Standing Firm

Have you ever asked yourself, “Who do I want to be like?” I was flying on Southwest Airlines from Dallas to St. Louis, then to Detroit, for a Noble Heart calling workshop, when I read this in my Daily Bible, from 1 Chronicles 5:24 … “These were the heads of their families: Epher, Ishi, Eliel, Azriel, Jeremiah, Hodaviah and Jahdiel. They were brave warriors, famous men, and heads of their families.”

I don’t normally spend much time reading Bible genealogies, I usually race through them, but since my purpose for attending the workshop was to move further into my role as a man for God, this particular list caught my eye. Who doesn’t want to be like these men?

“They were brave warriors.” Well, I want to be a brave warrior, knowing when it’s my moment to stand up to the enemy.

“They were … famous men.” I’ll admit, I’d like to be famous, too. Last year I received a public service award from the International Society of Petroleum Engineers, for my time in city government and community projects. To receive worldwide recognition in front of so many nationalities and languages, and in front of Cyndi, was great. My tiny bit of being famous felt good.

“They were … heads of their families.” Well, I’ve been a husband for almost 34 years, and a dad for almost 33 years, so I can’t avoid this. However, in the context of this passage, it means more than husband and dad, it means patriarch. And to be honest, while I certainly haven’t sought this position out, I can see it happening more and more with each passing year. And not only one of the heads of my own family, but Cyndi likes to remind me, one of the heads of our church and community. I’m OK with that. I don’t necessarily want to be the one in charge, but I definitely want to influence the outcomes.

Here’s the problem with those men from 1 Chronicles 24 – their standing was trumped by what it says in the next verse, 25 ... “But they were unfaithful to the God of their ancestors and prostituted themselves to the gods of the peoples of the land, whom God had destroyed before them.”

It’s too bad. Men who could’ve changed the world for good wasted their turn by being unfaithful to God. And not that they just drifted away from God, but they actively gave themselves over - “prostituted themselves” - to the gods of the world, even gods they knew had been defeated.

It happens too many times. Good men in leadership positions, even influential spiritual leaders, twist off, start believing their own press clippings, and sell out completely to the god of this world. It’s tragic.

So finishing my flight to Michigan I wondered, how do we keep this from happening to us?

And then, curiously enough, the very next morning while drinking coffee on the porch at Sam’s house, I read this from Isaiah 7:3-9 (God was giving instructions to Isaiah to be passed along to King Ahaz before a battle): “Say to him, “Be careful, keep calm and don’t be afraid. Do not lose heart because of these two smoldering stubs of firewood.”” (The two attacking kings).

Here are the words we need to remember, the charge God gave to Ahaz, “I’ve got this, you are in my hands, don’t lose heart just because your enemies appear scary on the outside.”

But God also tells him, “Be careful.”

Those are good words. Just because we know God is with us is not time to be stupid, arrogant, or brash. We have to be careful. Take care. Think about what we do. Think about what we believe and who we listen to.

Later, still in Isaiah 7, God goes on to say, “If you do not stand firm in your faith, you will not stand at all.”

And there is the main point – if you don’t stand firm in your faith, it matters very little what else you do. In fact, you won’t stand at all.

So “be careful” means more than not making a stupid mistake in combat, or putting on armor and taking up weapons. Be careful means to stand firm in the faith.

Few people leave faith all at once, as an act of independence or defiance. More people simply drift away, a bit at a time, forgetting what matters, until one day it is gone, they are gone too far away to want to come back. In order for that NOT to happen we have to stay engaged. We have to be careful. We have to take care.

McMannus says, “God does not reject the sinful. He rejects the arrogant.” Being arrogant is the opposite of this passage. It is leaning on self and smarts and skill, not God.

So back to my opening question – Who do you want to be like?

Be like the one who is brave, famous, influential, careful, and who stands firm in the faith.

