16 to Go

Over the Christmas holiday we made a blitz trip to far West Texas. We visited Big Bend National Park and Guadalupe Peak National Park. We did three fantastic hikes. The first, to the Window from the Basin in Big Bend. The second, to a desk carried to a mountain overlooking the town of Alpine (Yes, a student desk carried by some track athletes. It then became a thing for people to fo and visit it. It’s hard to find, the map directions are confusing. There are notebooks in the desk and people write messages in them. That’s what we did). The final hike was to the top of Guadalupe Peak, the highpoint of Texas.

The first hike was about 5 miles round trip. We left late in the day and hurried, fearing it might get dark. It’s the worst sort of hike, the first half is all downhill. That means the return journey is 100% uphill. We got to the bottom and took some pictures, had a snack and then started back up. The light was slowly fading. The sun bathed the area in glorious reds and yellows as the sun stretched into the distance. I took loads of pictures, but none do it justice. We were glad late in the day.

The second hike was about a one mile round trip, but we stretched it into something a lot further because we got lost. We were looking at a map, but I totally misunderstood a marking on it and that lead us far astray. We looked like something out of children’s tale, wandering in different directions and turning in circles looking for the end of the rainbow. Eventually, we got headed in the right direction and then saw people in the distance. They were already at the end point. We went toward them. The return journey was a cinch and downhill all the way.

The last hike was 9 miles. It was very strenuous. The first section is very steep and then it settles into really steep. You gain about 3,000 feet of elevation through the hike. The hike was complicated by very strong winds that nearly took us off our feet a couple of times. The return journey was also bathed in the beautiful light of the winter evening. When we got down, we were really joyful.

I’ve been looking over my highpoint map, reliving many of the trips. Remembering the beauty of some (Virginia, part of the Appalachian Trail) and absurdity of others (Delaware, it’s in a trailer park). I have studied this map over and over again trying to figure out how close to 50 I can get. All but 2 of the ones I have left are high and difficult. One is a 40 mile round trip hike. One is a 56 mile hike. Some require a level of mountain expertise. They all will necessitate being in great physical shape. With 16 to go, I’m going to have to pick up the pace. I can’t afford to do just one a year. I need to average 3 a year to have a shot of getting them done by the time I am 65. And I have so many other plans: write my book ( I have notes and outlines), finish my animated film (I have found and bought an articulating rabbit to help in the process), and just this Christmas I got a puzzle that has pictures of all the state birds, which got me thinking of taking a picture of each of the state birds in their state. So, I’m ready for a new year, I’ve got plans.

Shepherd

We were in the shepherd’s field early to film. I was along as an “extra” as Katie was the preacher and we were filming her sermon. We wanted to get the sheep in the background. The sheep wanted nothing to do with us. I made it worse by turning on my drone to film the area. Sheep don’t like drones. When we set up our cameras, the sheep hustled away from where we were. So, I ceased to be on the film crew and was sent to be a sheep rustler.

Since the sheep were trying to avoid us, I went to get on the east side of them. Once I got in front of them, the lead sheep stopped on the path and tried to stare me down but when I would not go away, the sheep turned around to head opposite of me. The owner, Mr. Sato, was on the west side of them so as they turned around in the face of my unyielding movement they saw him. Then they froze right where we wanted them, between us. A fence was on the north side and the film crew was on the south. That meant that the sheep’s instinct to avoid us kept them mostly behind Katie. The sheep, however, saw an opening between myself and the film team and slowly they began to drift into that opening. So I drifted south trying to get them to turn back behind Katie. They kept their heads down and kept munching and maneuvering toward the southeast. 

When the batteries on the filming devices shut off, due to the cold, I was back on the film crew and went to do technical support. The sheep saw their opportunity and fled to the east through the opening I had created. By the time we had the equipment ready the sheep were scattered and we had to start over again. 

It does not take long to watch sheep and understand why God picked them as a metaphor for us. We hate to be boxed in, we want to do what we want to do. While my purpose was clear, “Stay behind Katie,” the sheep’s  purpose was clearer, “We don’t want to do what you want to do.” The grass in the filming area was just as good as anywhere else in the field. In fact, the sheep chose that section initially. We just went to where they were. As soon as we arrived, that is when they wanted to leave. Sometimes we are resistant just to be resistant. Sometimes, we rebel for no good reason. 

Sometimes we are frightened by things that can not harm us. The drone is tiny. Most people would say it is quiet (for a drone). It stayed a long way from the sheep, yet the sheep spent a huge amount of energy avoiding the drone. Like a flock of birds, they followed the lead sheep all over the field. I watch people all the time react with fear over things which are tiny risks, but have been amplified by the echo chamber of society. We often listen to the wrong things. Mr. Sato told them it was OK, but they did not listen, instead they reacted and wasted so much energy. When we would listen to the voice of the Shepherd instead of the voice of the world, we are better off. He wants to keep us safe, He wants to keep us fed and loved. We just have to trust Him.

I’m glad I had a morning to spend with the sheep.

Shutting Down

We film the sermon sections early in the morning to hit the best light, what is called “Golden Hour.” This week we left the church at about 7AM and headed to Kerens for Katie to film. We loaded my truck with the camera equipment because where we were going required a 4 wheel drive high clearance vehicle. The metal light stands were bone chillingly cold, I hurt all the way to my elbows as I slid them in the bed of the truck. It was cold, really cold.

