Most nights I go for a walk before bed. Around 4 miles or so. It started out of need a couple of years ago as a way of loosening up my injured back before bed. I usually head out around 10:00pm, after everyone else is well in bed, and fast asleep. I take off for my regular route, sometimes with my digital music player providing background music or an audio book. Most times not. If the weather is bad, I have ways to cut it short, and if its just one of those perfect nights, ways to extend it. I've walked my route enough now that my mind and body instinctively know the way and the pitfalls. These include which areas are full of sidewalk cracks deep enough to snap my ankle, which homes leave their garbage right in the middle of the sidewalk instead of off to the side so that I could possibly snap my ankle, and which houses have dogs that like to bark with a tone that suggests they would like to come and bite me hard enough to snap my ankle. I don't even have to think about the walk anymore. My body just goes. So, my mind is free to go where it wants.
Usually the format it ("it"being my mind) follows is to take the northbound part of the trip as the time to debrief the days events. This more often than not explores the low lights of the day in greater depth and detail than the high lights, unfortunately. At times I find myself having a running conversation with myself, defending certain actions or people, and at the same time prosecuting certain actions or people. Usually by the time I head west, I've had enough of that train of thought.
The turn west is usually where I begin to notice that I'm on a walk. I check out the stars, the weather, homes that look good enough to spend a lifetime living in. I think of my turn west as my deep breath after rehashing my day.
Once I turn back to the south, I usually begin a time, which can only be called dialogue prayer. Its the time during my walk when I seem most sensitive to the things in my life for which I am most grateful. My family. My remarkable wife. The church I have the privilege of serving. My great and beautiful God. Mirroring my thoughts is my route. It is the darkest and quietest (and longest) part of my journey each night. It refreshes me.
By the time I turn east, I'm back into my "doing" mode, as I think about what needs to be done for the day ahead. Often times this comes out of my prayer time, as I envision ways to better respond to the blessings in my life. Rather than this causing me stress and anxiety, it is almost always uplifting.
The way my route takes me, I must turn north again to return home. I usually think about how different it feels from an hour earlier. My stress of the day has been released. There's nothing left to moan and groan about. I've had time with God. My body feels worked. I'm ready for home, and bed, and the new day to come.
And to think I complained a few years ago when I initially hurt my back.
One of my primary hesitations when it came to the creation of this blog, was that it would make me look self-centered and egotistical (in other words, that people would see me for me). As if other people would really care what I had to say about life and faith. The whole concept just seemed a bit self-promoting. But now that I've been at this for a while, I admit that I'm pleased with the outcome, and I'm really glad that I went forward with this. It has generated wonderful discussions, and allowed me to connect with folks that I would not otherwise have had the opportunity to do so with. And I love the way in which it has challenged me creatively, and forced me to keep open eyes and ears, as faith and life converge on a daily basis. All of which, I believe, has been to the glory of God, even if I don't always get to see the direct end result now.
That all being said, I was conflicted when I was contacted by a correspondent of our local weekly newspaper a few weeks ago. The paper wanted to do a full article on this blog. How did it start? What's its purpose? Who's the intended audience? What are you trying to say? Why you? They even sent out a professional photographer to take some photos, which ended up running with the article last week. Yikes.
And on the one hand I'm thrilled that this blog has been noticed, and that the opportunity for even more readers has been extended in such a dramatic way. And on the other hand, that same old fear of, "is this just more fuel for my already overinflated head" , came back. I guess I'll just have to live in that conflicted dualism.
The same is true for the local church. We want publicity for who we are and what we do, as it creates opportunities for even more ministry. Often times churches hire pastors hoping for that very outcome. And yet if we are to remain true to our calling as Christ's disciples, then we must constantly remind ourselves that it is God who does the work, who allows us to succeed (a difficult word to define), and who deserves every single scrap of the glory. The minute the church starts to rely on itself and not God, it ceases to be the church. Or at least, a useful church for Christ.
So...it was nice to be in the paper last week. But I'm trying hard to not let it get to my head.
A week or so ago, my wife's family (the image at left is of the official McNaughton clan crest) gathered for a family reunion, at Pilgrim Pines Conference Center (www.pilgrimpines.org) in Swanzey, NH. The whole gang was there, some of us camping in trailers, some staying in the main lodge building. Days were spent on the beach and in the bath-like waters of Swanzey Lake, as temperatures for much of the week were in the low 100's. We sat around the campfire at night, talking and playing cards together. Grandpa (Ann's Dad) opened a charge account at the snack shack on the beach and encouraged everyone to use it liberally. By Friday the charge card was three pages long.
How wonderful it was to spend such quality and quantity time together. The midwestern nephews and neice are teens now, and such great kids. I wish they were closer, like they used to be when we too lived in Illinois. The Connecticut neice and nephew are entering into their teen years, and maturing daily. They too are good kids. And it was especially fun to see Ann's two brothers and their wives as they enjoyed the change of pace that comes with kids who can now care for themselves (to a certain extent). I admit, I was a bit jealous at times.
And yet, at the same time, more than ever, I was so thankful to have these precious little gifts from God that I am able to call my children. Yes, they needed constant care (the oldest of the 4 of them is now 7). Yes, they prevented me (and Ann) from doing things that would have been fun to do (basketball, golf, tennis, naps). Yes, their nap schedule and feeding schedules got in the way and forced us to seperate from the gang at times. But how short are these days of childhood. Soon they too will be teens, able to fend for themselves (to a certain extent), and itching for freedom.
It was awesome to see the neices and nephews growing up. But, I'm in no rush for mine to do the same.
On Sunday, I preached from the prophet Habakkuk, who in chapter 3 verse 2 prays, "Lord, I have heard of your fame; I stand in awe of your deeds, Lord. Renew them in our day, in our own time make them known". Like the author and theologian Don Everts, I too believe that one of the biggest challenges facing the church of Jesus Christ today, is our loss of awe. We have forgotten just who God is, as we have, over the years, reduced him into bite size chunks of bland "tofu" (Evert's great thought, not, unfortunately, my own). If the church is going to proclaim Him to this world so desperately in need of Him, then we must reclaim the sense of awe that the people of the Hebrew scriptures, and those that interacted with Jesus on a daily basis back 2000 years ago, had. The type of awe that forced people to their knees.
As I asked in my sermon, when was the last time you were in awe of God? When was the last time you trembled in awe as you held the bread and the cup in your hands, reflecting on Jesus?
Once again the words of U2 come to mind..."Your love is teaching me how to kneel."
Thanks to my father-in-law, who, recognizing my passion for studies and discussions centered on the Holocaust, sent me the following political cartoon. Though some believe the zenith of humanity is found in our footprint being placed upon the moon, there are those of us who see the climax of humanity in the ashes of Aushwitz. May we "Never Forget".
