Miles

Like most college students, I got a credit card shortly after arriving in college. I have used the card ever since. Earlier this year, it came to my attention that this particular card allowed me to accumulate airline miles. Unbeknownst to me, I became part of the frequent flier program and every flight and every purchase I have made contributed to my miles account. Low and behold these many years later, I have accumulated quite a pile. I called the airline to see how this whole things works.

When I was in high school Spanish class, we used to watch these Spanish soap operas called, “Destinos” to help with our education. Although I couldn’t understand much of what was said, I was really taken with Spain! My dream to see the country has never left me.

By now you should see where this is going . . .

During my annual vacation this year, my good friend from seminary and I are going to Spain courtesy of American airlines! I am so excited! We don’t know where we will go or stay. We don’t have a plan or agenda. With just a few bucks in our pocket and our backpacks strapped on, we are off on an adventure.

Psalm 8

Saturday morning, I woke up, went to Walmart and picked up the new Coldplay cd. I loaded it into the disc player and headed out.

How do you explain sorrow or define exhilaration. Endless words can be used, but in the end only an experience of the emotions will lend understanding. I will use the best words I have, but even as I write, I know they will be insufficient to describe the sights, sounds, thoughts, and feelings I experienced.

The hillsides are a riot of color. Green, orange, yellow, and red explode like fireworks all around. The blue sky yields to lazy clouds that become heavy with moisture. A single cloud fills and falls to the earth. Like dark angry fingers, the cloud unfolds visibly dropping its rain precisely in one spot.

Huge rock croppings push upward from the earth, laughing at gravity’s pull. They stand like sentries forever guarding the ancient secrets that propelled them up out of the ground. With each bend in the road, I have to will myself to breath so stunned am I by the beauty of what I am seeing. Words like: spectacular, incredible, indescribable all come to mind. I am thrilled to be alive.

Suddenly I am in the southwest. I know I didn’t sleep, but with the blink of an eye it is as if I have woken up in a different place. The soil has become red and the aspens have been replaced with low standing cedars who seem crouched against the ground, prepared for an onslaught of wind and snow. I turn off onto an unpaved road that will consume the next 35 miles of my trek.

Just as quickly as it came, the red rock of the desert west is gone. Instead the hills are littered with the black rock of magma spit forth from generations gone by. Entering into the canyon, I find myself paralleling the Colorado River. The river is in a hurry, anxious to reach its destination before the snow and ice slow its progress. In wonder, I examine the walls of this place and consider the painful work the river has completed to burrow itself so deeply into this place.

As I continue on my journey, the scene shifts again and again. The immeasurable display of God’s creativity stuns me mile by mile. In literally thousands of spots along the way, I could have simply stopped and spent the rest of the day doing nothing more than contemplating the colors, the rocks, the ravines, the river, . . .

Like the swiftly changing scenery, I find my mood has changed. Imperceptibly, I have gone from exhilaration to sorrow. I am a spectator to forces and power that are beyond my imagination, much less my control. My insignificance is being illustrated out of every window. I am hemmed in by credible evidence that my movement through the canyon means nothing to the mountain, to the river, or to the sky.

In the face of all this, I ask the Lord, “And who am I that you are mindful of me?”

As soon as I arrived in Aspen, I found myself standing outside of a little church whose Mass was about to begin. I went in and sat in the back as the Father preached: “Get over it, it’s not about you, it’s about Jesus.”

Weekend

Well, it’s the weekend. Although this is a “working weekend,” I have decided to set off for some time alone. I left Estes Park today and traveled over the Fall River Road to the western side of the park. It was slow going on the dirt road (that is closed in the winter – which begins sometime in the next week or two up here!). To say that it was beautiful is an understatement. In addition to the always present evidence of God’s imagination, the road was also a not too subtle reminder of my mortality. To say the road is slightly treacherous is to say that sticking your finger in the light socket is mildly stimulating.

