ALL 4+

If it seems like most of posts involve running in some way, that's because they do. Running is the time when I get to take a mental break from the business of life. Sometimes I run with other guys. We talk and joke and laugh and sweat. Sometimes I run alone with no distraction. I commune with nature. I pray. I listen. I think. And sometimes when I run alone I like to listen to music. Like many others, I have my favorite Playlists that I have created: Upbeat, Beatles, Funk, Pop 4+ (4+ = rating of 4/5 or 5/5...only the best).

I often use music to guide my quiet time while I run. My most frequently used Playlist is Christian & Gospel 4+. As I run I reflect on the messages in the songs. I have my own private worship time.

As I was stretching before a run the other day, I considered which Playlist best suited my mood. At first I turned to my old favorite, Christian & Gospel 4+, but I decided I was in a more generic frame of mind. So, instead, I selected ALL 4+, my top-rated songs from almost every genre. 

I began my run with a song from The Police. A good way to start a run. But then came a song from Chris Tomlin, a Christian praise & worship singer. "Hmm," I thought, "a good mix." Next was a Duran Duran song (yes, I am a child of the 80s). But then it was back to praise & worship with a song from Third Day. As the playlist moved on to the next pop song, I began to think (as I am wont to do). 

There are times when I allow myself to be very connected to God. I am open to his presence; I devote my full attention to him. I press play on Christian & Gospel 4+. But there are even more times when I am not completely connected (or not connected at all). I put God out of my mind; I put him back into his book or his playlist until I am ready for him again.

But I don't think God wants it that way. Sure, there are times when he wants us to be consumed by him, to give ourselves over to him completely pushing everything else out of our minds and hearts and lives. But it is difficult (at least, for me) to live like this all the time. I don't always just read my Bible; sometimes I read mysteries or classics. I don't always just listen to Christian & Gospel 4+; sometimes I listen to Folk Rock. I don't think God begrudges us these times. But what we cannot do is completely shut him out. We cannot "put him in a box" and only take him out when it suits us (e.g., Sunday morning). At the very least, we must conduct our lives to the playlist of ALL 4+ which includes God and incorporates him into our everyday experience. He must always be there. We should always reflect on him.

Eyes Down, Eyes Ahead.

I've been doing more trail running recently. Running through the forest along rocky trails lined with roots and stumps is definitely harder than running on paved roads. But the payoff is time spent in nature, sometimes alone, amidst God's creation. Sometimes, if your heart and mind are open, you may even get to encounter Him. There's something about removing the distraction of cars and other people to put you in a place where you can see things more clearly.

But you can't let your mind wander to far afield, or you risk stumbling, or often in my case, falling down. You have to be vigilant about where your next step will be to avoid the rocks and roots along the path. But you also cannot be so focused on your next step that you lose sight of the trail ahead. You need to be aware of the twists and turns. You need to know which path leads where. You need to know which trail leads you home and which leads you astray.

Our daily lives are much the same. We need to be careful on the path we take. We need to be on solid footing to avoid missteps and tumbles. There are rocks and roots in all of our ways. We need not let them cause us to stumble or -- even worse -- not to run the trail at all. But we must also not lose sight of where we are headed. We must know the way we are going and follow the correct path, or we will surely get lost.

Chased

Even though the morning was hot and humid, it was pleasantly cool in the shade of the wooded trail. I had never run on this particular creekside trail. Each bend and turn brought new sights and sounds and smells. Not another soul intruded upon my time in the woods. I was alone with my thoughts.

Until the last mile of my run, that is. I had remarked to myself that I had seen very little wildlife in the woods -- a box turtle was the most interesting creature to cross my path. No sooner had that idea materialized in my mind than I spotted him up ahead. A young whitetail buck stood on the edge of the trail lazily chewing some greenery. Clearly I saw him before he saw me. Once he heard my plodding footfall, he bounded back into the woods a few yards. Feelng safe he turned to look at me.

As I shuffled along at my moderate pace, we made eye contact. The young buck seemed incredulous. Why was I running? Or more to the point -- why was I running when nothing was chasing me? I smiled as I imagined the young buck voicing his question to me. I even turned back to look to make sure nothing was chasing me. There was nothing there.

But then another thought occurred to me. I looked back again. That's when I saw them, my pursuers. I was not running for no reason. At least, I wasn't running out of pure enjoyment. I was running to stay ahead of my over-40 nemeses. I was running to outpace inactivity, to fend off weight gain, to stave off disease and physical decline. These, these were my pursuers. For the time being, I am running fast enough to elude my would-be predators. But I can't slow down. I've got to keep moving, or they will catch me.