We arrived in the sheep field to film. The clouds were covering the sun. We set up the cameras and the teleprompter. We have been doing this for months now. I charge the iPad each night before we film so that it is ready for the process. We load the sermon on the device. This frees the preacher to speak carefully calibrated words without having to memorize them.

We started to film just like every other week. Then the iPad gave us this rolling flower of death. It shut off. It said that the battery was drained. I was so puzzled. I was sure that I had charged it and it had never even gotten to 50% after a day of filming. We jumped in the truck and plugged it in. This was a problem the light was changing each second and we needed to get back to filming. Within a minute the iPad came back to life. It still had a significant battery. I began to suspect that it was the cold that was to blame (always going to be able to shift blame off of yourself, right?).

I turned on the heater and tried to warm the device. Within minutes we were back to filming. The sheep were restless and moving around so we had to recompose the shot and relocate, but finally the cameras were running again. The warning messages kept appearing not the screen. It was preparing to shut down. Katie kept her cool and her temp never changed. She reached the end of her sermon right as the iPad was ready to give up again.

After we got back to Athens I read about iPads. This is a known problem. It does not like to be too cold. It wats battery life. It wants to nod off. It just says, “NO.” It made me feel better.

The temperature of the environment often influences us in a similar way. If people around us are angry, we tend to reflect those same emotions. If suspicion is in the air, then we are wary. If distrust surrounds us, we lock the doors with more gusto. If people are laughing we tend to bend our mouth corners up. If tears are welling up, we sense the moment and get nostalgic and still.

God, however, calls us sometimes to step out of the environment and lead. He calls us to inject love in the middle of hate. To risk trust when others are fanning the flames of fear. Jesus was quiet when others were shouting. Jesus was compassionate when others were judging. Jesus was welcoming when others were excluding. The iPad cannot generate its own heat. We, however, have the internal power of the Holy Spirit that fills us and can overflow from us to others. In this cold difficult world, God needs you to be a bright, warm light.

Lost and Found

We film my sermon early in the morning on Wednesdays. We try to use “golden hour” that time right after sunrise because it produces the best light of the day and I need all the helpI can get. I had filled out the permit application and the Tyler Film Commission had approved my request to film in downtown Tyler. We loaded the van at 6:15 AM and then headed to the East. Sunrise was at 7:11. When we got to the square we started to unload.

We assessed the light and realized the place where I needed to film was going to be hit by strong light in just a few minutes and so we need to film fast. Our team started to move quickly and assembled all the parts to our set-up. I put up the timeplase camera. This little camera has the ability to film for about 2 hours taking picture every 3 seconds while panning the camera. It then assembles the pictures into a movie. Not that long ago it would be an immense undertaking with expensive equipment. Now a simple handheld camera can do it all. It is about the size of a candy bar. We have used it since Covid began and we love these 1 minute slices of time.

After we filmed the light rose and washed out the area and we were glad we had started early. Then we walked across the square to get some coffee at a friends coffee shop. I let the camera keep filming because we were finished in about an hour and it needed the extra time. The coffee was good and then we headed to film at the Rose gardens. Then it was back to Athens for a full day of filming for the Christmas Eve service. As we parked in the slid parking lot at the church I realized that I had not picked up the time-lapse camera.

I tired not to panic. I considered the distance back to Tyler and the schedule for the day. I did not have time to drive back and forth right then. I called a friend who lives in Tyler, but they did not answer. Then I called Joe Wood. After he retired they moved to Tyler. I told him my problem. He put on his shoes and headed out. I consulted the google oracle and it said he would arrive in 16 minutes. I paced. He wanted details about he camera and its location. I created the map above and 2 others to show its eaxct location. About 20 minutes later he called. “I have the camera.” I was so relived. The next day his wife, Glenda, who still works for the city of Athens, brought the camera back to Athens.

The footage is great and will be in the service this week. It shows the light coming into the square and lighting the trees on fire.

I’ve been thinking a lot this week while reading the book of Hosea about being lost and being found. I’s so thankful that when I was lost, God came looking for me.

In the wrong bin

I needed two sheets of thin plywood for a project. We traveled to the store, put on our masks and walked directly to the area, not wanting to linger in the store. The first thing I saw was some Poplar wood material. I grabbed two sheets and was ready to go. Then I saw this bin near it. This wood was the same size but was less than half the cost and was perfect for my needs. I slipped the two poplar sheets back in their bin and then grabbed the cheaper ones and headed to check out.

It was a self check out station with one of those hand laser scanner devices that makes me feel like I am in a science fiction movie. Cindy zapped the first piece of wood and then the second. She asked me to confirm the prices. I starred at the screen. I took a second for my mind to catch up with my eyes. The two prices were different than I expected and different from each other. I felt fortunate that I had taken a picture of the price on the bin so I could show it to the attendant. It has happened to me often enough that I regularly take the verification photo to the check out register.

