or even talking about them, doesn’t do the same thing. Over and over God speaks to me while I am writing, while I have my pen in my hand scratching on paper. When I finish I’ve written out ideas and solutions that had never occurred to me before I started writing.

Another thing that happens: Sometimes I hear from God directly. I would say I hear an audible voice but that’s too spooky to put into print. But it happens in the most unlikely of places, such as in the stairwell at my office, or cycling down Highway 191, or running on the dirt roads near my house, or even in the shower at Gold’s Gym. It never comes all at once and the solution is never what I expected, but there is no mistaking God as the source.

Those two scenarios (writing in my journal or hearing God’s voice) have happened so often I’ve grown to expect them. Instead of worrying on my own, I’ve learned to relax into the process and trust that God will indeed, speak to me again.

Curiously, this reminds me of when I started reading Tom Clancy. With the first book, Hunt for Red October, I fell into a predictable pattern: (1) I struggled through the first third of the book trying to learn the characters and keep up with the threads; until (2) I realized Clancy would remember the characters I needed to know so I relaxed and enjoyed the middle third of the book; but (3) I would lay awake in bed half the night trying to solve the rest of the puzzle and save the world. Eventually I reminded myself that Clancy was better at figuring out the solution than I was, and besides, he had already written the book. So I got out of bed and finished the last third of the book that night. I let the expert tell me his story instead of trying to figure it out myself. Instead of losing sleep worrying, I lost sleep reading, which was much better.

And while you might think I would remember this solution with the next Clancy book and avoid the sleepless nights, I never did. I repeated the same entire sequence of trying to do it myself before letting the expert handle it. At least a dozen times.

This is how I’ve learned to trust God. When I find myself paralyzed with worry over an upcoming choice or conversation or confrontation, I have to remind myself to trust the expert. God has already worked out the story. Just let him tell me the details in his own good time.

I wish I could say I remember this whenever a new problem comes up, but I don’t. I repeat the same sorry sequence of trying to do it myself before, finally, writing and listening and letting the expert handled it.

Back to Sarah Young’s advice, “Calmly bring matters to me (God) … then simply do the next thing.”

This is the tricky part. If I ask God to speak to me, and I ask him to change my heart, I’m obligated to step gingerly through the next opening, next idea, next pattern, or next attitude. Seeking God only works if I’m willing to step through his openings into his solutions.

QUESTION: How about you, how do you cope with worry?

“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

Remodeled

by Berry D Simpson

Not sure if you’ve noticed this, but I don’t need a lot of change in my life. For example, I just bought a pickup and gave my old one to my son. The new truck is a red Toyota Tacoma, exactly like my first one except newer and with fewer miles. My pens and books and tie-down ropes and fleece jackets (for Cyndi) all fit in exactly the same places. A new truck exactly like my old truck … made me very happy. Like I said, I don’t need a lot of change.

Another example? I tend to leave things alone. I’ve never done much remodeling in the places where I live. I might become obsessive while designing a space, going over the details and options for way too long, but once the space is built and I’ve moved in, I’ happy to leave it as it is from now on. That’s true for houses, my work space and desk, my closet, my pickup, and true for my yard and landscaping.

It isn’t that I am afraid of the process. I built a wall in our garage in Brownfield, creating a nice utility room, and I built a wall and changed closets in our house on Whittle Way, providing more useful space for both Byron and Katie. But that’s about it for home remodeling. I haven’t needed or wanted to change anything else.

Regarding landscaping, I’ve only changed our yard once, when we replaced turf grass with ground cover in 1998. I suppose I did recreate our back yard once, but that was more recovery than remodeling since our pet rabbits ate all the grass down to the dirt and we had to start over.

All that is to say, I like things, in general, the way they are. Which is usually the same as the way they were.

However, I’ve also learned to embrace the energy that change brings. For me, one of the joys of aging is that I don’t resist change as much as I used to. I may not initiate it, but I look forward to it. I’ve finally grown up enough that I like to try new things and learn new skills and new ideas. I don’t want to become that cranky “you kids get off my lawn” guy.

Granted, my personal vision of life change is mostly made up of slightly newer versions of what I am already doing. Nothing radical. I’m hardly an early-adopter. And certainly, I don’t make changes simply for the purpose of changing. I need a better reason than that.

But even the few things I’ve changed aren’t such a big deal. Living space is just wood and concrete, landscaping is just plants and trees, new exercise programs are just more opportunities to sweat and buy new gear.

The reason I’m writing about something I don’t do much of, is, the title of my next book, which should be out this fall, will be Remodeled: Stories from a Changed Heart. Because of the title, I have been playing around with the notion of remodeling. And the remodeling I’m most concerned with is the reshaping of my heart.

