Went up to the writing cabin to prepare it for the coming deep freeze and got more than I bargained for… a perfect powder day at Mt Baker! On this day, I’m thankful for health, the beauty of snow, and backcountry skis.
Alone again, naturally.
August 7, 2010 By 1 Comment
“Alone” isn’t really the right word, because I’m referring to the two of us, husband and wife. We’ve been on a vacation this week, not the kind where I’m speaking every day, but the kind where there’s been zero agenda, each day ripe with the opportunity for adventure or naps, or both, as our own choices dictate…
Tuesday: Details
Wednesday: A bike ride from somewhere below artist point, all the way to the top (each of starting at different places).
Thursday: Bicycle adventures in Bellingham, and lunch with an old friend, a carpenter who mentors pastors in the Bellingham area like Gandalf to Frodo.
Friday: A hike to the top of Goat Mountain instead of Church Mountain, because the road to the church was moved by construction (a metaphor? has the road to the modern church been moved by constructs of modernity, or deconstructions of post-modernity?)
Today: More details including writing an article for the local paper, and a field trip to a local farm that raises organic, grass feed beef, as we try to drop off the Food Inc. grid a little more each season.
In between the events, we’ve been reading books by Tolstoy and Nemirovsky, cooked some really great meals, and enjoyed discussions about where we’ve been as a couple, and where we might be going in the days ahead. We slept as much as we wanted. We’ve discovered that, after all these years, we enjoy being together more now than ever before, for which we’re profoundly grateful. There have been vacations blended with teaching, or heavy sightseeing agendas, or vacations rooted in things that simply needed to get done, like painting a house or caring for someone in need. This vacation, though, has been a different kind, a gift of genuine Sabbath.
There’s a part of me that wants to investigate where this notion of vacation came from; does it have origins in the Sabbath of old, or is just a byproduct of industrialization and unions? For now, I don’t care. Instead, with gratitude for the many gifts God’s given us, we pray that we’ll be found faithful, stepping ever more fully into God’s story of transformation. That, and a good Saturday rainfall, seems to be enough.
Here are some pics of the adventures… with more here
Alone again, naturally.
August 7, 2010 By 1 Comment
“Alone” isn’t really the right word, because I’m referring to the two of us, husband and wife. We’ve been on a vacation this week, not the kind where I’m speaking every day, but the kind where there’s been zero agenda, each day ripe with the opportunity for adventure or naps, or both, as our own choices dictate…
Tuesday: Details
Wednesday: A bike ride from somewhere below artist point, all the way to the top (each of starting at different places).
Thursday: Bicycle adventures in Bellingham, and lunch with an old friend, a carpenter who mentors pastors in the Bellingham area like Gandalf to Frodo.
Friday: A hike to the top of Goat Mountain instead of Church Mountain, because the road to the church was moved by construction (a metaphor? has the road to the modern church been moved by constructs of modernity, or deconstructions of post-modernity?)
Today: More details including writing an article for the local paper, and a field trip to a local farm that raises organic, grass feed beef, as we try to drop off the Food Inc. grid a little more each season.
In between the events, we’ve been reading books by Tolstoy and Nemirovsky, cooked some really great meals, and enjoyed discussions about where we’ve been as a couple, and where we might be going in the days ahead. We slept as much as we wanted. We’ve discovered that, after all these years, we enjoy being together more now than ever before, for which we’re profoundly grateful. There have been vacations blended with teaching, or heavy sightseeing agendas, or vacations rooted in things that simply needed to get done, like painting a house or caring for someone in need. This vacation, though, has been a different kind, a gift of genuine Sabbath.
There’s a part of me that wants to investigate where this notion of vacation came from; does it have origins in the Sabbath of old, or is just a byproduct of industrialization and unions? For now, I don’t care. Instead, with gratitude for the many gifts God’s given us, we pray that we’ll be found faithful, stepping ever more fully into God’s story of transformation. That, and a good Saturday rainfall, seems to be enough.
Here are some pics of the adventures… with more here
The Shalom of Creation
May 1, 2010 By Leave a Comment
The Shalom of Creation
Yesterday my wife and I drove up the Mt. Baker highway to its very end. She wearing snow shoes, and I backcountry skis, we made our way higher and higher in the silence of a spring snowfall blanketing the upper reaches of the Cascades. Light and shadow, wind and stillness, moments of clear visibility suddenly shrouded in cloud, silence: this is the sensual feast of the mountains in springtime. These elements do something to me that can only be described as “shalom”, a deep sense that this moment couldn’t possibly be better than it is.
After our ascent and descent, the car journey to lower elevations continues to be a sensual feast, as we move from snowfall to rain, to mist, to dry, encountering everything from deep winter to full on spring in the process. Trees at every stage of awakening are there for us to see. Lilies are budding in wetlands. It is all glorious, and my body responds viscerally. I feel my blood pressure lower, feel peace washing over me.
My wife and I drive on in silence and ponder, “Why do silent snowfalls and mossy trees dripping with mist have this effect on me? Why are these simplicities such a thrill, more thrilling than speaking to a thousand people, or seeing my favorite team win a game? Why is it worth the effort to ‘get out’ like that?”
I don’t have easy answers, but somehow I know that I’m made to read not only the Bible, but the book of God’s testimony in creation, because that book speaks so profoundly to me of God’s continued care for all of us. Yes, we muck it up with oil spills, torture it’s climate patterns with carbon consumption, and make a mess of God’s water gift to us – but for all of that, there are still signs of God’s abundant care, lavish beauty, and matchless grace and power. The signs are there for the seeing, in the garden, in the mountains, on the sea.
There’s a great deal I don’t know, as I look to the future. Our church is presently growing by beginning satellite campuses. I’m glad for this, and utterly convinced it’s God’s next step for us. I’m excited about the future for other reasons too. After I finish the manuscript of the book I’m writing (it’s due in a couple weeks), we have some planning times as staff and leadership to ponder, pray, and plan about the future. The opportunities to make God’s good reign visible in our city are abundant, and I’m looking forward to seeing how God’s directs to do just that, convinced that we’re called to bring churches together to work collectively on serving our city. These will be good days, energizing and inspiring.
But I’ll be honest – seeing a lily bloom in a pond, or fresh snow on the trees in the high country as I descend on my skis in silence are the things that energize me most of all. I’m ‘sabbathed’ and ‘shalomed’ by reading from the book of creation. I don’t know why it’s this way, but it is – and so I’ll keep learning to see the little things: new growth in the tree in my backyard, hummingbirds feeding, and rain on the roof.
Shalom – and please, pay attention.
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