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

Find me at http://berrysimpson.com and learn more about my books. Or find me at  http://twitter.com/berrysimpson and at http://www.facebook.com/BerrySimpsonAuthor

When it's Time to Step Forward

One morning I read from Joshua 1, when God said to Joshua, “Moses my servant is dead. Now then you …” For some reason, what caught my attention that morning was how quickly the situation changed for Joshua. Maybe it was because I was going through a job transition of my own, but the suddenness of Joshua’s promotion surprised me. He went from assistant, to leader, just like that, between sentences. As in, “The king is dead, long live the king.”

As in Tom Clancy’s novel, Debt of Honor, when the Japanese pilot crashed a jet liner into a joint session of congress, killing the President and most of the Cabinet, Supreme Court, Congressmen, and Senators. Vice-President Jack Ryan was in the basement of the Capital, and when the Secret Service agent got a phone call, he switched, in mid-sentence, from calling Ryan Mr. Vice-President, to Mr. President.  Just like that.

As In Lyndon Johnson becoming President of the United States the moment the doctors pronounced John Kennedy dead. Swearing in, while important, was a formality. Johnson was  automatically promoted to president in that instant, just like that.

As in, Moses is gone; now then you.

At least Joshua had time to prepare for this transition. He knew God had already appointed him successor to Moses, and he knew Moses was about to die, so it wasn’t a total surprise.

Still. Transitions always surprise us. The speed of the moment, when it finally happens, can be too fast and too much to comprehend. Even when, like Joshua, we know it’s coming, we aren’t completely ready.

Back in 1995 I thought I was ready for city government. That is, until my first City Council meeting and my first agenda item requiring a vote. Not a secret ballot, but a raise-my-hand-in-front-of-the-entire-world vote. In an instant I realized I was over my head, voting on important issues I knew very little about. I was not ready.

Another example. In 2004 I was not ready to lead a men’s ministry. In fact, it was the last thing I had in mind. But I agreed to teach one class, which much to my surprise kept going, and going, and going, and it still continues to this day, almost ten years later. The thing I did right was this: I didn’t let being not ready keep me from jumping in, even though I had no idea what I was jumping into.

A few weeks ago, Cyndi lost one of her most important relationships when her Aunt Teena Atchley lost her war with cancer. For twenty years Cyndi spent Tuesday mornings having tea with Teena, talking about life and family and Jesus, and absorbing each other’s life.

I told Cyndi, “You are Aunt Teena, now. Find someone who likes tea. I wonder who they are.”

So many times we are called to step forward into leadership roles long before we think it is our turn. It happens just like that, before we think we are ready.

So many times God gives us what we want, even what we’ve been looking forward to, but we won’t step forward because we don’t have the courage or the faith. Or because we don’t have a clear picture of the finished product and we are afraid of uncertainty and ambiguity.

When Joshua’s moment came, he could have balked, said no, or simply faded away over the horizon, but he didn’t hesitate. He did what Bob Goff recommends, he cannonballed into the moment.

And so, when our moments come, what should we do? Like Joshua, cannonball into the moment. Be strong and courageous. Take the step forward.

As John Acuff wrote, “Ready doesn’t exist.” So know this: if we want to change the world, we won’t be ready. We have to just jump in, just like that.

When is it time to step forward? Sooner than you think.

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

Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Mystery and Clarity

By the time Cyndi got home from Mansfield, where she attended our daughter’s baby shower, as well as returning our granddaughter to her rightful owners after a fun-filled week at Grand and Pop’s house, it was about 9:00 PM Sunday night. Unfortunately, I didn’t feel well. I had deep chills and had to concentrate not to shiver in front of Cyndi. And my joints were beginning to ache. I felt way too bad to enjoy my reunion with Cyndi in the way I’d been hoping for all day.

And it was my birthday. It didn’t seem fair.

Cyndi said my skin was almost too hot to touch (another problem in my planned reunion), even as I huddled under the covers to stay warm. She was grabbing for cool, free air. It was a complete role reversal for us.