Each time I tell my story to the guys, something I do a half dozen times a year, I’m more aware of how Jesus has remodeled my heart, making it into his home. Not with hammer, nails, or sheetrock and paint, but with adventures and tragedies and writing and teaching. And with Cyndi. The biggest tool Jesus has for remodeling my heart into his image is the influence of Cyndi living alongside me.

In fact, I’ve changed more than I thought I needed to. Having grown up in church among a devout and faithful Christian family, I assumed if my heart needed changing it would be only small increments. I never figured I’d need serious remodeling.

This week I noticed the remodeling project going on at the Burger King restaurant on Andrews Highway in Midland. Have you seen it? The sign out front says “Closed for remodel,” but all that is left of the original structure is a pile of broken concrete. They are remodeling the building all the way down to the dirt, stretching the word “remodel” way beyond its original meaning.

Is that how Jesus remodels our hearts? While we are cruising along through life thinking all we need is a small touch-up, does Jesus notice our foundation is shot and he has to start over from scratch? I don’t know if it always has to be that severe, but I’m sure I wouldn’t change at all if Jesus didn’t make it happen.

So here is my challenge. Ask Jesus to remodel your heart into his image. Give him access to all your hidden closets and attic space and landscaping. Know that it will be messy and dusty and, like all remodeling projects, take longer than you expected. Trust that in the process of being changed his grace will flow through you into the lives of your family and friends. Be brave. Embrace the change.

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

Journal Entry 083012: Remodeled

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

Choosing a life

by Berry Simpson

Last weekend, while wrapping up my third book, I took a break and watched the movie “The Way.” Before the weekend was over, I’d watched it three times.

The Way, released in 2010, is a collaboration between Martin Sheen and his son Emilio Estevez. It tells the story of Tom Avery, an American ophthalmologist who comes to St. Jean Pied de Port, France to collect the remains of his adult son, killed in the Pyrenees in a storm while walking the Camino de Santiago, also known as The Way of Saint James. In a surprising combination of grief and homage to his son, Tom decides to walk the ancient spiritual trail where his son died.

In a flashback scene we witness the strained relationship between Tom’s adult son, Daniel, who wants to travel and experience the world, and his father, a widower, who wants his only child to get serious, settle down, and choose a life similar to his own.

Daniel said, “You don’t choose a life, Dad. You live it.” I liked that line right away even though I mostly disagreed with it.

I think we do have to choose a life. We choose every day whether to follow God, or love our wives, or live healthy and nutritious. We choose whether to follow God’s calling. We have to choose our path and our direction.

For example, all the pilgrims in the movie chose to walk the Way of St. James. Including Daniel. They had a variety of reasons, but none of them ended up there accidently. Even Tom Avery, who hadn’t planned to walk, made a conscious choice.

What Tom didn't choose was the profound effect this trip would have on him. An inexperienced trekker, he soon discovered that he would not be alone on his journey. On the Camino de Santiago, Tom met other pilgrims from around the world, each with their own issues, each looking for greater meaning in their lives. Tom learned that it was better for his own heart to travel with a group than tackle the journey alone.

He also learned that the journey itself was most important, not just the destination. In the beginning he walked as fast as he could, just to cover the ground, get it over with, and finish as quickly as possible. He was just doing his duty. But as his pilgrimage progressed, he slowed down and enjoyed the trip with his friends. He allowed his heart to change.

What I realized at the end of the movie, and the reason I watched it over again and again, was this: we may choose the journey, but we can’t choose the meaning. We choose our path, but not the message, the lesson, the impact, or the changes that will come from it. We choose a life, but we then have to live life as it comes. We have to live out the changes in our heart.

Maybe we choose to let Jesus make his home in our heart, giving  him permission to remodel our heart to his liking … but we don’t get to pick the stories he’ll use, the adventures he’ll take advantage of, or the person we’ll become. We have to trust him with the changes he’ll make in our heart.

So during this past year I’ve spent a lot of time inside Ephesians 3:17-19, working on my book. The verses conclude with this promise, And so at last you will be filled up with God himself.

I spent most of my Christian life assuming that being filled with God meant I would have some sort of spiritual superpower, greater insight, or even magical teaching skills. I was certain the reason God wanted to fill me with himself was so I could perform better. I didn’t appreciate that he wanted to fill me with himself just to be together with me, to take me further down the way. While I have been intentional about choosing a life, I had no way to anticipate the changes Jesus would make in my heart.

I pray that you will choose the path God has laid out before you, and that you will allow the changes he wants to make along the way. Let’s choose our life, and let’s live our life.

