Agony and Ecstasy

Most of you know I like to bicycle. It is a little more than a hobby. It is my outlet for all things athletic. Anyway, there is a ride in the valley affectionately called "The Tea Cup". It is also called the ""14 Hills Death Ride". The idea is to ride up and down every hill around the valley. There are evidently 28 roads up out of the valley. Yesterday I attempted the ride with a friend who is training for an Iron Man event. The ride was a little over 87 miles and took over 5 hours. It was profoundly difficult but we made it. I am not sure why I do things like that or why I like doing things like that. I do know I spent the better part of the evening feeling sore and happy. I kept thanking God for the great gift of exercise, challenges, a bicycle, a friend to ride with, and the feeling I had just finishing. I was struck by how our faith unlike many faiths is a faith rooted in t he physical. Our God took on a physical body, lived among us, died on a solid wooden cross, and rose again with a body people could see and touch. It is in Christianity that the Spiritual kisses the Physical right where we live. So it did yesterday for me.

Humiliating Rest

Today is the 40th day of my sabbatical. These last 10 days or so I have been back to studying which has been very nice. Learning is exhilarating. Yesterday, at the end of the day, Karen made the casual observation that I had an "easy" day. She was simply commenting on the fact that my day consisted of reading, eating and my daily bike ride. She was right but I felt my mind turn in on itself and begin frantically searching for something hard about the day. I came up with nothing. It was an easy day. I didn't like the feel of it at all. I like hard. There is something about hard work or a hard day or suffering or frustration that makes me feel good about myself. Maybe it is just me and a martyr complex but I don't think so. I remember reading the command by God to sabbath. He said for us to do it because it humbles our souls. There is something about an easy day that is humbling. Pride is an animal that can feed on just about anything. Always being in crisis, always being tired, always feeling like we work hard, that we don't sleep well, that we have too much to worry about, too much responsibility...all of it food. Food for a pride that is relentless. One of the things that I have discovered during this sabbatical is the thing that never rests is my pride. So, today I am looking toward another easy day. I will read and write a little, go for my bike ride, and let the rest humble my soul.

Unless Frank Builds the House

I am adding an in-law suite to my house. My parents are moving up in September. I have watched people care for their parents in their latter years and while it seems very difficult, it seems really right. So, we are building the addition. My builder is Frank. He is in charge. As I have watched it seems like the main thing Frank knows is sequence. He also must be very good to his people because they are excellent. When I say that Frank knows sequence I mean he knows the answers to when and what. The workers come in and they do their thing. They do dry wall or plumbing or floors or framing. The key seems to be not just doing things well but doing things in the right order. Of course, this like everything else, makes me think of God. Someone really needs to know what they are doing to know sequence. So, God brings different things into our lives. Each one doing their particular work. Nothing may make much sense until close to the end. But God, like Frank, seems to know exactly what he is looking for. For Karen and me, God has decided it is time for my parents to move up and in. It will be an adjustment for all of us but what a project God is doing. It is a privilege to watch someone who knows what they are doing. It is a little like watching an artist. I am glad Frank is my builder and God is my God.

Five men and a friend

I received a call inviting me to join a group of guys to pray for one of their friends. These guys wanted to get together before their friend went in for a test to determine if his cancer had returned. It is not very often when I am invited just as one of the guys to go and pray. I went. Six of us gathered in the family room. Being a minister meant I was the only professional. But this time I was just one of the guys so I waited to see what would happen. Guys began to share what this friend meant to them and why they had come to pray. Then we bowed our heads and began to pray. We prayed for wisdom, for understanding, for courage, for healing. The prayers were sincere and they were filled with affection and concern. It was very moving. Men don't normally do much of that. I felt like I was privileged to be in the room and witness what I saw. I saw men really love each other. I saw the rare combination of humility and strength. There was something very precious in that sober moment when this friend's life hung in the balance as it were and there were 5 men who wanted to hang there with him. And they did. There are times in the life of a minister when one gets glimpses of grace and real life. Those glimpses are what a minister lives for. I am profoundly grateful for the invitation that night. Frederick Buechner said, "All the death in the world when set next to life would scarcely fill a cup". That is what I felt that night.