I doubt I slept more than 30% of the night, although they say you always get more sleep than you think you do, even among all the tossing and turning. All night long I wondered what was happening to me. Was I getting sick? I had weekend plans to attend a retreat in Michigan, something I’d been looking forward to for weeks. Surely I wouldn’t get sick.

Monday morning as I was dressing for work, I remembered the last time this happened, in September 2003.

On that occasion the problem began when I was out running one Tuesday evening. I could feel my heart pounding and a tight pressure in my chest. It was scary. Later, when I met Cyndi at Rosa’s for dinner, I couldn’t eat because I was so worried. I didn’t know how to tell her what I was feeling since I’d rather die of a heart attack than let her think I was a hypochondriac.

I slept fretfully all night, and whenever I woke up, all I could think about was spiritual attack, as if God was warning me there was more to this. I was headed to Colorado to attend a Boot Camp, where I fully expected to meet with God. I didn’t want to be sick or hurting.

And now, ten years later, the story felt all too familiar. Was this another spiritual attack? Do they always come like this?

I don’t know enough about spiritual warfare to answer a question like that. But I do believe there will be more mystery and uncertainty on my pilgrimage than I expected in my early years.

There is a great story in John 9 about mystery and clarity, about Jesus and a man who had been blind since birth. Jesus healed this man, but He did it in a very unchurchy, undignified way. He spit on the ground to made mud, and put that mud on the man’s eyes.

I don’t think Jesus politely smeared a faint brown smudge across the man’s eyelids, I think Jesus made a handful of mud and put a gob of it right on the man’s face. That takes a lot of spit, and it must have been a shocking sight to see. I wonder why no one ever painted a picture of Jesus spitting on the ground to make mud?

But the man was blind, so he didn’t know about the spit or the mud. Also, He trusted Jesus completely. How do I know this? Because of what he did next. Jesus told him to go to the pool of Siloam and wash his face, and the man did it. He just did it without questioning. He was still blind, his prayers had not been answered, but he followed Jesus’ instructions.

Erwin McManus (Seizing Your Divine Moment) wrote, “When Jesus commanded the man to go to the pool to wash, to leave with his prayers unfulfilled, with his needs unmet, with his questions unanswered, in many ways he left in a worse condition than before. He was a blind man with mud caked on his face moving further away from the only One who could help him. If he had refused the journey, he would have lost the miracle.”

McManus asked, “How many of us are sitting in front of God with mud on our faces waiting for God to heal us? How many of us have said to God, “Heal me first, and then I’ll go”?”

I’m not the guy who sees spiritual attack behind every misfortune, and I hesitated before writing this story. I suppose I expect to skip happily along my spiritual path toward God, which means I’m always surprised when attack comes.

Maybe Jesus is sending me on a journey where things will become muddy before they become clear, where I’ll spend uncomfortable sleepless nights before finding clarity. Or maybe He simply wants me to trust Him before He heals me again.

Well, two days later, I feel much better. I have my stuff packed and my journal and Bible and projects gathered. Who knows, I may get sick again, but my heart is ready and my soul is hungry.

QUESTION: Have you felt a spiritual attack before a big weekend? How did you know what it was?

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

Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Order from Chaos

“Never forget that your vocation is a sacred one.” I read that sentence in Ian Morgan Cron’s novel, Chasing Francis – A Pilgrim’s Tale. It was from a conversation in which Liam was trying to convince Carla, a world-class cellist, that not only was her profession noble and worthy, but it pointed people toward God.

But what happened to me when I read that sentence is something that happens often - I end up reading my own personal story instead of the story in the book. In this case, what I read was “Berry, never forget that engineering is a sacred vocation.”

I stopped reading, grabbed a pen, and started scribbling in the margin of my book. (I’ve learned to act quickly when I receive ideas like that.)

I have always thought of the writing and teaching and mentoring part of my life as sacred. After all, those are the primary ways I tell the stories of Jesus and his Gospel. But I didn’t think of engineering that way. I saw it as merely the funding source for the sacred parts of my life.