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

Journal entry 082312: Choosing the way

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

Berry D. Simpson

Last weekend, while wrapping up my third book, I took a break and watched the movie “The Way.” Before the weekend was over, I’d watched it three times.

The Way, released in 2010, is a collaboration between Martin Sheen and his son Emilio Estevez. It tells the story of Tom Avery, an American ophthalmologist who comes to St. Jean Pied de Port, France to collect the remains of his adult son, killed in the Pyrenees in a storm while walking the Camino de Santiago, also known as The Way of Saint James. In a surprising combination of grief and homage to his son, Tom decides to walk the ancient spiritual trail where his son died.

In a flashback scene we witness the strained relationship between Tom’s adult son, Daniel, who wants to travel and experience the world, and his father, a widower, who wants his only child to get serious, settle down, and choose a life similar to his own.

Daniel said, “You don’t choose a life, Dad. You live it.” I liked that line right away even though I mostly disagreed with it.

I think we do have to choose a life. We choose every day whether to follow God, or love our wives, or live healthy and nutritious. We choose whether to follow God’s calling. We have to choose our path and our direction.

For example, all the pilgrims in the movie chose to walk the Way of St. James. Including Daniel. They had a variety of reasons, but none of them ended up there accidently. Even Tom Avery, who hadn’t planned to walk, made a conscious choice.

What Tom didn't choose was the profound effect this trip would have on him. An inexperienced trekker, he soon discovered that he would not be alone on his journey. On the Camino de Santiago, Tom met other pilgrims from around the world, each with their own issues, each looking for greater meaning in their lives. Tom learned that it was better for his own heart to travel with a group than tackle the journey alone.

He also learned that the journey itself was most important, not just the destination. In the beginning he walked as fast as he could, just to cover the ground, get it over with, and finish as quickly as possible. He was just doing his duty. But as his pilgrimage progressed, he slowed down and enjoyed the trip with his friends. He allowed his heart to change.

What I realized at the end of the movie, and the reason I watched it over again and again, was this: we may choose the journey, but we can’t choose the meaning. We choose our path, but not the message, the lesson, the impact, or the changes that will come from it. We choose a life, but we then have to live life as it comes. We have to live out the changes in our heart.

Maybe we choose to let Jesus make his home in our heart, giving  him permission to remodel our heart to his liking … but we don’t get to pick the stories he’ll use, the adventures he’ll take advantage of, or the person we’ll become. We have to trust him with the changes he’ll make in our heart.

So during this past year I’ve spent a lot of time inside Ephesians 3:17-19, working on my book. The verses conclude with this promise, And so at last you will be filled up with God himself.

I spent most of my Christian life assuming that being filled with God meant I would have some sort of spiritual superpower, greater insight, or even magical teaching skills. I was certain the reason God wanted to fill me with himself was so I could perform better. I didn’t appreciate that he wanted to fill me with himself just to be together with me, to take me further down the way. While I have been intentional about choosing a life, I had no way to anticipate the changes Jesus would make in my heart.

I pray that you will choose the path God has laid out before you, and that you will allow the changes he wants to make along the way. Let’s choose our life, and let’s live our life.

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

Journal entry 082312: Choosing the way

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 

Just for you

by Berry Simpson

Being in love is not something that casually happens to us; We do it on purpose. Falling in love may be pure emotion, random and unpredictable and unexpected, but staying in love is an act of the will, intentional and specific.

This July marked the 33^rd anniversary for Cyndi and me. We were married July 28, 1979. A few years ago it occurred to me that instead of expecting gifts on our wedding anniversary, I should make it a habit to give something away. The anniversary itself, the fact that we are still together after all these years, is gift enough for me. (I learned this from my friend Fred Walsh. At least, I’m giving him credit.)

So I decided to give away love songs. I figure that if listening to love songs reminds you how to be in love, well then, we all should listen more often. In fact, for that very reason I have been a collector of love songs for decades. My iTunes “love song playlist” is gigantic; you’ve probably heard some of it if you’ve been to our house for any kind of party. Music is a social medium and it should be shared. In fact, it must be shared to have its full impact, so giving away some of my favorites seemed the appropriate thing to do. This is my 6^th collection of love songs to give away since I started, and I expect there will be many more

I am aware that a couple of these might not meet the strictest criteria for love songs, but they make me smile when I hear them, and that’s close enough. I hope at least one of these songs will speak to your own heart and push you closer toward your own true love. If you would like a CD containing this collection, send your mailing address to berry@stonefoot.org.

