Meeting Jan at Keith's Kettle

Once I arrived in Clearwater, my destination for Day 1 of my bicycle tour to international falls,  I headed for the local cafe.  Keith's Kettle looked to be the spot.  Sure enough,  it was packed.  I happened to walk in at the same time as an older woman.  She sat across from me and overheard me talking to my server. We started talking and she quickly observed that I was married and had been biking.  She was impressed that I had ridden 55 miles this morning.  She asked where I was staying and I told her "Clearwater."  She smiled and said,  "welcome to Clearwater. " She proceeded to tell me all about the town and her life.  She lost her husband two years ago just short of their 50th wedding anniversary.  Then said,  "we only have one motel. " I told her I didn't need one.  All I need is a patch of green grass for my tent, "  to which she offered,  "you can stay at my place of you'd like. " She gave me her address and directions. Would have loved to take her up on it but with thunderstorms coming in the morning I may not be going anywhere,  so decided to spend the night at an RV park, where there's shelter,  food,  and the freedom to get a late start,  should I need it.

Thank you Jan,  nevertheless.  I really appreciate your hospitality.  Had I not been so hot and tired from the 70 degree dewpoint this morning I would have had more energy to talk.  As it was, as soon as I finished my meal I headed out to find a place to pitch my tent and take a nap.  After two hours of sleep I felt like a new man!

Heading to Canada... by bike.



Twelve weeks of bicycle training is complete.  I've ridden over 1,000 miles since April.  Rode 230 miles two weeks ago to prepare for 350 miles this coming week.  Riding from Plymouth to border of Canada at International Falls.  It's a leap into uncertainty with some known quantities, which is what makes it a challenge. 

This will be a solo trip--no sag wagon or support.  I'm bringing everything I need with me--tent, mat, pillow (I need a little home comfort), one set of clothes and plenty of water.  I hope to find a place to stay each night and some good cafes in small towns.

My new Randonee touring bike is fantastic.  It's comfortable and handles a full load with ease.  A little slower than without a load, but perfect for a solo trip.  REI folks in Maple Grove have been a great help.  Love that store.

The Last Laugh on Good Friday

Out of the corner of my eye I saw an older woman quickly stand to reach up and touch the cross as it came crowd-surfing overhead. Everyone wanted a piece of it. To touch it. To do our part, if even for a moment, to keep it lifted, and then pass it forward to the worshippers who stood directly in front of us.  It was the least we could do—dare we say, for Jesus?—who 2000 years ago had carried a much rougher and heavier tree-like cross all the way through the crowd-lined streets of Jerusalem, for heaven’s sake. 

None of us wanted to let the others down.  So we each stood tall, reached up and grabbed the cross as it came surfing overhead, and did our part to keep it surfing on ahead.  I couldn’t help but notice the old woman again, now that I had turned around to receive the cross as it swiftly advanced from the back. I didn’t think she would make it before the cross had passed us by.  But she twisted and strained to quickly move a body that clearly preferred slower movements. And in one last burst of desperation she helped to carry one of the cross-arms for a split second on the tips of her three longest fingers.  Success! 

I stood in awe as I turned back around and watched the cross continue to sail overhead all the way to the front, held up and passed on only by the hands of ordinary people.  People for whom the Jesus who had carried it originally had been later put to death.  For their sake.  To give them a 2^nd chance, and a new lease on life.

The cross was gently laid to rest upon pillows, placed carefully on the marble stone steps of the altar area as if the cross was the body of Jesus himself.  The last three candles were extinguished, except for one.  Then even that one soon disappeared with its bearer down the aisle with the great hall growing darker with each step.  An “earthquake” quickly filled the whole cathedral with a loud, chaotic roar, punctuated by timpani and cymbals.  On and on it rumbled and roared and thundered and crashed until those assembled just wished it would stop!

When the candle was finally returned, the air was filled with the feel of death.  Stuffy.  Quiet.  Dark.  Like the funeral home where I went at age five to visit my grandmother, the first dead person I had ever seen.

We all stood, hesitating… waiting for the next movement in this world drama.  Yes—there would be one final scene.  A subtle moment of joy, and perhaps… humor.  At least I interpreted it that way.  Out of the heavens, above where the cross had been gently laid, tumbled down a waterfall of bright red rose petals.  Dozens of them.  Hundreds of them.  Fluttering down like red butterflies.  A sight to behold!  Like one “last smile” out of  the corner of the Father’s mouth, as a Final Statement to the scene that had just unfolded. A Final Statement that was revealing the deeper truth about what we had just witnessed.  A  foreshadowing of the magnanimous love that was about to awaken the world.  A Final Word by the One who really had the Final Word about this whole ignominy.  In another three days time. 