I looked at the scan tag on the wood. The first said that it was a 2’ by 8’ piece of wood. Since it was standing on the floor and only reached my elbow I knew that it was miss marked. Maybe it had been cut in half and the tag had not been changed, I figured we could solve the problem I looked at the second sheet. It was a Poplar piece that must have been put in the wrong bin. I showed the attendant the obvious mislabeled wood. They did not seem interested. I knew that I had to get a new piece so I carried the two back to the plywood section, searched through the bin to find two pieces that were rightly marked and set them aside. I resolved the Poplar wood and left the wrong marked wood on the ground. I hoped it would get noticed, but assumed that it got resolved by a helpful worker. The next guy at the register may catch it or they may not. Always check the price.

We live in a world where we are constantly deciding if we are willing to pay the price. Will we pay the price for character change, for relational improvement? Will we pay the price to be a great friend? Will we pay the price to grow in our mind, body or spirit? The problem is that sometimes we are fooled by our eyes and pursue the wrong direction. We spend precious energy on things that don’t matter, that cannot fulfill us. We end up at the register with the wrong stuff at the wrong price and have to start all over again.

Decided what you want, carefully chart a course to that goal, calculate the price and then start the payments. Reject substitutes, refuse to pay extravagantly for what can only be had with repentance. The evil one wants you to believe that you need to pay the price of perfection, of working to be good, of being justified by behavior. The gospel is that Jesus has paid the price. You are accepted in love. All you need is to receive his love.

Interruption

I looked over my shoulder and saw a glint of light. It looked like a hand reaching up out of the ground. I stopped and looked more closely. It was a broken picnic table next to a pile of other broken tables. I immediately wrote it off as a careless pile of junk and shook my head at the laziness of the park maintenance department for not hauling the trash off, instead of just piling it in the middle of the park. Later, while on our annual after turkey walk, I got close enough to the metal pile to realize the true story.  This was a picnic cluster and a huge tree had fallen on top of the tables. It was a big tree. I wondered when it had happened. Were people in the park? Were people near the tables? Were people at the tables?

As I stood looking at the wreckage I thought a lot about this last year. It has been a year of disruptions, interruptions and tragedy. Where people are standing in relation to the situation seem to influence what they think about the problems. When I saw the twisted metal from far off I thought it was a laziness problem. When I saw it up close I realized how dangerous and random the destruction was.

My nuclear and extended family are of one mind that Covid is real and that we needed to be very careful this thanksgiving. We decided to reshape our celebration. First, while for years the family has come to Athens, we headed to the Metroplex. One of our group is in the medical field and was on call. They have seen some of the worst of Covid so they were especially careful. Second,  while we had several indoor options, we chose to do our meal 100% outside. Third, about 6 weeks ago I began to search for a gazebo or cover pavilion in a park in the Dallas area so we could be outside, but out of the weather, I finally found one and rented it. It could seat 200. We were expecting 20. Four, everyone committed to wearing masks except while eating. Therefore, when eating, we seated all relational bubbles  10 feet away from the other groups. We are a loud family, so we talked together, just further apart. Five, We all wore gloves and masks while dishing up the food.

Three of our group still decided they did not feel comfortable gathering and we so missed them, but those of us who came felt safe. We invited 2 people to join us who were unable to return to their families on the East Coast. It was such fun to meet new people, even if we only saw the top of their faces. Cindy provided crafts. We all personalized ours and had a gallery showing to marvel at each other's creativity.

We took turns telling about the last year. A bunch of trees have fallen on to the lives of our family and friends. death, loss of jobs, relocation, depression. Still, most found something to be thankful for in the midst of this storm-new friends, more time with family, moments of surprising joy, retirement, jobs. For some this has not been the worst year, but one of the best.

I’m not sure what happens when a tree falls in the forest, but when it falls on a society we have to adapt and change or be lost. I’m thankful that our church has adopted a life giving, live honoring posture to Covid. I'm thankful for a staff team that has done amazing work. I’m thankful for technology that has allowed us to film and show worship. I’m so thankful that God is standing right beside us today.

Broken Dreams

I feel really bad. I’m not sure how it happened. I bumped a curved glass frame that has one of our Disney pictures in it. It fell over hit the corner of the dresser and then plunged to the floor in pieces. I was standing in my barefoot. The dogs were around me. I quickly made them sit. We were stuck. They were so interested and would willing walk on broken glass. The explosion zone was huge and I did not want to walk on broken glass. Cindy was in the other room and could not hear me. My phone was on the counter about 20 feet away. I yelled at the phone, “Siri, call Cindy Henderson.” I waited, hoping that it had reached Cindy and then called out to her for help. Then I waited. I was not sure she got the message. I was not sure that the phone even called her. Amazingly, it worked. Sometimes the phone is in my hand and will not make the call, but this time it did.

Cindy came in the door and assessed the situation quickly. I needed her to get Bear, the dog most interested in the glass, and hustle him out of the room. He seemed hurt that I would not let him come over to me right through the glass. I had been studying the floor and found one safe step that I could make to get away from the mine field. I kept Shadow, the other dog, in her seated position and was able to secure her away from the glass which was between her and the door. I got on shoes and then started picking up the shards. Cindy brought the vacuum cleaner and I went over and over the carpet. I have no confidence that I got it all.

I apologized. I was sad. I thought, “I’ll buy a new frame.” I searched the internet for “curved, glass, Disney, frame.” I found some, but not the one we had. I added, “small world.” The exact frame came up. I excitedly clicked on it. It was sold. I searched and searched and could not find one. I’m still looking.