So while reading Chasing Francis, it occurred to me, maybe the sacred part, is bigger than I thought.

Before retreating to my book that evening, I had been working on a project identifying a collection of pictures that I hoped would capture my own life message and purpose. It was for a workshop retreat I would attend the end of June. I used a couple of my own photos, but the majority came from a random image presenter that I found online. One of the images I found showed a flat cable of wires (like an old hard drive connector) that became unraveled and wild. Only I saw it as a mixed up mess that came together into a useful and recognizable pattern.

When I showed the image to Cyndi, it was her favorite. She said, “That’s what you do all the time, you bring order out of chaos.”

So when I read the sentence from Chasing Francis about sacred vocations, I still had order and chaos on my mind, and when I started scribbling in the margin of my book, it all came together. As it does.

My life as a writer, teacher, and an engineer are not so different as I’d thought. I bring order out of chaos. I bring meaning out of scattered data, whether from the Bible, or movies, or books, or running, or oil production plots, or wellbore histories.

It was a big insight for me. My vocation is sacred. Just as sacred as my ministry. In fact, it is ALL ministry.

I’ve known from the beginning of my career that writing made me a better engineer. I could never sell a project to management if I didn’t tell the story well, and I could write the story better than most.

What I didn’t understand until last night was how much my engineering mind has made me a better writer. I write better because I solve problems for a living.

Here’s the truth. For decades I’ve dreamed that one day I would be so successful as a writer I wouldn’t have to work as an engineer any longer.

However, in the past couple of years, I’ve seen how quickly I run out of ideas if all I do is write. For some reason I need to interact with people to have new thoughts. Cyndi once told me, “Berry, sitting around and writing is not enough for you. You need to be solving problems for people or you won’t be happy.” She’s a smart girl.

It turns out – it’s all sacred, and it’s all bigger than I thought. I should’ve known this already. What I read the other night wasn’t my first hint.

Once, in 2008, on a cold May night in Colorado, God gave me a clear message about calling, and my response was to repeat over and over, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how big it is.” At the time I thought that meant I had underestimated the effect of writing by focusing too much on book sales. Now I think God may have been telling me “it” was broader than I thought.

So, I have been thinking about life themes (one of those projects writers cannot leave alone), and now I wonder if “Order from Chaos” is the biggest part of mine. Maybe my purpose has never been writing or teaching or mentoring or engineering, but bringing order from chaos in whatever form that may be.

I’ll have to keep working on this idea. If you have any similar thoughts, let me know. I need more input.

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

 Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Things I Noticed

Here’s one thing I’ve noticed. Whenever my wife Cyndi talked about her Aunt Teena, her eyes lit up and she smiled. How could I not notice something like that? Aunt Teena (Ruby Forrestine Atchley) lived in Odessa for the past twenty-five years, about twenty minutes from our house in Midland. We made the trip back-and-forth often for birthday meals and celebratory BBQ dinners at the Rockin’ Q. For almost all of those twenty five years we were the nearest family either of us had.

And for twenty of those years (TWENTY YEARS!), Teena and Cyndi met every Tuesday morning at 5:30 AM to share a cup of tea, pray together, and talk about life and school and family. I happen to know that sometimes they prayed for me. It is a powerful thing to know someone is praying for you by name. Teena was one of Cyndi’s biggest spiritual anchors and a significant contributor to the strong woman Cyndi is today.

One of my favorite things about Cyndi is when we talk at length and in depth about spiritual things, about ministry to couples and men, and retreats and sermons and podcasts, and about music. I’m glad we have that sort of relationship. And that is why I know that Teena was one of two women who became major influences in Cyndi’s life. That also means she was a big influence in my life as well.

How could I not notice and appreciate that? Anyone who makes the love of my life stronger and deeper and more grace-full does me a favor.