I did manage to get out and hike around a bit in the upper areas of the park. It felt good to stretch my legs and I even managed to walk through little pockets of snow. For my non-Texas friends, that’s a big deal. The closest we get to snow in September is a blizzard from the DQ.

I stopped for lunch in Granby a place where Lee Brookman and I once took a helicopter ride during our summer of fun following high school graduation. The sign advertised a number of dinning options including German, American, and Mexican. Inside I found a husband and wife team whose thick German accent led me to a Brat, Sauerkraut, and some potatoes. Over a great lunch I opened up my map to select my final destination for the day.

A beautiful drive ensued and I found myself in Steamboat Springs. I found a quite place to stay that met all of my requirements: a balcony with a view, internet access, and CNN on which to watch the debate. I spent a great night with one eye on the debate and one eye watching a gorgeous sunset. I’m off now for another day of sight seeing and sermon writing. I think I’ll head south and look for a good place to watch the trees and work on plans for next year’s sermon calendar. Along the way, church, know that I am praying for you and miss you a lot.

I quit. No, I don't. Yes, I do. No, I don't.

I decided this morning to go on a little hike. I set out from the cabin and headed up the “hill.” Just a little one mile jaunt to get the blood pumping. One mile above the cabin is a sign that offers you two different hikes. One is 2.5 miles, the other 2.2 miles. I looked at the sun, considered the photo quality for going each of the two directions and set off for the 2.5 mile hike.

I was headed to Deer Mountain Summit. The first part of the trip was great. I was laughing, taking pictures, and generally amusing myself as I went along. I was hiking down a ridgeline for a while with spectacular views to both my left and right. Here’s one of my self portraits – the rest are on facebook.

About an hour and half into my hike, I started thinking that I was never going to make the summit. I had set a two hour limit for the outbound leg of the journey, not wanting to hike for more than four hours. This was the point where the trail really began to ascend. I was on a series of cutbacks that were leading steadily upward.

With fifteen minutes left on my two hour deadline, I started really praying. I was thinking how great a sermon illustration this would make. You know, I was tired – at the end of my strength, wanting to quit and turn around, but no I pressed on and look how great it all turned out. Each step I took was starting to be painful. I was experiencing “jelly legs.” That’s the technical climbing term, I think.

As the two hour deadline came and went, I was starting to resign myself to having to turn back before reaching the summit. I couldn’t tell if I was close or not. I was really wishing that there would just be some sort of sign – something to let me know I was still on the right track – and preferably that I was almost there! I started looking around for a place to lay down. I figured I should rest for a little bit and then start back down the mountain. As I kept going forward, I began to think this might turn out to be an entirely different kind of sermon illustration.

I was becoming genuinely concerned that the moral of this hike when told on Sunday would not be about perseverance and trust, rather about vanity and pride. Twice I quit and turned around. I never took a single step, but spun the rest of the way around and kept going. Once, I think I even spoke out loud, “I quit.” “No, not yet.” The really disturbing part about all this was knowing that as tired as I was, as weak as my legs felt, as low as my water was running – I was only halfway through the hike. Every step forward at that point was worth two steps because of the return.

I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t seen the sign. Maybe I would have gone on indefinitely. Maybe I would have turned around pretty soon. I know that I should have turned back well earlier. So, at the summit (and halfway point), I had hiked about 3 miles and ascended right at 2000 feet (from 8200 to 10200 feet)!

Still, the summit was spectacular and after spending forty five minutes up top, the two and half hours back down the mountain just breezed by . . .

In Estes Park

I haven't written on the old blog for quite a while. The truth is, I have been in my bunker - hunkering down and weathering storm after storm and I just didn't feel like sharing.

After not even 24 hours away, I find myself emerging once again. It is truly lovely here in Estes Park, Colorado. I am here on my annual sermon preparation retreat. By the time I come home, I will have every sermon title and scripture selected for the entire 2009 calendar year. Along the way, I fully expect to be inspired by God's creation (and have a little fun!).