It has been a year of broken dreams with no way to get them back. Special events missed, sad events made worse due too distance. Exhaustion and misunderstanding abound. Plans that were made have been abandoned. Some are plunging right ahead with Thanksgiving plans. Others, like us, have made radical shifts to move outdoors and protect the vulnerable, while still trying to connect. There is hope around the corner, but we still have a long way to go. Last night, I saw pictures of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree. It looked beleaguered, beaten and broken and apt image for 2020. This morning, I was thrilled to see that a tiny owl had been rescued from the lower branches of the tree (you must go and see his picture). It really made me smile.

It will be Thanksgiving day soon and I need to get serious about finding things for which I am thankful. It is going to take more work than usual, but I know if I can look beyond the circumstance I will see more clearly. Maybe you can help me. Just type a word, a phrase. What are you thankful for on this difficult and challenging year?

How did I not know that?

I love waterfalls. I love the sound of the water. Like the soft clapping of a reverential audience. I love the continuity, that it seems endless in its joy and creativity. I love the way a slight wind can move the column of water like a snake gliding through a forest.

Last week, I got a text, and a question from my good friend Chris Stapper, “Have you ever been to the waterfall at Wolf Creek Lake in Palestine? I just saw it on PBS.” I immediately responded and starting searching on my phone. Sure enough there is a beautiful, relaxing, amazing waterfall just 30 minutes away from Athens. I have never heard of it before which is surprising given my interest in hiking, the outdoors, photography and waterfalls. Why has no one told me about this place?

So the next day, we loaded up after church headed to Palestine, bought some BBQ and then went for a picnic and hike to the waterfall. As advertised, it was there. It is not Niagara Falls, but it is sublime. Its not the biggest, loudest, most beautiful waterfall, but it is the closest. I will be back. I want to see it all the different seasons. I want to see it after a big rain. I would love to see it frozen in mid-air. The dogwoods in the area must be a beautiful addition.

I called a friend who lived in Palestine for 18 years. I asked him why he had never told me about the falls given who I am. He said, “I figured you already knew.” I didn’t.

I invited a friend to come to church in High School. I shared Christ with them. Sometime later, they became a Christ follower. They told me that I was the first person to ever invite them, to ever tell them about the way of Jesus. Though they had grown up around hundreds of Christians, no one has shared the beauty, majesty, wonder or joy of Christ with them. Don’t assume, share.

Sushi

I am not at all an enlightened eater. I grew up eating fish sticks and going out to eat for catfish, occasionally, but never raw fish. I just can’t get my head around the idea. I also grew up around people who had a fear of raw, undercooked food and the damage it could do to a person. So “RAW” = dangerous to me. I have followed these sensible eating rules for most of my life. Cook food until it gives up. I don’t like raw vegetables that have been placed into hot water for 2-3 seconds and are “balanced”. I like my vegetables soft and completely limp. All my food friends roll their eyes at me when I talk about my eating style.

When I started traveling on mission trips, I had to face the reality that in foreign lands a person will be offered foreign foods and it is necessary to eat the food, without objection, as to not cause hurt feelings. Once, I was served a bowl of cold mushrooms with a congealed gelatinous sauce on them. As I dug into the bowl of inch sized grey blobs, I was told. with pride, that they had picked them in the forest that morning. It was disgusting, but I smiled. In Ethiopia, I sat down at a table with the President of the country. We were at one of his retreat homes in the Eastern Mountains. We were sitting outside with servants standing all around us. They brought food to us. A waiter put a huge spoon of raw meat on my plate. I was told that the meat was from deep within the animal, that it was amazing and safe to eat. The next hour was a real challenge.

Each time, I pray the prayer I was taught, “Lord, I will get this down, you will help me keep this down and get it through me, just not too fast.” Mostly, God has answered that prayer.

While on vacation, I saw this sign. It made me laugh and shake my head. I can’t imagine anyone having any meals per month of mercury loaded bass let alone twice a month. Why would someone want to do this? How could it be possible that eating fish from this little lake was that important? After reading the sign, I would asses the lake as catch and release.

Whenever we feed ourselves from the toxic waste of this world, whenever we feed our ego with pride, false flattery, and haughtiness it is as if we are eating pollution. When we dip back again into the well of sin, we might as well be drinking mercury. It builds up in our system and destroys us, yet we have the meal over and over again. Feed on the words of the Lord, for they alone can fill your soul.

Relentless

I woke up in the morning. It was our second night in the mountains of Colorado. I was so excited to wake up for the new day. We had a great evening the day before and decided to clear out a little space in the trailer by moving a box of extra food into the back of the truck. The wind howled all night long but the weather forecast was for a bright day. We were preparing to hike my favorite trail in the Rocky Mountain National Park.

I stepped out of the trailer and went to get something from the truck. I saw that the bed cover was in tatters. A table that had been in the truck was on the ground. My first thought was thieves. My second thought was marshmallows. There was a bag of marshmallows for s’mores in the box that I had taken out the night before.

I looked more closely. The table had long gashes and teeth marks on its surface. It ruled out most thieves. I spy around. I felt like we were in the middle of town. We were near the mountains, but not that near. We had made a bad mistake in the wrong place. I spent the next hour cleaning up the truck. We had to wash off the cold drinks because they had bear slobber on them. I used duct tape to create a temporary cover for the truck bed from the remnants.