Teena once gave me a hand-made birthday card, and on the cover she had drawn a Menger Sponge. It was amazing. A Menger sponge is a three-dimensional fractal curve that simultaneously exhibits an infinite surface area and encloses zero volume. She had heard me describe a math book I’d just read and she witnessed my excitement when trying to explain something so mysterious and cool, and she made a card just for me. It’s the only hand-drawn fractal curve birthday card I ever received. I still have it in my collection at home.

I tell that story because it made me happy the way Teena engaged me in my own obscure theories and wild ideas. She would just smile and listen to me go on and on, and grin at Cyndi, and know that somehow it was all related to my search for God.

How could I not notice someone like that?

During the past months Teena was battling her second round with cancer. She survived her first round and seemed to be doing well, but this second hit took her down. She was miserable most of the time. I only know that because she told Cyndi, not from observing Teena. She always smiled at me and shared the grace of the moment, no matter how bad she felt.

I knew when Teena asked Cyndi for help, to take her to the doctor, or even to drive her to Las Cruces, NM, for special cancer treatment, it was a big deal. This is not a family known for asking help. They like to do things themselves, their own way. (Maybe that’s why I fit in so well.) When she asked Cyndi for help, she was sharing her life once again, and there was grace even in that.

I never resented the time Cyndi spent with Teena in Las Cruces, or wherever, because I knew any time with Teena made Cyndi stronger.

Here is what I know. My own life is richer because of Teena's influence on my wife, Cyndi. My understanding of God is deeper and my grasp of grace is firmer because Cyndi spent so much time with Teena.

How could anyone not notice a gift as great as that.

Teena didn’t care about Menger Sponges, but she cared about me. Thanks Teena. I am a better man, and a more consistent follower of Christ, because of you.

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

Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Does This Help?

I sat on the edge of the examining chair and held out my right arm, palm facing up, while the fine gentleman nurse put the blood pressure cuff around my arm and pushed the start button. As he watched the numbers climb, he asked,“What do you think - up or down?” “Well, I feel good,” I replied. “Maybe it’ll be lower this time.”

“Why do you say that? You’ve been coming here for treatment every Monday for a month-and-a-half. You aren’t nervous, are you?”

“Well, not so nervous since you don’t have the scary pictures on the wall.”

The Wound Management Center at Midland Memorial Hospital recently moved around the corner to a new set of rooms, which means they haven’t found places for everything yet, which means they haven’t hung the poster with photos of scary diabetic ankle sores, which means, I’m sure, my blood pressure and heart rate will be lower since I won’t be worrying about my ankles.

I told the nurse, “if I keep coming back long enough you’ll have me convinced my ankle looks like that.”

I am always amazed at what a doctor puts on the walls of an examining room. You would think it would be pictures of people living healthy lives, or beautiful scenery, or those warm family-friendly paintings everyone loves. It seems those would be more conducive to the healing process, a goal to move toward.

But maybe what they have in mind is closing the sale, convincing the visitor there is really something wrong with them so they will feel good about their visit. “Oh look, I have that, and that, and that, wrong with me. Good thing I came to the doctor, today.”

I have a friend who is an “eyeball doctor” (his terminology) and one time I went to his office and he had photos of sick and diseased eyes. I once told him, “This makes my eyes all watery just looking at these photos.”

Another time, about ten years ago, I was in my doctor’s office for, you guessed it, to have my blood pressure checked and recorded (a reoccurring theme it seems), when I noticed an old Time Magazine on the counter. Well, it wasn’t old by doctor’s office standards, but old for you and me. And on the cover was a photo of Charles Manson and his haunting eyes. He is still scary, even in a grainy photograph, even after all these years.

“I don’t think it is a good idea to leave Charles Manson laying around the room while you’re checking blood pressure. I am sure that photo alone is worth 10-15 points,” I said.

“At least we don’t have Helter Skelter playing over the sound system,” said the nurse who was too young to have owned the White Album.

Much to my surprise, my blood pressure was better in spite of the Charles Manson effect. Maybe the scary pictures on the wall and on the magazine actually comfort patients rather than frighten them. Patients think, “Well, at least I am not that bad.”