And another thing – I intend to stay with Cyndi for many more anniversaries so I'll be cobbling together another collection for our 34th in 2013. Since I don’t hear a lot of current music unless they play it on NPR or at Gold’s Gym, I need your suggestions. I’ll add them to my big playlist

There is my 2012 playlist:

1. This Time It's Real, Tower of Power, 1973. OK, it’s not as if I had a long history of being in love before Cyndi. Maybe once. But I’m convinced that this time, it’s real. (And I can’t resist the horns about 3:15. Nothing says love like kickin’ horns.)

2. I'm Into Something Good, The Bird and the Bee, 2010. This is the sweetest version of the old Herman’s Hermits song I’ve ever heard.

3. Echoes of My Mind, John Rivera, 2011. While on the Island of Kauai in July, we heard John Rivera playing in the farmer’s market at the Kukui’ula Village Shopping Center. He sang this Harry Nilsson song, and I couldn’t resist the line, “Going where the weather suits my clothes.” It reminds me of Cyndi, who always wants to wear warm-weather clothes.

4. That's Life, Paul Thorn, 2010. I like the line, “You’re in my prayers every night, enjoy the journey that’s life.”

5. Someone Like You, Doris Day, 1945. Doris Day appeared on Fresh Air for her 88th birthday, and I loved this song.

6. The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing, Kurt Eling, 1998. I don’t remember dancing more than once before I married Cyndi. Of course, she lives to dance. Her eyes become electric, her smile contagious, and she rises tall with confidence. She takes over the room. How can I not be part of that? In spite of my lack of skill, I dance with Cyndi whenever I can. Like the song says, “Even guys with two left feet come out OK if the girl is sweet.”

7. Rhythm of Love, Plain White T's, 2010. This was simply too contagious not to use. You must smile, and move, while listening.

8. Everybody, Ingrid Michaelson, 2009. A Pandora discovery, from the Love Song station.

9. Zoo Be Zoo Be Zoo, Sophia Loren, 1960. This song had a rebirth this year because of the TV show, Mad Men. It’s a reminder of how simple love can be.

10. Just You and Me, Zee Avi, 2010. Here is another Pandora discovery. I couldn’t resist a song that references Kierkegaard.

11. Nice 'n' Easy, Frank Sinatra, 1960. Sinatra didn’t treat women, or love, like he should’ve, but he sure did sing it well.

12. Right Down the Line, Bonnie Raitt, 2012. I cannot resist Bonnie Raitt, especially singing Gerry Rafferty.  My favorite lyric: “I know how much I lean on you, right down the line.”

13. Love, Matt White, 2007. This song came from Katie (Simpson) Noss. It makes me happy.

14. Lifening, Snow Patrol, 2011. Another song from Katie (Simpson) Noss. I liked it even more when she told me her favorite lyric. (You’ll have to ask her yourself.)

15. When We're Together, Mark Harris, 2011. From the movie, “Courageous.” Listen to it and dance with your daughters. Don’t waste those moments.

16. Romance in the Dark, Catherine Russell, 2012. I heard this song on a Fresh Air podcast while cycling down Highway 191; it was all I could do to keep from turning around and going back home to Cyndi.

17. Love Makes the World, Carole King, 2001. One of the books I read this year was Carole King’s autobiography, “A Natural Woman.” I had to include one of her songs.

18. From Here to the Moon and Back, Dolly Parton, 2012. This is from the movie, “Joyful Noise,” about a love that lasts longer than life itself, which is exactly what I’m hoping for.

19. Just for You, Sam Cooke, 1957. It’s the reason I make these CDs year after year. It’s the reason I do anything and everything.  It’s just for you, Mrs. Simpson. Just for 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

About home and space

I know, I know, I may have to turn in my Man Card for saying this, but I enjoyed shopping with Cyndi at Ikea. There. Done.

In fact, we spent about three hours in Richardson, Texas, trolling the aisles at Ikea. Fortunately they have arrows painted on the floor so you won’t get lost, and also to ensure shoppers get a chance to see everything they sell. We saw it all at least once, but my favorite parts of the store were the examples of living in small spaces. Very small, as in 500 square feet.

While they were extremely small and compact, at least for this westerner, it was amazing how Ikea fit everything you needed into the tiny spaces without feeling overly cramped. You could understand how something that small might really work. Of course, you couldn’t own more than 18” of clothes or more than two pairs of shoes.

I told Cyndi, “I can imagine living like this if I hadn’t gotten married.” Not that being married demands so much more space, but my life would be very small without her influence. I doubt I would live a large life, be pulled into the larger story, or even long to be around so many people, if I didn’t have 33 years of Cyndi in my life.