Oh faithful (and neglected) blog readers, have cheer. I am on line again and will keep you posted on my latest adventure.

a mirror, not a window

How often I read the scriptures as though they were a window. I am reading along looking for insight into the world and people around me. Now, I’m not suggesting that the Word of God doesn’t give us insight into the world and people around us. It certainly does. The mind of God sees all things, all people, all of time as though at once.

Nevertheless, the scriptures are always first to be a mirror into our own hearts. The Word of God is a sword that pierces the heart and deflates human ego. I confess in my own mind, I often as not see the sword as I would hope it pierces the other – rather than as I would hope it pierces me.

In my daily reading on August 8, I read: 1 Corinthians 4.5: “Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait till the Lord comes. He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of men’s hearts. At that time each will receive his praise from God.”

I first read this passage as though it were a window, not a mirror. “Yes,” I thought, “God is going to expose the motives of people and reveal the secrets of their shadowy hearts!”

I then realized that this was a mirror, not a window. “Uh, oh,” I thought, “God is going to expose my motives and reveal the secrets of my shadowy heart!”

A disturbing thought to be sure. As I processed this word of truth, I became thankful for two things. 1) Jesus Christ has died for the shadows in my heart. The light he shines into my soul isn’t to convict me of sin, but to free me from it. I should fear staying in darkness where death is my only reward. Though painful, the exposing light of Christ ultimately frees me for life eternal. 2) I can trust God. I can trust him to shine light into my life and reveal the intent of my heart. I can trust him to judge me at the appointed time for when payment comes due, I will find it has already been paid. When the sentence on my soul for my sin is delivered, I will find it has already been served.

new thoughts for me

I am the chair of the Conference Council on Youth Ministry – arguably the most fun conference council in South Texas! It is populated by students and adults who love young people and who work tirelessly to bring the Gospel of Christ to teens. I spent the last couple of days with my council in Marble Falls. We played together, worshiped, and did our annual planning.

During our morning worship, we were singing our praise to God. I was looking around the room at all the sweet faces of youth and adults who had just spent four exhausting weeks leading summer camps for all the kids in Southwest Texas. They had given of themselves to serve the Lord. We were in a spectacular spot on Lake LBJ. The sun was streaming in, the open water all around us, and the communion elements were on the table.

We had to improvise a little bit with the bread and juice. Somehow we had forgotten the elements. So, we found a grape Capri-sun – though it must have been white grape since the liquid looked more like apple juice. For the bread, we had a plain bagel.

The singing came to a close and painfully I shared what was on my heart:

We are here in a beautiful place and you are all such beautiful people. We are of one mind and one accord. The unity of the Spirit is among us. Our worship of God is easy in this place – and it should be. And it is real. But, it is not the only place we are called to serve. In truth, much of our work and worship is to be done in the sewers of the human spirit. And that is being generous. Most of the world – often even the church exists in the selfish sewer of human depravity. We spew filth on ourselves, on each other, on our God, and on his servants.

Worship and service to God is more often not in a place of beauty, but instead in a place of desolation and waste. Jesus didn’t come to save pretty people, he came to save those in the sewers. Jesus offered more than words – I confess that I often only offer words. Jesus told us the greatest love is the love that lays down his life for his friends, then he called us friends. More than just offering words, Jesus laid down his life for all people. By his sacrifice he made us – he made me – who are enemies of God by our sin – his friends. He mopped up our sewer stained lives and made us gleam as though brilliantly white.

Our faith is messy. Consider that the great symbol, the great memorial, the great mystery that binds us together with God comes in the form of a broken body and shed blood. Blood that pours from hands and head and side is the enabling agent of a new covenant of peace.

In my daily scripture readings this week, I read the following and was mightily convicted. I know I don’t live this as I should, but pray God I am learning and growing in it.

1 Corinthians 4:11-13: (Paul describing the apostles) “To this very hour we go hungry and thirsty, we are in rags, we are brutally treated, we are homeless. We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it; when we are slandered, we answer kindly. Up to this moment we have become the scum of the earth, the refuse of the world.”

And 1 Corinthians 4.20: “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of talk but of power.”