Call from God on my Samsung Galaxy, part 2

Every morning God calls me on my smartphone.  At 8:00 a.m. to be exact.  And He’s always on time.  It doesn’t matter if I’m traveling or in the middle of eating breakfast or fast at work catching up on emails.  He always calls.  For that I'm deeply grateful.

Sometimes if I’m in another room when God Calls, my wife calls out to me, “Steeeaaave…God’s calling.”  I’m not sure I’m totally comfortable with this however.  I mean, think about it.  If I happen to be missing God’s Call, that’s bad enough, but now I’ve also got my wife reminding me that I’m missing God’s Call!  See what I mean?

So how does it work?  My daughter’s pastor, Tammy Melchien, gave me the idea in her sermon one Sunday when she was talking about how Scott Peck (author of The Road Less Traveled) learned the difference between “praying” and “being available to God.”  You can read Scott Peck’s story in my previous post, below. 

 

After hearing and seeing that there IS a difference I decided to test it out.  So in my Quiet Time the next week, I worked it out with the Spirit, asking “when would be the best time to be available to God every day?”  We chose 8:00 a.m.  So I set a reminder on my phone to go off every morning at 8:00 a.m. and labeled it, “Time with God.” 

 

Now you might say, “wait a minute, that’s not God calling… it’s just you setting an alarm to remind yourself to pray.”  In the beginning, that’s what came across my mind sometimes too.  But after doing this for several months I’ve come to see that God is actually at work through this system.  Even though it’s a human creation, God can and does work through it.  Just like He works through all of the ideas, technology, discoveries, culture and structures that we create.  Even the printing up of a Bible on pieces of paper, using ink, and binding the pages together between two pieces of leather—is a relatively new invented technology.  And God has no trouble working through this new technology—speaking through it, even.

 

It’s reassuring to hear God Calling each morning, without fail.  It reminds me of the character of God:  God’s faithfulness, for example.  Unlike a friend who may quickly give up after a minute or two, God’s Ring never stops until I turn it off.  Or, His unfaltering love for me—He calls me just the same the very next day even after I have traveled to a breakfast meeting the previous morning and had to hit the “Dismiss” button while in the car.  (It’s unnerving to hit the “Dismiss” button when the phone message reads, “Time with God.”)

 

Read more about how to be available to God on my blog, "Call From God on my Samsung Galaxy, part 1."

Call From God on my Samsung Galaxy, part 1

M. Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled, one of the best-selling books of all-time, tells a story about after he became a Christ-follower. He started going to a local convent for spiritual guidance.  A sister there asked him about time for praying – personal celebration.  

Peck said, "Oh, I pray.  I pray when I'm out walking, when I'm going to sleep at night, when I'm listening to a patient and when I don't know what else to do. I pray a lot.” 

She pressed him gently, "Do you set aside any specific times to pray?" 

"Well, no," he said, "that seems unnecessarily rigid and un-spontaneous."

She pushed back again, "Maybe so, but what I hear you saying is that you simply pray to God when you feel like it, whenever it's convenient to you.  That sounds a lot like a one-way relationship to me; as if you are willing to relate to God only on your terms.  If you love God as much as you say you do - and I suspect you do - then I think you owe it to Him to set aside some times to be available to Him whether you feel like it or not, some time that will be His and not just yours."

Peck says he found that difficult to argue with and so he set about carving time out of his life every day when he says he does “'nothing' in the world's terms other than attempt in my own inadequate way to be available to God.”   

My daughter’s pastor, Tammy Melchien, (Community Christian Church/Lincoln Square) shared this story from Scott Peck as part of her sermon one Sunday when she was talking about the difference between “praying” and “being available to God.”  Putting this into action has been a turning point in my own daily prayer life.  You can read about it in part 2 of this blog, “Call from God on my Samsung Galaxy.”

Renewed at Noon

I made an exception on Ash Wednesday this year because two of my dear Chinese kids invited me to a basketball game as their guests. But I felt strange on the morning of—. Something in my Spirit hungered for the familiar but unsettling words when the ashes are drawn across my forehead, “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” Is that weird or what?