I know we could live simpler and more efficiently if we had to, but I’m glad we don’t have to make that choice. I am happy that we don’t live such tiny lives.

However, living space isn’t my real concern. Mother Theresa had little if any personal space and she lived a huge life. Like her, I want Cyndi and I to leave a large footprint in the world, a huge wake, a lasting impact. Even at my most introverted I still want moments when I’m surrounded by a houseful of friends. Leave No Trace is a fine goal for backpacking, but I don’t want that to be said about our lives.

As Cyndi and I walked through Ikea, I reminded myself that we intentionally designed our own house with a mind to fill it up with people. Even more, so we could bring people along with us. We want everyone, not just those inside our house, but people living alongside us, joining us on this journey to know and love God better. Not as a band of disciples or followers, but as fellow travelers, as brothers on the trail.

Maybe I was extra-conscious of our house and our lives because of Ikea’s inspiring vision – “to create a better everyday life for the many people” – or maybe it was because I’ve been working on my next book, which will be about home and space.

It wasn’t until Cyndi and I started designing the floor plan of the house where we now live that I came to appreciate the sacredness of space. I wrote:

I was too young to understand all of that before. I had thought of space as mostly utilitarian; I never imagined it was connected to our hearts.

I expected to develop a relationship with these rooms. I expected them to become knowledgeable witnesses to our dreams. I expected the shape of this house to shape my future life and behavior, even guard my identity and help me remember who I am. Maybe I’d write a book sitting in this very room I was standing in. Maybe we’d sit with close friends in that other room, watching a great movie and talking about our lives. Maybe Cyndi would stand in the kitchen, cooking S’mores with grandchildren and creating lifelong memories. Maybe I’d chase Cyndi into that room, and that one, and all the rooms. Maybe someone in our family would live awhile in some of these rooms, finding in them a safe haven in a world of uncertainty.

It wasn’t that space itself had magical spiritual qualities. I know that some consider certain geographic locations to be holy places, but I don’t believe the holiness is in the rocks and trees and air. I believe the holiness comes from people doing holy things in those places, and from pilgrims having expectant hearts when they visit. Places are sacred because of the time we invest in them. They become sacred because our hearts are there. Cyndi and I were putting as much of our hearts into this space as we knew how, making it as sacred as we could.

Since moving in about three-and-a-half years ago, we’ve had 60+ people in our house on several occasions, eating soup, or eating hamburgers, or eating fresh corn on the cob (seems to be a theme). Having so many people interacting and laughing makes me happy; the fact that they mostly entertain themselves and I don’t have to work the crowd, even happier. And even better than that – we don’t have to squeeze into 500 square feet of space.

Oh, and in case you were worried about that Man Card thing, don’t bother. It’s too late. I pulled it out and laid it face-down on the table while watching the Olympic gymnasts perform on the rings. Seeing them made me feel like a little boy more than anything Ikea could muster.

“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

Approximating closer

Physics was one of my favorite classes in high school. Especially physics lab. I remember simulating transverse waves using an extra-long Slinky stretched 30 or 40 feet down the hallway between classrooms. Of course, we made it a contest to see who could keep the most waves in motion at the same time, but it was hard to keep an accurate count of waves moving in both directions simultaneously. Curious students walked past as we were wave making and asked, “What classes are you in and how do I get to play with a Slinky at school?” When we answered, “Physics,” they shook their heads and kept walking.

This was decades before geeky became cool. Even so, I was always surprised that everyone didn’t consider physics fun.

In physics, you have to be OK with not knowing everything you want to know. The first step in solving any problem was to disregard the factors we weren’t smart enough to calculate, like friction or wind resistance or static electricity effects. The standard joke, funny to all us baby physicists, was, “Why don’t we just disregard the whole problem and go to lunch?”

The thing is, physics is only a tool; it isn’t the whole truth. Physics, as with all the sciences, is only an approximation of how the world really behaves. When an experiment finds disagreement between theory and the world, the theory has to go. It is the true behavior of nature that matters, not our approximation of it.

Yet, it spite of so many questions we cannot answer, we know enough, or approximate close enough, to put men on the moon six different times, and enough to send two Voyager spacecraft on 35-year missions that are still ongoing and are approaching the edges of our own Solar System.

Last month I read a book about one of my heroes, physicist Richard Feynman, titled Quantum Man, by Lawrence M. Krauss. Krauss quoted Feynman, “People say to me, ‘Are you looking for the ultimate laws of physics?’ No, I’m not. I’m just looking to find out more about the world.”

I like this quote because Feynman is so grounded. For him, it wasn’t the abstract study of physics that really mattered, but the study of the world.