I wonder what that young buck thinks about that?

Delay

Don't you hate waiting? It is an almost universal trait, the hatred of waiting. And it's no wonder what with us living in the land of microwave ovens and tweets and instant coffee and on-demand video. We hate waiting. Now isn't fast enough; we want it RIGHT now.

Recently, my family was at the airport ready to fly back home. We arrived at our gate early. Very early. But we didn't mind that waiting so much. We just knew the plane would arrive on time, and we would be on our way. Well, the plane did arrive on time. And we boarded the plane on time. The one thing we failed to do was take off on time. In fact, we sat on the tarmac for over 30 minutes. This, of course, is not unprecedented in the annals of air travel. But that 30 minute delay did significantly cut into our 45 minute layover in Atlanta. Those who have made a connection at Hartsfield recognize the problem of getting from one terminal to another in under 15 minutes.

So, we began to fret (a little): "Will we make our connection? Will our bags make our connection? What will we do if we DON'T make our connection?"

Once we landed, the 15 minute clock began ticking. We walked/jogged/ran from the B concourse to the C concourse. We didn't really expect to make it on time, but we had to give our best shot. As we emerged from the escalator onto the C concourse we wondered how far away gate C33 was. Another 5 minute jog? No. In fact, we were only 2 gates away. We made it with 4 minutes to spare. Our plane had not yet left.

Ah, but would our bags make it? As we pondered this question we realized that the boarding process had not yet begun. An announcement soon followed: our flight was to be delayed 30 minutes for maintenance.

We need not have rushed after all. We would have to wait another 30 minutes. But instead of cursing the delay, we rejoiced. Our luggage would make it on the plane after all! How fortuitous! We were experiencing the blessing of delay.

There are times when our lives become so frantic and our schedules so full that we are unaware of the opportunities around us. We press on full throttle when what we really need to do is to slow down and wait. Sometimes the delays in life are to our advantage. Sometimes we need to seek the slower pace.

God has a plan. It does not always fit our schedule (rarely, in fact). Perhaps we postpone the trip we have planned. Perhaps we do not despair over a lost promotion at work. Perhaps the end of a relationship is not the end of the world. God's timing is perfect. Trust in that. Sometimes (with apologies to Shakespeare)...

...the delay's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.

Unforgivable

(I've had this post written in rough draft form for a week or two. But I'm just now finishing it.)


Those of us who live in Alabama are well-acquainted with the recent story of the poisoned trees at Toomer's Corner in Auburn. Perhaps the story has even garnered nationwide attention. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story a brief rundown is in order. After Auburn beat Alabama in football this past November,  a self-proclaimed, ill-guided Alabama football fan injected herbicide into two trees at the landmark Toomer's Corner adjacent to Auburn University. He then had the foolish nerve to call in to a sports radio talk show to brag about the misdeed. It did not take law enforcement long to track him down and arrest him. The trees are not expected to survive.


In the aftermath of these events, numerous callers to that same talk radio show weighed in on the situation. Auburn and Alabama fans alike called in to denounce his actions. The poisoning of the tree was called "horrible,"  "stupid," and "crazy." One adjective used to describe the poisoning was "unforgivable." 


After hearing my fill on the subject, I turned the dial from sports talk radio to a news broadcast. At the end of a news story regarding the crisis in Egypt, the commentator described the actions of a certain government official as "unforgivable."


"Unforgivable"...what does that really mean? The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines the word in this way -- too bad to be excused or justified. An act that is considered unforgivable must be so bad that it is beyond excuse, justification or pardon. What sort of acts might these be? Betrayal? Murder? And from whom is the forgiveness not possible? From the wronged party? Relatives and friends? Society in part or as a whole? God?


I would argue that "unforgivable" is an extremely overused word. There have been many reprehensible acts for which repentance was sought and forgiveness granted. Are there victims of wrong-doing who are unwilling or unable to forgive their offender? Yes, but I would argue that it is often not the act itself that is unforgivable, but the person offended who is unforgiving. 


So, perhaps the word "unforgivable" has to come to mean the following: too bad to be excused...by me. We each hold the power of forgiveness. Sometimes we wield that power; sometimes we horde it like a miser leading to our own misery. We have become a nation of second chances. Witness the rebirth of the careers of Tiger Woods and Michael Vick. We each need forgiveness at one time our another -- from our spouses, our family, our friends, our coworkers, our community, our God.