I have been looking for bears in the National Parks for years. I last saw one in 2002. I was frustrated that I got all the mess without any of the fun. I bet the bear was frustrated because all it looks like he got was a bag of marshmallows and a snout of pancake mix. I bought a new cover for the truck that is hard and made sure that we had no food in the truck until we got back to Texas.

Have you ever searched and tried to find something and then suddenly realized that it was near you all along. I was asleep just 10 feet from where the bear was mauling my truck. I missed it because the wind was making noise and I did not recognize the possibility of the situation I was in. Today, this week, try to look up, try to wake up, try to listen. God is stomping around and you might just be missing it because of the distractions.

Remember

Computers were supposed to make us smarter. Sometimes, I’m not so sure. I still remember my grandparent’s phone number, JE58011. I remember my phone number growing up, 817.277.9688. I used to remember tons of phone numbers. Now, my “smartphone” remembers them for me. I was writing my Friday update today and trying to fill in my assistant’s (Connie) number. I had someone read me her number from their smartphone. They also have her programmed into their phone on automatic dial. It's been years since I actually dialed the individual numbers to reach her. 

The number I sent out was Connie’s number, at one time, but it is not her number any longer. The middle numbers were 806 and I think they triggered a memory of my phone number in Spearman which started with 806 so it sounded like the right number. It was not. My auto dial reaches her correctly at 903.292.6063. What happens when you no longer use a skill, like memorizing phone numbers? You lose the skill quickly. I think this is true Spiritually. When we were kids, we were taught to memorize poems, passages and scriptures and it was not as hard then as it is now. 

Our church has been trying to learn 36 Bible memory verses for the past 9 years. These 36 verses have fed the church for a long time. The Navigators selected them to help the average Christian to be able to share Christ, talk about life in Christ, give an outline of the benefits of the Christian life and the Spiritual power available to the Christian. 

Our staff meetings begin with a 8 minute test of a group of the verses. We hold ourselves to a rigorous standard. After we take the test, we score the test and then report our score to the rest of the staff. Three weeks ago, every staff member got a perfect score! It was the first time in 9 years of trying. We work at it, but it is hard. Especially since we added 6 verses in Spanish. Part of the cobwebs in my mind are the many other versions of the Bible in which I have memorized scripture (we have committed ourselves to the TNIV versions). I tend toward the King Kyle version. 

Each morning, I look up the Bible verses using our text service and I am thankful for the simplicity. I study the text on a sophisticated Bible program that opens the Hebrew and Greek and multiple bibles at the same time. I used to do this with actual stacks of books open on my desk. Now, it happens in the blink of an eye (you should see my monitors). They have to be big to open the dozen books all at the same time and make them readable.

I love looking through people’s Bibles. I fear, in the years to come, that all of those signs of individual devotion will disappear as we read the Bible more and more on smartphones and tablets. Somehow, we need to keep a record of what God has said to us and rehearse it over and over so that we never forget the truth.

Imagination

We had a young guest in our home this week. It has been a while. Cindy sent me after the “box of toys.” We keep it around to entertain. It has pull toys and a small play house and some characters. I went looking for it. I checked all the places it should have been and could not find it. In the last 6 months it seems to have disappeared. I know we will find it and remember why it got put where it was put, but for now it is just a memory.

While looking for it, I found my mother’s old hard make-up kit that went with her luggage. It was in an out of the way place and I remember that my mother used to carry it like a Mary Poppin’s bag. I pull it out and set it in the middle of the floor. When our guest arrived, he opened the treasure chest. It was filled with the blocks and residue of my childhood. Old matchbox cars missing the wheels. Luke Skywalker tattered and worn.

“Let’s build a house” my young friend urged. So we started to build a little village. Each house ended up with a lilac bush. One had a cistern for collecting rainwater. Little trees dotted the landscape. The blue cars parked in front of the blue house. The race cars circled the downtown tower.

I think I need to get on the floor and play with blocks more. We had a lot of fun. The abstraction of squares, pillars, triangles made for an endless amount of combinations. If we ever tried to build this village again, it would look completely different.

It is so easy to get stuck in the rut of the way things have always been. It is so easy to just go through the motions. One of the benefits of the last 6 months has been trying new ways. New ways of communication, new ways of being together, new ways of worship, new ways of eating. We have been reinventing different parts of our lives.

I’m watching what is going on around us and it feels like people are just trying to go back to normal. I’m not sure it’s a great idea to just go back. Maybe we need to think new thoughts about the future. Maybe we need to figure out how to pave new pathways. Maybe our future can look different than our past. If we break down life into the essentials and started rebuilding, could we have a more connected, more compassionate world? I’d sure like us to give it a try.

Raccoons

I woke up this morning at Tyler State Park. It is one of my favorite places. It is filled with a lifetime of memories. When Cindy and I first married, we had a tent and a car and not much else and we could camp. I started Seminary and Cindy started teaching in 1984. We were 21 years old. Each spring break we would take off to East Texas to camp at Tyler State Park, hike a little, and then drive over to see some friends that lived in Shreveport. We would go drive the azalea trails. We love East Texas in the spring. We both grew up in the metroplex and there are no seasons there, just concrete and traffic lights. We were meant to be outside in the spring.