It was easy for physicists chasing the Nobel Prize to be captured by the search for a Unified Theory - one theory that tied together all the competing and conflicting ideas - gravity, electromagnetism, quantum forces. Feynman said he wasn’t after one theory that ruled them all. He just wanted to know more about the world.

Krauss wrote, “Nature, like life, takes all sorts of stray twists and turns, and most important, it is largely insensitive to one’s likes and dislikes.”

He was reminding us that nature doesn’t care about our physics. It is up to us to get it correct, not up to nature to conform to something we can easily understand. For physicists, that can be disappointing when they have a beautiful idea that nature chooses not to exploit.

I can understand all that, even as a Bible teacher. It’s easy to be captured by the search for a Unified Theory - one theology that ties together all the competing and conflicting ideas - grace and judgment, free will and sovereignty, even creation and end times. Like Feynman, I don’t want to chase after all that. I just want to know more about living God’s life today.

As Bible students, we have to be comfortable not knowing everything we want to know: not because we aren’t smart enough, but because that’s how God intends it. In the Bible God never revealed everything about himself. Even when he agreed to show himself to Moses on Mount Sinai, he only showed his back. Full knowledge of God was too much for a human to handle, even for a superhero like Moses.

It took me a long time to settle with partial knowledge. I kept waiting for secret memo to show up, tucked in some obscure part of my Bible, the memo that spelled out everything. Instead, all I got were more questions.

Maybe all we know about God is an approximation, but the more we study and experience him, the closer our approximations can become to the God who really is. And learning about things we’ll never fully understand, like physics, like God, can be the best part of the journey.

“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

Catch a wave and you’re sittin’ on top of the world

Berry D. Simpson

I’ll just say right up front, I enjoyed surfing lessons more than I expected to. I can’t claim to have surfed in the purest sense of the word, but I was up on my feet on my board at least two times, maybe three (depending on your minimum threshold of verticality).

I never thought of surfing as something I could do, but the momentum of the group swept me along. If Britt hadn’t tried it, I doubt I would have, either. If Drew (who’ll try anything) hadn’t proposed it, if Patti (who loves the water and the beach) and Cyndi (who loves to move) hadn’t found the instructor and signed us all up, it never would have occurred to me to look for it. However, there we were, Monday morning in Kauai, six Texans at Hanamaulu Beach Park for surfing lessons. It was a great beach with smooth sand, free of rocks, and the waves were perfect for us. I had no excuses.

My resistance to surfing had nothing to do with my age, as some may’ve suspected, but with water. I really have no confidence in things that happen in the water. My people are not water people. As my mom recently reminded me, “We don’t like to have our head in the water.”

However, in spite of that family tradition, I was not afraid of drowning or injury. No, I was afraid to look stupid, which is much scarier than getting hurt.

It would be fair and accurate to say that I have no intrinsic athletic ability at all. I didn’t play sports through school save mandatory P.E. classes. As an adult, I run too slow, weigh too much, limp too often, and quit too soon. I took up running in 1978 for one reason only - to win back my girlfriend who had been dating a track-and-field jock. It’s true that I’ve recently taken up cycling again, but that hardly qualifies me as an athlete. Running and cycling demand endurance and tolerance of discomfort more than athletic grace and skill.

Surfing caused me to wonder: how many other adventures are out there - not just scary ones, but fun ones - where all I need is someone to sign me up, and a group of friends to sweep me along. Maybe I should give myself more credit and try more often; make my default answer, “Sure, I’ll try that!”

Well, courage and risk come in a variety of ways. On Friday, the next week back in Midland, I had a chance to go cycling with a good friend who was in the USA for a month. Cycling with Todd was an opportunity for an extended conversation with a valued Christian friend. However, since it was going to be just the two of us riding, I also knew it would be hard cycling. Todd is a coach at heart and I knew he would push me to ride faster and maybe ride further. To ride with him was to take an intentional risk in hope of moving up another level.

What was the big risk? That I would fall apart in front of someone I didn’t want to fall apart in front of and have to limp home, or worse, call home for Cyndi to come get me. I might embarrass myself in front of a friend, which, as all men know, can be worse than death.

Todd and I rode to Odessa and back, a 47-mile round trip from my house, and a long way for someone like me. In addition, we rode at least 2 mph faster than I would’ve ridden by myself. I spent the rest of the weekend telling my story and beating my chest. I was a proud and happy man.

Don’t get me wrong. I know the difference between what I did and what real cyclists do. The riding speed that I was so proud of didn’t even approach what Todd rides regularly back home in Saudi Arabia, and it was less that 40% of what Tour de France cyclists do over the same distance. I also know that standing upright on a surfboard for a cumulative 20 seconds is hardly surfing worth a Beach Boys’ song.