I am in the middle of teaching the Old Testament book of Job in our young adult Bible study class, and one thing you notice when reading Job is how much bad advice and unhelpful counsel there is. Causes me to wonder, how often do I think I’m helping someone when actually doing the opposite? Do I have any scary pictures on my wall that it’s time to take down?

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

Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Hard to Write About

I’ve been working on a commissioned article for LifeWay’s Deacon Magazine, about serving in city government. It hasn’t been easy. For some reason, I’ve always resisted writing about my government days. And even when I tried, it’s been a struggle. The piece for Lifeway, for instance, went through at least two dozen iterations before I simply had to send it in to meet deadline. Yet, I can write about running a marathon or dancing with Cyndi or playing with my granddaughter in an instant. Why is writing about government so hard?

I don’t know.

Serving on the Midland City Council dominated my thoughts and my time for twelve years so you’d think I would have plenty to write about. Reading through some of my old journals preparing for the magazine piece stirred up a few painful memories that were so fresh I had to put it all down and go walk around the park to clear my head.

But in fact, the painful moments in government were rare. During the years I served we did some great things that made life better for thousands of people. We rebuilt neighborhoods, created parks, and countless other projects only government is willing to do, and I’ll always be ready to brag about those projects.

So, again, why has writing about government and politics been so hard for me?

I suppose I’ve been wary about using my writer’s insights to tell government stories. I was afraid it might cheapen my other writing, my spiritual writing. Even as a teacher I have been overly-cautious, according to some, about mentioning politics or encouraging a particular political message. I remember something my former pastor, Dr. James Denison, once said, “When pastors combine preaching with politics, politics eventually takes over every time.” I have been so concerned about that happening to me I’ve intentionally avoided any political discussion or writing unless I see a joke.

And I never wanted to limit my readers to people who agreed with my politics. I think the evangelical church has alienated too many people from the Gospel of Jesus by aligning itself so closely with one wing of one political party. The harder we preach a political viewpoint the more people we scare away from Jesus. Shame on us.

So, hoping to avoid scaring people away, I’ve avoided political writing. I need all the readers I can get; I don’t want to frighten any away.

I think another reason I’ve avoided writing about government and politics is that it’s hard to tell stories without putting myself on the moral high ground and painting my opponents as evil. Almost all of the people I met while in government were honest and sincere, and even when we disagreed over difficult decisions I could trust them to be true to what they believed. I’ll admit I knew a couple of council members who cared only for their own interests and fame, but they were the exceptions, not the rule.

I suppose another reason I avoided writing about government was, well, it’s hard to tell the story accurately. Success in handling community issues often hinges on the subtlest of points, and writing about nuanced decisions sounds flaky. And it is boring.

But maybe the real reason I never wrote much about government or politics was that it wasn’t the biggest story I had to tell. Political arguments, which results from almost all political writing, tends to drown out all reasonable discussion and creative thinking, and I didn’t want to spend my time fighting. I’d rather write about something else. I’d rather find a spiritual insight in a long run, or a cycling crash, or a family wedding.

So how about you? What stories are hard for you to tell?

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

Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Talk About Weddings

I want to go on record as saying this: Getting married was the best decision I ever made and the smartest thing I ever did. I know I’ve written this before, and maybe you’re tired of reading it, but we just attended a wedding and they always put me to thinking about marriage. In this case it was a family wedding. Kelli Goodan, the daughter of Cyndi’s cousin, married Mark Alvord, near Las Cruces, New Mexico. The ceremony took place outside under clear blue skies, the stunning Organ Mountains in the background, and with lots of boots and hats and blue jeans and cowboy vests. And, of course, there was dancing. Fun family dancing: Cousins dancing with cousins, uncles with nieces, grandmothers with grandsons, and fathers with daughters.