Require forgiveness infrequently; grant forgiveness abundantly.

People are Watching

This past Sunday I ran the Mercedes Half Marathon. I went into the race with very few expectations because I had not fully trained for the event. The race was two months removed from the Rocket City Marathon for which I had trained diligently. But for the Mercedes? Not so much. I was hoping there would be some lingering effects from my previous hard work. Consequently, I really did not have a goal in mind other than to finish in under 2 hours (something I had done several times before).

I also was not completely sure how my body would respond to the test. But it was a beautiful morning with perfect conditions: cold and sunny but not frigid nor windy. I started out slow (mainly due to the 6000+ other runners) but soon found a comfortable yet energetic pace.

As we ran through the streets of Birmingham, scattered clumps of people gathered to cheer us on. Well, not me specifically, but they were cheering on their friends, their spouses, and their children. Some blew horns. Some played music. Many held homemade signs. The content of the signs ranged from "Go Dad!" to "Toenails are overrated!" One group even had several inspirational signs. One sign in particular was captured by the camera in my mind. It read: "Don't Stop! People are watching!"

I spent the next half mile pondering the implication of this phrase. Did I maintain my pace (or even speed up a little) as I ran by this sign? Perhaps. But I had stopped to walk in other races without considering whether people were watching me. Had I let them down in some way? Would they really be inspired by my continued effort? But then it occurred to me that I had never actually "stopped" during a race. I had slowed down to a jog. I had even walked for miles. But I had never stopped.

After the race it dawned on me that people are still watching me. Friends, family, acquaintances, strangers -- they are all watching me. Perhaps not constantly or pointedly, but they are definitely watching. How do I react to adversity? How do I respond at the end of a long day? Have I prepared for the situation before me? Have I studied? Have I worked hard? Have I prayed? In other words, have I done the training that is necessary to run the race that I want to run, the race of which I am capable of running?

I don't want to walk through life. I don't want to have to stop. But even more than that, I want to run with strength. People are watching.

The Primrose Path

During my recent trip to Honduras, I found myself lacking reading material. I had neglected to pack a book or a magazine or anything else to read (besides my Idiot's Guide to Spanish). I had intended to rely on the books I had downloaded on my iPhone Kindle app. But as I lay in bed on the first night in expectation of the relaxing comfort of a good novel, I realized I had not downloaded any new material. I was faced with a dilemma: re-read a mystery novel or begin one of the other works. My choices were limited. It came down to Fear and Trembling by Kierkegaard or one of Shakespeare's plays. Not having read it in awhile, I chose Hamlet.

Yes, it seems an odd choice given the circumstances. But as I began to read, I found the story familiar and the rhythms pleasing. I once heard Hamlet described as "nothing but a bunch of quotations strung together." And it's true (it is difficult to resist the urge to type " 'tis true!" right there). Passage after passage spoke to me in new and different ways. One passage early on particularly caught my attention. Laertes counsels his sister, Ophelia, to be cautious in receiving the affections of Hamlet lest they prove fleeting and false. Ophelia, the dutiful younger sister, agrees to take heed of his advice, but goes on to add:

But, good my brother,
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do,
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven;
Whiles, like a puff'd and reckless libertine,
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads,
And recks not his own rede. (I,iii,49-54)

Hypocrisy. It's an ugly word with a long and ugly history. The word "hypocrisy" comes from the Greek. It translates literally to "under-decide" but was used to denote "play-acting." I'm sure there were hypocrites even before ancient Greece.

Ophelia warns her brother, Laertes, not to hold her to a high standard of conduct and then walk down the "primrose path of dalliance" (Shakespeare lingo for "the wild side"). But her language cuts even deeper. She mentions -- by name -- ungracious, hypocritical pastors. She could have just as easily been speaking to many Christians, not just pastors or ministers.

I reflected on our mission trip in Honduras. We were sharing the Good News with the people there. The Way can, at times, be steep and thorny. How often do we turn around, finger still pointing skyward, and follow a different path? Is it because we lack faith? We only wish to maintain a good appearance? We are weak? I'm afraid the answer is "yes." Unfortunately, this trait, this failing quality is the stench that offends the nostrils of so many non-believers.

How then can we proceed? I preach primarily to myself here (but you get to listen in). We must live before we speak. We cannot speak in hypotheticals but in reality and out of true experience. Practice, then preach. We need to discover what we believe and put it into everyday practice. Then, and only then, can we offer our hand to our fellow man or woman to join us on that steep and thorny way. Together, we can make it.