Later, we introduced some friends who ended up getting married. We were camping in Tyler State Park and they stopped by on the way back from their honeymoon. It was our first encounter with the Raccoons. Early in the morning they came to our tent and started to scream. They were just outside of the canvas and it was unnerving. It sound so much like a person. We turned on flashlights and they scampered back into the pine trees.

Still, another spring break, we took a couple camping at Tyler State Park. She had never been and we wanted them to be campers so we planned an amazing trip with amazing meals. Cindy and I went early and set up the tent, laid out the beds, and fluffed the pillows. We had steaks cooked outside over the grill and potatoes, baked in the coals. We had hammocks. It was nearly perfect. Our friend could not sleep well. All the noises in the forest bothered her. The sound of bugs bothered her. I think the thought of the raccoons prowling around the tent bothered her. It was her first and only camping trip.

Last night, Cindy and I returned to Tyler State Park. We bought a travel trailer. We had always planned to buy one for retirement, but COVID accelerated our plans. It feels like a safer way to travel. We are still pursuing high points and most of the next ones are in remote areas, so we like the idea of a base camp. We are taking it on vacation in October. It will be our first vacation this late in the season. We have always gone in the summer, but the COVID work flow just would not allow us to be away. So, we thought we needed to go practice in the camper.

I made a reservation. We packed the trailer. We headed out for a 15 hour, over night adventure. As I pulled into my campsite, a large raccoon came lumbering across the field. He went straight to the truck in front of me. He stood up on his back legs and reached for the handle. If he had been any taller he would have tried to open it. He circled around the truck. Then he turned and looked straight at me. It was like being welcomed back home by an old friend.

I woke up in the morning and walked to the lake to see the sunrise. I saw tiny footprints at the waters edge. If you look at the doors of my truck you can see paw prints. It reminded me of how much I need nature, how much I need to be outdoors, how much I need to look up so that I might be filled up with the presence of God.

Stickers

I grew up playing football. I was the center. I was big. I could do long snaps. I could follow instructions. I don’t remember volunteering. I think, on the first day of practice, I was assigned the job.

Each summer, in late August and early September my fingers feel like little needles are attacking them whenever I think of football. We practiced in an open lot. There were no goals, no sidelines, just a relatively flat area. It was covered with sticker burrs. We ran through them. We did up and downs in them. Our shoes and socks were filled with them. The football got covered with them. As the center, it was my job to protect the quarterback. I had to pick the stickers out of the ball before I hiked it to the quarterback. At the end of practice each day my fingers would be numb from all the jabs. I really hate stickers.

I saw a patch of them this week and it caused me to be back in the 4th grade and it filled me with dread. How can something 50 years ago feel so present today? Have you ever had to absorb the pain of a group? Have you been blamed for something you did not do, but for which you were responsible? Have you ever paid the price for something others did?

This is the way and life of a leader. It’s what happened to Jesus. He invites us into the costly path of serving others. It will mean that we do for others, serve others, and help others at our own expense. It will mean that we have sore fingers and aching muscles, but a free conscience. I remember taking great pride in cleaning the football. I don’t think I ever handed off a ball that was not clean.

If there is a job you are dreading, or a responsibility you are neglecting, then it is time to get to the good work of serving others. You will feel good about it later. Do the hard work now.

Point of View

I never wear my reading glasses in the shower, no one does, but if you are staying in a motel and are using those tiny bottles of shampoo you need your reading glasses. I edited the photo to represent the different ways I see these bottles. The top is the way they look with my reading glasses, the bottom is the way they look without them. There is the problem. 

In the shower, I’m trying to get the shampoo, then the conditioner. It is always in that order, but there is another variable, the body lotion. You never want to put the body lotion in your hair, but it looks exactly like the shampoo and the conditioner when I don’t have my reading glasses. When I think ahead, I get my glasses I study the bottle and then I strategically place them in the shower, shampoo on the right, conditioner on the left, and the lotion way over by the sink. 

I have a solution. It will only cost about an hour of work by a label design specialist. Place a large S, C or L on the bottle. Here are those three letters in different points (the way we measure typeface sizes). S  (This is 8pt). C (This is 10pt). L (this is 16pt). I recommend that those little bottles be required to have an s, c or L in at least 16pt so that people with marginal vision are able to distinguish between them when not wearing their reading glasses.

The people designing these labels are doing it on huge computer monitors with HD resolution and color corrected screens. They fly through the process on some desktop publishing program. They balance the text, they add logos, they debate the colors. Then the label goes through an approval process. People see them printed on high quality paper in well-lit rooms while wearing their reading glasses. Someone approves the design and then they go into production. Tens of thousands of labels are printed, placed on bottles and distributed. Then, they are put into dimly lit, tiny rooms filled with steam and people are asked to discern between three bottles. That is why people all over the world have put lotion into their hair or washed conditioner out with shampoo. 

This is a minor inconvenience. It is childish to even complain about it, but it is instructive to me. There are problems that people have of which I have no awareness. If I see without reading glasses, then I don’t have any idea what people who wear reading glasses see when they look at those tiny bottles. 