 

So I searched for a noon service.  Of course--who better to turn to than my Catholic brothers and sisters?  I jumped in my truck and took off for the Basilica, downtown.

 

Already streams of people were flowing in from everywhere—just like going to a game at Target Field.  Lots of young people.  For the next hour I sat among hundreds—at noon!  In a Church.  On a Wednesday.  In the middle of downtown Minneapolis.  Surrounded by rich smells of incense and monastic-like music, dawdling along in an un-hurried pace, in an other-worldly setting.  It was a “perfect storm” that recharged my spiritual batteries.

 

The enormous heights of the ceiling kept drawing my eyes and mind... up.  And there, all around us, were brothers and sisters from centuries gone by looking down on us from their painted faces in the stained glassed windows perched high above our earthly worship. The sweet haunting verses that were chanted from somewhere unseen floated out upon the Assembly and imbued our collective spirit with a touch of the heavenly realm.  Sweet.

 

Words were spoken and read and preached and sung and prayed. Words were used to confess wrongs… things that we wish we could have back to do over again, but can’t.  But then, sweet life – giving words were issued to wash clean those areas where the enemy had once again infiltrated our spirit and stained the spiritual garment in which we had been “clothed with Christ.”

 

Something in my body and spirit becomes aligned when I kneel for prayer and confession rather than sitting or standing. Kneelers invite that posture before God. It’s really something to behold, when you look out and see hundreds of people kneeling in a posture of humility, even in our Madison Avenue 21^st century world of suits and skirts and jeans and sweatshirts. No matter what your stature in the world, all are the same before Christ.  Hmmm.  If only….

 

I remember the young woman who could not kneel on her left leg – a sports injury?  She sat on the aisle so that when it was time, she could kneel on her right leg with her left leg extended out into the aisle.  No excuses I guess.  This was important to her.

 

I faded into one of the human rivers that streamed out of all eight doors in all directions back into the world, feeling full and fed with the Word and the Word-made-flesh that was given up in death—even for my sake.  Amazing… that the God of the ever-expanding, 9 – billion – year – old universe would notice me, hear me when I speak, speak into my life when I hurt or am lost, and even die for me in my place.  Really?  

 

It’s still hard to grasp the reality of that Act on the cross. But … now I’m getting ahead of myself. That Act is still ahead, on Good Friday, still another 39 days ahead on this year’s 40 day journey.

A Post-Modern Look at Jan 6

One look at the calendar this morning—it’s January 6—and I’m aware that the deep traditions of my seminary training still shape my daily perspective.  On the church calendar today is “The Epiphany of Our Lord,” one of only a handful of key dates each year like Christmas and Easter.

“Epiphany” means “to manifest,” or “to show forth.”  So January 6 has traditionally been the day when the true identity of Jesus begins to “show forth” in the world.  The traditional scripture for this day is the visit of the Magi, recorded in Matthew 2:1-12, who represent the people, cultures and nations of the world who are awakened to the fact that something new has broken in upon the world and is about to change the course of history and humankind forever.

This could be just a quaint story unless we ask “What does it mean for a 21^st century Christian to observe the Season of Epiphany in their everyday, post-modern life?”

First off, if epiphany means the “showing forth” of the nature and person of who Jesus is, then it makes sense that his followers would be doing the same.  How?  In the same way that Jesus showed himself to the world… through his good works, his kindness, his mercy, his teaching and healing and his befriending of those who have been cast aside by society.  Some examples…

·        Re-structuring your life so that you can actually interact meaningfully with the people around you… family, co-workers, neighbors.

·        Making room in your schedule for an ongoing “good work” as a Christian (otherwise, how if your life any different from anyone else around you?  In fact, even many non-Christians are engaging in “good works” these days.)

·        Learning from the lips of Jesus himself by engaging in some kind of daily quiet time, just you and God and a Bible and a paper and pen.

·        Taking time to have coffee with a friend… just to catch up on life.  Or ice-fishing (plenty of opportunity in Minnesota for that these days).  Or cook dinner together as a family.

You get the idea.

It’s interesting that each of the Gospels are written with this same flow.  Right after the birth of Jesus they jump right into his young adult years with story after story of good works, healing, teaching and befriending “sinners” as it were, i.e., the “cast offs.”  No doctrine.  No high theological treatises.  Not even much conflict with the authorities.  (That comes later.)  Just plain good works.  And lots of them.