I’m not deceived by my efforts, but still, my mind is different today that it was three weeks ago. I’m a different man on the inside. Sometimes something happens that makes you think of yourself in a different category, allows you to use new adjectives inside your head. It is a mental step forward. It is a gift.

My advice? Spend time with faster people, and let them pull you into the future. Being brave and trying new things is part of growing up. Admitting fear, even over small things that no one else thinks are scary, and risking failure in front of friends, is learning to be a man. Accepting help is often all it takes to push through the fear to the fun. As Erwin McManus wrote, “You can’t just sit back and hope that the life you long for will simply come to you.” (Wide Awake)

Oh, and by the way, I have considered buying some official board shorts to signify my new status as a surfer. Any suggestions? This is all new to me.

“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

Ocean Waves

by Berry Simpson

There I was sitting on the porch, facing south, elevated about the second-floor level (the entire house was elevated with parking underneath), watching the ocean waves come in to the tiny neighborhood beach, named Baby Beach. We got up about 5:45 AM, which seems preposterous being on vacation and all, but the jet lag still had us in its clutches and the house was all windows and the rising sun was very bright.

The rhythm of the waves crashing into the beach was hypnotic - a cliché’, but true - every wave sounded different from those before and after, yet they all sounded just alike. The earth’s meditative breathing. Add the breeze blowing through palm trees and the result was captivating and peaceful. It’s easy to see how someone could get trapped all day listening to this siren song.

There on the porch I read in my Daily Bible about the fall of Israel to Assyria, and how the disaster and preceding three-year siege wasn’t really about Assyria at all. It was about Israel’s willful disobedience that lasted generation after generation. God simply used the Assyrians because they happened to be conveniently located and timely powerful.

To be honest, I was actually hoping for something a little lighter on this fine Hawaiian morning. With coffee in hand, ocean waves in view, surrounded by the smells and sounds of Poipu, Kauai, it seemed to be the wrong story. Why couldn’t my daily reading have been from Psalms, about how wonderful God is and how his loving hand is so obvious in nature on mornings like this? Or even Isaiah 51:15 (“For I am the Lord your God, who churns up the sea so that its waves roar”). Why not that? Wouldn’t that have been more appropriate, more beneficial?

But in my peaceful bliss of the morning I saw how easy it could be to be lulled into complacency by the view and the experience, never moving all day, like being trapped in an endless Jimmy Buffett song, life drifting away. It was easy to imagine how the people of Israel could be so caught up in the rhythm their military successes, financial victories, put to sleep by their own soothing sounds, and convincing themselves they were just fine, thank you. All this success was to their own credit and they didn’t need God after all, until it was all over.

I once heard a motivational speaker, Jim Rohn, say, “Casual living breeds casualties.” He didn’t mean we could never be casual, never wear shorts and flip-flops. And he didn’t mean we should never be captured by the Pacific Ocean waves. He meant that if we don’t take the path of our life seriously there will come a time when the Assyrian army is at our gate and we will have lost our last chance.

Well, back on the porch, Cyndi woke me up from my (as she once called it) meditating and stuff. We walked down to the Spouting Horn with Patti and Katie. I’d had enough casual relaxing; time for serious shopping.

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

Journal entry 071912: Ocean Waves 

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

Is Getting Lost Part of the Adventure?

Getting lost while driving is a different sort of problem nowadays because of smart phones. It’s easier to recover.

Cyndi and I recently spent a weekend being lost while driving in Santa Fe, which some would say is a redundant statement, but it wasn’t so bad.  No matter where we were, we could pull over, input the destination address, and the mapping ap would plot a solution for driving. It even provided alternate routes, as if we had enough local knowledge to make an informed choice. And you know what? Getting lost isn’t so bad if you are with someone you love who doesn’t argue.

Our second morning in Santa Fe, while driving to Cyndi’s workshop, we missed an obscure “Y” in the road and ended up about 90-degrees off prime. We ended up driving half way to Glorieta on I-25 North (which, of course, goes south) before doubling back to the correct location. I think Cyndi was the last attendee to arrive. The gate tender was standing in the road waiting for us.

The disadvantage of using a phone to navigate is you only get a small detailed picture of where you are and where you are going. Most of the time I need a wider view of life than my phone screen offers. Another disadvantage is that only the navigator can see the map. It’s too small for both driver and navigator to follow.

So after delivering Cyndi to her workshop I found a place to camp out and enjoy Sunday morning coffee and newspapers. I unfolded my large analog city map and retraced our morning routes, including wrong turns and missed opportunities, and figured out where we went wrong and how we recovered. I felt much better about the entire experience once I had it in my head.