Rain

I sat on a porch last night and watched the rain fall. I could hear the rain coming long before it arrived. I could even smell it coming. Finally it came. Softly at first and then with strength. At one point it came in sheets almost sideways. Rain intrigues me. I love to sit on a porch in the evening and watch it come. On nights like last night it seems to bring life with it. The leaves seem to welcome the rain. The trees sway with the wind but it is the rain that makes the roots strong and the fruit sweet. Today marks the 19th year since my brother John was killed on a motorcycle at the age of 20. That day was the strongest storm I have been through to date. It was a storm I did not see coming. I did not smell it on the horizon and the strength of the wind threatened to snap me at times. But, during that storm the rain did fall. It fell nearly daily for 2 years in my soul and has been falling off and on since. I get at least a sprinkling every July 18th. Rain softens the soil. Rain makes what fruit there is sweet. Rain changes me. I love the sun but it is the rain that makes me grow. So, it is the wisdom that comes with some age that makes me pray for rain every now and then. It is trust that makes me welcome the smell of rain on the horizon and at times I even raise my eyes to the heaven and let the rain fall on my face. Rain doesn't scare me as much as when I was younger. I think it was Annie Dillard who said that every bush was aflame with the presence of God. So, as I sat on the porch last night, it was not just rain I saw but the Presence of the Lord of the rain.

Marble Heads

When I was in Florence I had the wonderful opportunity to see the sculpture of David by Michelangelo. It is situated in a hall so when you turn the corner you see it in all of it's brilliance. David stands 17 feet tall. As I walked toward the sculpture I noticed other sculptures on the side. One is stuck inside my head. It is of a man who looks as if he is trying to pull himself out of the marble. It is one of the unfinished sculptures of Michelangelo, his torso partly free, his left arm reaching up to the block of marble that should have been his head. The arm is powerfully flexed but in all the years he hadn't made a lot of progress. I was under the impression that he did it on purpose. It seems like he was showing us what he, as perhaps the greatest marble carver, could see. It was as if Michelangelo could see the man inside the marble and was knocking off what didn't belong. Anyway, it was very moving to me partly because I feel much more like the guy trying to pull his head out of stone than I feel like David. I want to be like David and of course if I can't be like David the next best thing is for people to see me like David. David stands in a magnificent pose of strength and poise. He is a man who stands with his sling (and that is about his only article of clothing) and is completely relaxed in who he is and what he can do. I, on the other hand, am much more like the poor schlepp who is trying to pull his head out of a block of rock. My only hope is the Artist knows what He sees and He hasn't finished yet. Perhaps the man in the marble has struggled long enough to do it himself and will welcome the pain of the chisel. I know I want to be free and I know my only hope lies with the One who not only holds the hammer and chisel but also knows exactly what I will look like with all the rock knocked off. So, here is a prayer for all of my fellow marble heads who long to be free. Dear Father, Do what you must. Let the hammer fall and the chips fly. We want to be set free by your grace and by your power. We do not expect it to be painless but we long to smell the dust of progress deep inside these souls that are part living and part hard and lifeless as rock. Thanks for not leaving us unfinished. Amen

Eating Work

Hi everyone. I am sorry for the long break from the blog. I really disconnected while in Italy. Disconnection is an interesting phenomenon in the 21st century. I don't know if I have experienced quite like I have the last 3 weeks. A sabbatical is for rest from work. Work is something I have always enjoyed. I have discovered it is something I eat as well. When I say that I eat work I mean that I use it to sustain myself. Work gives my life some texture. It helps me feel like I have meaning. Without work I have looked harder at the stars and the sea. I have seen things that usually pass me by. I have felt emptier than usual at times without work and fuller at times with gratitude. I am still trying to figure out what it all means. I want work to give my life some texture but I don't want to eat it. It is good every once in a while to take a break and find out how important something is to you. Maybe that is why the Bible talks so much about things like fasting. Then again, maybe fasting is to remind me that I am a dependant being under a crazy delusion that I am independant. This fasting from work starves a part of me that needs to be reminded that man doesn't live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.