How often do you see someone in a behavior that you don’t understand? Is it because you see the world differently? Is it because your experience is different than theirs? This is the only explanation for tiny fonts on these bottles. The people designing them are out of touch. This is why we see people angry about abuse or neglect and because it is not our experience we assume they are the problem – not the abuse. Every so often we have to try to see through another person’s eyes. 

Flashback

My heals rested on the edge of the surfboard. My arm extended and waited for the pull of the boat. I kept saying over and over in my head, “Roll up like someone is helping you stand up, wait for the boat to pull you up.” The water was peaceful on the early morning. It was beautiful on the lake.

The boat surged ahead, water gathered under the board and lifted it toward my feet, my toes gripped and I began to stand. At that moment, my left calf muscle seized. Pain shot through my leg. The thought that came into my head was, “No, not again.” I let go of the rope. I began to stretch my muscle trying to get it to release the knot. I rubbed it.

Several years ago, I had a similar muscle event. During the process, I tore the calf muscle which caused a blood clot in my leg that went to my lung and caused huge chaos in my life. The pain in my leg felt so similar. I tried several more times to get up on the surfboard, but each time when the pressure came to my leg the muscle reacted with disapproval. I gave up and swam to the boat.

Those moments of flashback, where pain from the past intrudes on the present, can be very disorienting. I do not want to go through that process again. I felt the panic rise up inside of me. I kept trying to push it down. It kept rising up.

Pain, suffering, and grief are rarely straight lines. Instead, they come at us like reflections on the water, first from one side, then another, followed by long periods of quiet. I have not had the leg panic in a long while, but there in the water, I was immediately transported back through time. I was lying in a hospital bed instead of floating in the water. I hate that it has power over me. I wish I could just get over it. It lead to several days of self-reflection. I was discouraged. I watched a slide show I made for my dad’s funeral. My body’s failure points out the inevitability of my body’s eventual collapse and decline.

It made me think of the scripture, “You who still the noise of the seas, The noise of their waves, And the tumult of the peoples” Psalm 65:7. The prayer I keep repeating is for God to calm the noise within me. My hunch is that others are hearing the noise of the chaos of the world around us and need to pray the same pray. “God, calm the tumult of the people.”

Untouched

I saw the lily pads in the water. The radiant white flowers turned their faces to the sun. The dragonflies slid back and forth across the tops with ease. The wind had the force of a baby’s coo. The water held the leaves with gentle reverence. It was a perfect morning on the lake. I waded into the carpet of lily pads to take a picture of the white flowers. After struggling with that assignment, I headed back to shore.

A shiny, silver pool flickered as my wake caused the frond to undulate. Like a little bead of mercury dancing in a science lab, a droplet of water scuttled across the green surface. It moved like a dancer, barely touching the surface. I was mesmerized. I stopped and watched. I made movements in the water. I tried over and over again to see if I could get it to stand right in the middle, but each time it scooted away, right to the edge of the center yellow spot. The drop was never diminished. It never broke apart. It seemed to move with ease unconcerned and untouched by the plant.

The last five months have plunged so many people into darkness and pain. Isolation and self-harm are on the rise. Abuse has been reported more frequently. Despair has saturated so many people’s lives. We are not like drops of water on a lily pad. We can’t skip through life untouched by the pain, struggles and difficulty surround us. No, we have all been touched by the pain. Sometimes, I wish I could be like that drop of water, but the hurt around us is so real that I feel like I leave part of my self behind and my drop keeps getting smaller.

I have had to develop new routines, new pathways of self-awareness and care to be able to thrive in our new world. I have altered my eating and my exercise. I have reached out, way more often, to my ministers accountability group and our small group has become so much more vital to be able to check in with others. Still, we keep finding people who have fallen through the cracks, people who have slid away and we are all grieving losses.

I have heard people talking about it, getting back to normal, but I don’t think we are ever going back, because you cannot travel through this land untouched. God says, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you” (Isaiah 43:2). I don’t want to go through life detached and unfeeling, but I’m clinging to God’s promises that He is with me on this journey. Sometimes, all I have are the slight pressure of His fingers on my shoulders reminding me that He is touched by my pain.

The Grass is Always Greener

My dogs have been training me over the last four months. Before that, they were on their own during the day, but now I am available to meet their every need. Apparently their need is to be on the other side of the door. It does not matter which side they are on, the other side is what is interesting. So, I go to the door and I am constantly letting them in or out.

I do it for several reasons. Most importantly, if they need to visit the facilities, they are outside. I have this painful searing memory of childhood. I was with some neighbors. We had gone camping. On the way back home, I needed WC very badly. I don’t remember telling them or asking, I just remember needing to stop. I remember being very embarrassed. It was the first and only time I remember going with these people, I don’t even remember their names. The urgency index kept going up and up. I really needed to stop and then I couldn’t stop.

The way the car did not react lead me to believe that I was alone in the situation. No one else saw, heard or smelled anything. The car kept going and so did I. Relief was followed by shame and guilt. It felt like hours went by. The images moved outside of the car, but I was frozen inside the car. Still, no one said anything or even noticed me. I tried to become a reflection in the window, something you could look through and not even notice. Eventually the car ride ended. I don’t remember anything else but embarrassment.