I wonder why no one has invented a “Where Did I Go Wrong” phone ap that retraces the previous hour’s driving and deconstructs exactly how the driver got off-track. With an ap like that I could identify the first error that cascaded into deep lostness.

Even better, maybe the paid version of the ap could point out where I first went wrong on my last job, or most recent blunder with Cyndi, or even identify the bad assumption I used that cascaded into an intractable mess. That would be worth $9.99.

However, looking over past mistakes is only useful when plotting a future course. Going forward, I am a wide-angle view kind of guy. I need to see a bigger picture before drawing conclusions. I need a large-scale paper map alongside my phone to really do my best.

Unlike Cyndi, I am not a kinesthetic learner. I will never understand a place simply by driving around. I need a mental picture of the roads and how they relate to each other, and the sooner I use a map during my exploring phase, the quicker I get the image of the layout, and the better I understand the city.

And, just being honest here, I also need maps to understand relationships, or theology, or history, or marathon training, or whatever. My mind needs as much data as possible before zooming down to the detail level. In fact, I can’t grasp which details are important until I have them all in front of me.

There have been occasions when Cyndi and I worked together to lead a workshop and our opposing styles for preparation clashed. Cyndi, being a professional teacher, can go from abstract to concrete almost immediately. Once she senses the core of a lesson, she relentlessly pursues the final result and cranks it out quickly. For Cyndi, the work comes after she knows her destination.

Not me. I never know the final target of a lesson, or an essay, or a speech, or a workshop, or even a book, until I pile all the available data on the table and start sifting. For me, the destination comes only after I do the work.

So we are leaving for a vacation this weekend, maybe our first pure vacation in ten years, to Kauai, and I don’t think I have a good road map yet. I have a spreadsheet mapping out our days, but I have no confidence for driving. Fortunately, we are traveling with great friends, so it will be OK if we get lost together. It just adds to of the adventure.

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

Journal entry 070512: Is Getting Lost Part of the Adventure?

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

Warrior scholar

“Berry, what are you doing?” Cyndi asked.

I was quite surprised that she wasn’t asleep already since she’d been horizontal for a good thirty seconds.

“I’m reading my book. I want to get in another chapter before going to sleep.”

“Why are you holding the bug zapper?”

“I want to get rid of that irritating housefly that keeps strafing my head.”

It was at this point in the evening when trouble started. Cyndi was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe.

“You look so funny lying there, book in one hand, bug zapper in the other,” she said.

“Just think of me as a warrior-scholar.”

“Ooh, a warrior-scholar?”

“Well, I am reading Quantum Man, about particle physicist Richard Feynman. The book is good and fun to read but almost all of the physics is way over my head. I have no idea what they are talking about most of the time, so it makes me feel very scholarly.”

“So what about the warrior part? You are holding a plastic bug zapper.”

“Well, this is not a toy. This is serious bug-zapping technology. I am making your life, and your side of the bed, safer and more comfortable, by going into combat for you.”

“A real warrior. Wow.”

“Remember that time at the ranch when I killed hundreds of wasps with a vacuum cleaner? This zapper would have been even better?”

“Easier?”

“Well, not easier, but more satisfying.”

Then she said, “This reminds me of the time when you were drinking ice water out of a coffee pot while reading your book. I still can’t get that image out of my mind.”

“I had to drink out of the coffee pot because the hotel room only had flimsy little plastic cups. They were worthless. And I had just run four miles in 90-degree heat. I needed to rehydrate.”

"I can just picture you sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, reading your book, and drinking ice-water out of a coffee pot. Why didn't you just drink out of the ice bucket?"

"Because the ice bucket was too big to hold with one hand."

Once again, Cyndi was too proud of my ingenuity to speak. She just held her sides with both arms and laughed and laughed. After about five minutes I interrupted her and asked, "Why are you still laughing about something that happened in Farmington, New Mexico, in 1998?"

“Seeing you in bed holding your book and the bug zapper at the same time reminded me.”

“Well, you’re laughing so hard you’re shaking the bed. This book is hard enough to read without all the bouncing.”

“So what happens to the housefly when you zap it? Will it fall into the bed? Will the flaming bug parts set our bed on fire?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe I should get the fire extinguisher just in case. The instructions did say that not only do you get rid of the fly, you get a satisfying poof of smoke.”

So, if Cyndi appeared more tired than usual last Friday, it wasn’t my fault. No matter what she may’ve said. She just wouldn’t go to sleep.

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

Journal Entry 022812: Warrior scholar

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