I will confess two things: (1) I have grown to love this sort of family gathering, and (2) I never danced a step until I married into this family. Some astute observers might add that what I do now shouldn’t be considered actual dancing, but I know where the beat is and I know how to pick partners that make me look like I know what I’m doing.

I suppose I shouldn’t pretend to write about a wedding while really writing about dancing, but in this case, the dancing and mingling and story-swapping during the reception defined and described this large family more than the simple wedding ceremony itself. And it is more representative of what kind of future is available to this young couple.

Anne Lamotte wrote: “That’s what’s so touching about weddings: Two people fall in love, and decide to see if their love might stand up over time, if there might be enough grace and forgiveness and memory lapses to help the whole shebang hang together.”

The fact is, I didn’t understand weddings when Cyndi and I got married. What guy does? We are in over our head from the moment we get engaged. Few guys spend time thinking about what their wedding will be like some day. I’ve never even seen a copy of Groom Magazine. We don’t dream about tuxes or favorite colors, or how many children we should have, or any of that important stuff. Men are simply out of our league when it comes to weddings.

But I realized after we got married how important it was to my family. And I don’t mean it was important to make the relationship legal and acceptable. A wedding gives a family the chance to tell their story, show the sort of people they are, and endorse the kids who’ve grown up into fine young adults.

By the time our own daughter got married I had a better understanding of it all. I wanted Katie and Drew to know Cyndi and I were proud of them, that we were giving our public blessing to their marriage, that we were standing up in front of all our friends and family and saying, “Check out our kids … aren’t they great!”

Getting married is a commitment to learn each other, to learn each other’s stories, to learn each other’s families. Weddings are about joy and hope and the future. No one gets married unless they believe there is a better future being together.

And another thing about weddings that I’ve learned to appreciate: they’re a reminder that I’m not the analytical creature I’ve pretended to be all these years. The most important decisions of my life, to follow Jesus, to learn Cyndi, had nothing to do with logic or analysis. They were decisions of my heart, not my head. They were decisions to learn their stories, to join their people, to become one of them.

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

Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Live Music

There is always something else to look forward to, even in paradise, even in Hawaii. All Wednesday morning I had looked forward to our afternoon trip to the Kukui’ula Shopping Center for their weekly outdoor produce market and art show. It’s true, I seldom look forward to more shopping, but this was different. I was hoping John Rivera would be playing in the market. We heard him last summer, and I bought one of his CDs. In fact, I used his cover of Harry Nilsson’s song, Echoes of my Mind, on my 2012 Love Song Collection. Since I was still in love with the same girl, I wanted to hear some more of his music.

I have to admit that Rivera is only one of many fine Hawaiian musicians, but having heard him play live last July gave me a sense of ownership,  like he was my guy. And besides, live music moves my soul. I would rather sit and listen to music than do much anything else. Even music that I don’t really like, that isn’t my style or taste, is better when performed live. Especially in an open-air market next to the Pie Lady’s table.

So while we were standing in line for our pie, Rivera played and sang, I’m Yours, by Jason Mraz, (which I used on my 2009 Love Song Collection) and I could hardly stand still with Cyndi so close. Lucky for her, I suppose, this was a crowded public venue and I felt restrained.

I tweeted: “Everything is better while listening to live music. Everything. My heart is happy and full and in love. And, I’m eating Macadamia Nut Pie.”

While we were eating our pie, a little girl ran over in front of the musicians and started waving her arms and dancing to the music. She wore a giant smile on her face, she radiated joy, and she kept dancing for a long time. Her parents even seemed a little surprised at her reaction.

I tweeted: “I hope I can live my life with the hope and joy of this little girl dancing to music at the farmer’s market.”

Well, this week, while working on this Journal, I asked myself: Why does music matter?

I actually Googled the question, but all the discussions were long, wordy, and boring. Not one of the answers had that swing, which means, of course, they don’t mean a thing.

We have a friend whose entire life revolves around music, yet, it isn’t obvious that they get any joy from it. As if it is a duty instead of a delight. Like those definitions I found with Google - way too clinical. Maybe they just need more macadamia pie.