When my dog goes to the back door, she turns and looks at me and the eyes I see looking back are 4 years old and they are mine. As many times as I try to ignore her, I just can’t do it. My four year old self keeps telling me to stop and open the door.

When the dogs are on the outside wanting in, they come to the windows in the back and stare like Superman using his X-ray vision. They lock on to our movement and will us to come to the door. Have there ever been moments when you were on the outside looking in? When you yearned for acceptance? In my High School if you were a guy and did not play football, you were invisible. I knew lots of the football players, but in the social context of Arlington High School being a player mattered. It took a long time to find a place to fit in. I did finally, in the drama department. It is where the social outcasts found community, acceptance and friendship.

Once established there, I could not wait to go through the doors to the drama room because on stage I could be anyone. I had a ton of friends. We had a blast wearing the old costumes. Lots of the old longing and loneliness finally faded away. That group of friends really helped redeem my life. When I see my dogs looking in the window, I see my 14 year old self looking through the social windows trying to find a home and I go to the door and let them in the house.

If you can make the wounds of life available to yourself and others, they can be the well of compassion that allows you to see hurt and pain and then be moved to action. For whom do you need to open a door?

Shelled

I stepped out of the car to take a short walk to a historical site in town that I had never seen. A bit of research for a future moment. The path was loose dirt. It was quiet and still in the woods. The light was low in the sky. Tall green stalks brushed against my shins. I kept looking at them thinking bugs were attacking. The site is over 150 years old and locates the earliest settlers in the Athens area.

We headed back to the car and then I saw shiny amber glints in the trees. I stopped and saw. I realized that I had been seeing them recently, but had ignored them. It’s really a marker of summer. The cicadas have arrived. For 5-7 years they have been down under the ground in the roots of plants eating and growing and preparing. Then, they come out at night. It is their only defense. They climb and climb in the darkness. The first light they have ever seen is the stars and moon trickling through the leaves. Then, after finding a place, they attach and slowly they shed their skin. Scientists call these shed skins “exuviae,” all that remains behind.

I love that definition, “all that remains behind.” It seems like our own story. We all develop over a long period of time. We are nurtured and grow, but at some point we have to step out into the light ourselves. It is a very vulnerable time. There are many dangers. People and ideas coming looking to feast on us. Eventually, we begin the process of transformation. It requires leaving something behind.

Paul says, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me” (I Cor. 13:11). The stuff you put away, the stuff you shed, that is your “exuviae.” For some, it is the toxic ways of racism of their family of origin, for others the intoxicating elixir of greed and materialism, for others the sole crushing weight of abuse.

When I see these little shells, I think about thoughts and ideas that I need to be honest about that are surrounding me and encasing me and in some cases suffocating me. What do you need to get rid of that you might be healthy and whole and fly?

Crutch Club

Picture taken at Poly High School, Fort Worth Texas, 1950. (Left to right) Back row ?, Mel Henderson, ?, George Feather. Front row ?, Billy Don Sherman, Miss Nina Terry

The Baptist world is fairly small. When I started in church work, I traveled to Baptist meetings all across the country (Kansas City, Dallas, Atlanta, St. Louis, San Antonio, Las Vegas (yes that’s right), and New Orleans). Baptist would gather for meetings, preaching, and arguing. During that process, I came into contact with lots of Baptist leaders.

One was James Dunn. He was the head of the Baptist group in Washington D.C. that was given the task of making sure the government did not forget that all Americans have freedom of religion. It is easy for the people in power to ignore the fringe and marginal groups, but since Baptist started as a fringe and marginal group that was persecuted, taxed, ignored and oppressed for years we know how important it is to stand up for the little guy. James was a fantastic guy and I was proud to get to know him. He and my mother were great friends in college and he took me under his wing as if I were his own.

My parents pastor was Baker James Cauthen. He was a legend in Baptist work. He was a missionary in China and endured great suffering there. He eventually directed all of the work of Southern Baptist Missionaries. In my second semester at Seminary, I had him for a class on missions. It was amazing. My parents were so proud that I got to sit at the feet of their pastor and learn.

Cecil Sherman was a pastor I got to know. He eventually became the head of the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship and I have a chance to be with him on lots of occasions. I used to watch him on TV on Sunday nights. He was a great preacher. His daughter became a friend in our church in Dallas. He was from Fort Worth and my mom and my dad both knew him, but he was a little older than them. Cecil is one of my heroes.

Cecil’s little brother was Bill. He is seated on the front row of this picture. Bill is a baptist pastor. The first time I met Bill I told him I was Mel Henderson’s son. He nearly exploded. He told me about the day that my dad joined the crutch club at Poly High School in 1950. My dad was playing soccer and got kicked in the shin. The sound of his leg breaking was the story that Bill wanted to tell me. I met Bill on 4 or 5 occasions over a 15 year period of time. Every single time I would introduce myself he would tell me the story again.

My parents were in the orbit of some great leaders and they held these people up as heroes. I formulated opinions about people by the way my parents talked about them, the way they introduced me to them. I learned deep respect for God’s servants. It made it easier to become a pastor. I wonder what is being taught to children and grand children these days. What professions are we proud of? What individuals are you proud of? There are so many bad stories in the world of people that get it wrong, but there are more stories of people who get it right. Make sure you are pointing out the people doing a good job.