Why am I writing about music? This week I started listening to my big playlist of love songs, those I haven’t yet put in a collection, about 120 songs, intending to find 19 or 20 for my 34^th Anniversary Commemorative Love Song Collection due July 28. I will be swimming in love songs and tweeting lyrics for the next few weeks. If you have any song suggestions for me, now is the time to send them.

And remember to keep following the advice generously given by the Doobie Brothers - Listen to the music.

QUESTION: Why does music matter?

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

Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson

Is It Time For a Fresh Start?

Monday morning my laptop disavowed its own touchpad and I had to borrow a mouse from Cyndi. (It was purple, with flowers, very girly.) Next, my laptop refused to recognize either of the two wireless networks in our house. It was an unsettling trend. What might fail next? I turned the laptop over, pulled the battery out for five minutes to give the electrons time to stop spinning, reinstalled the battery, rebooted, and everything worked. All it needed was a fresh start.

And so I’ve been wondering about that myself these past weeks. Do I need a fresh start?

Several friends have commented about my recent bike crash and my perpetually bad knees, and the comments go like this: “Maybe God is telling you to take up something else. Is it time to move on from running and cycling?”

I was asking myself that same question a few years ago, in 2008 to be precise, when I ran the Austin Half-Marathon.

My training had been marginal, more walking than running, and not much of that, because my knee was still sore. Too much body mass and too little running made it hard to motivate myself to hit the roads every day. Yet, I wanted my love of running back. I wasn’t ready to put that phase of life behind me.

I knew the half-marathon would either make me hungry for more, or tell me it was time to move on to something else. Would I step in or step out? Would I say, “I’ll never do that again,” or say, “When is the next race?”

And now, five years later, I’m wondering the same thing.

I’m currently under the care of Midland Memorial Hospital’s Wound Management Specialists - a lingering effect from the bike crash on March 4^th - and they won’t let me do much of anything until I’m healed.

It’s OK. I am more than willing to stay away from running or cycling or hiking or backpacking or yard work or manual labor in order to let this wound heal, but at the same time I am ready to get back as soon as possible. I am hungry to move.

The question of fresh starts is bigger than running or cycling, wounds or arthritis. I don’t want to squander my life holding on too long to something I should leave behind. How do we know if we’re bravely hanging on or merely being delusional? It isn’t always easy to know the difference.

So one morning this week I read this from Psalm 20, “May He give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed.” (Ps 20:4 NIV)

I saw in the margin of my Bible where each year I had written the desires of my heart in response to this promise. However, I also noticed my desires kept changing. I held on to some, let go of others. How could God give me my desires and make my plans succeed if I kept starting over again and again?

But my core desire stayed constant: I want to impact the lives of people. My heart hadn’t actually changed; it just takes a life time of digging to uncover desires from all the debris thrown up by daily life.

Later that same day, after reading Psalm 20 and praying for insight into fresh starts, I received two clues about the true desire of my heart:

I was listening to an audio book by Rich Roll, titled Finding Ultra, about how he turned around his life after discovering ultra-endurance sports. He described an epic endurance event in which he and a friend decided to do five Iron Men-length events in five days, each on a different Hawaiian Island. His description of the effort was brutal, but the more he talked about his suffering, the more I wished I could do it, too. I realized that was an indicator of my own heart, that it has many more miles in it. Rather than think Roll was crazy, my heart wanted to be with him.

And then I saw some photos of another local cyclist who crashed while riding in the Texas Hill Country, and his injuries looked significantly worse than mine. Again, rather than scaring me away from cycling, I couldn’t wait to get back on the saddle.

I suppose I have a life-time of fresh starts still ahead of me, but for now the one I’m most looking forward to is moving down the road again. I can hardly wait to get started. In fact, I’ve already started planning future races.

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

 Find me at www.berrysimpson.com, or www.twitter.com/berrysimpson, or http://www.facebook.com/berry.simpson