I Like Walking to I Like Running; With Life and With God

I Like Walking to I Like Running;

With Life and With God 

Isaiah 40: 28-31.  "Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint."

           

            I am not an athlete.  I hate exercise.  I like endorphins.  I love competition.  I prefer to watch sports from the sidelines.  I look at people running marathons and think to myself, "They're out of their minds!"  And I run my first 5K on June 19th, 2014 at Lake Junaluska at 7:30am.  I hate working out in the morning.  I loved every second of it.  I loved running with my sister.  I like to exercise alone.  I want to live a long time.  I want to have good health so I can enjoy a long life.  I hate giving up control.  I give God my need to control and find out I love it.

            Understand that I HATE moving.  I can be perfectly content slouching lazily in my chair, feet propped up with a game controller in my hand.  I am a gamer, through and through, though the controller could also be substituted with a good book, or my phone as I read newspapers, magazines, and blogs.  Or it could be watching sports (World Cup Futbol right now)!  Moving is simply not a natural state of mine.  And yet for 7 years now I can taken long walks with my wife to running my first 5K with my sister.  What gives?  A realization in my mind and heart actually, or I should say my joints.

            When I began working out a bit more seriously 2 years ago in my BodyPump class there was a gentleman who was busting his butt, and he definitely had some weight to lose and was putting me to shame.  One day after class I told him how awesome he was doing.  He responded by telling me he was a borderline diabetic and working to stop it to avoid having to take insulin.  He then told me something his doctor told him which I never forgot, "You're going to be facing some pain, you can't avoid it.  It's either the pain of a needle or the pain of breaking a sweat.  Your choice."  Wow.  Truth be told, I had made a similar decision a few years before.

My Sister and I at Yankee Stadium, 2003.  I've come a long way.

        

In the years before I started walking, I wasn't just overweight, I was obese.  No question.  While I wasn't happy how the weight made me look, it was also painful.  I was experiencing serious back-pain, the kind that made it hard for me to even walk at times.  I would sometimes go to sleep in my recliner because it would ease the pain that my extra weight around my waist would put on my spine, which my bed didn't provide.  The weight made my joints in my hips sore, so walking was even painful.  It hurt enough to make me grit my teeth, and Advil became a new friend of mine.  I would eat unhealthy (fast food and soda were favorites) and I would tell myself that that was normal, but the pain was the price.  There's always a price, even if we pretend to ignore it.  There are no free lunches.  The fact that my favorite hobbies also included sitting didn't help either.

            Then 7 years ago I married Renee, and she saw the potential in me and got me walking (3 miles every day and it hurt a lot, for there are prices to pay).  You probably know that story but there is more.  I also had to get over my fear of joining a gym.  Fear?  Me?  Yes, fear of judgment, that I would see people doing amazing things and I would have to look at them and look at myself and find myself wanting.  I would be forced to judge myself.  However I couldn't back out, I had to join.  We lived in an area where walking 3 miles wasn't a option anymore.  So I did something I thought I would never do, I joined the Y.  My health and well-being improved, inch my inch, drop by drop, slowly as the movement of a glacier.  Well those drops in the bucket added up, but sometimes the bucket would be poured out too.  Life does that.  The birth of my son (and the freedom to do anything goes out the window), the changing of churches and jobs, you gotta adapt or lose what you’ve gained.  You also gotta look higher, be bolder, and sometimes be crazier.  In this case, it's doing a 5K.  Big surprise, that was my wife's idea too! 

     

My 1st 5K in April

 Running even a portion of a 5K was a daunting prospect.  I was not ready for it.  I ran till I could run no more and then I walked on my 1st 5K in April (technically my 2nd, but I walked leisurely that one a year before with my wife and son.  This time I left them behind, with their blessing).  37 minutes.  Not bad, and I would aim to do the same for the next one at Lake Junaluska.  I really didn't want too, but I had plateaued in my fitness and I wanted to up it.  Beginning is often the hardest step.  I went to social media to tell of my goal to hold myself accountable to it (I thought often of backing out), to receive encouragement (I needed it), and to receive advice from my more athletic friends.  Then a funny thing happened, God threw me a curveball.  My sister Dana texts me the day before, she wanted to run with me.  Oh dear Lord NO!  She runs all the bloody time, and now she's going to run with me?  I can't keep up.  Older brothers don't like being beat by their little sisters, ask the Bernstein Bears!  But Dana is so happy, so encouraging, and I can't think of a good reason to say no without being a total jerk.  So I say okay.

Before the 5K, the proceeds go to fight malaria

         We meet at Lake Junaluska around 7:00am the day of the race.  I'm already nervous.  I am not trained to run this, I can only handle one mile and this is 3.2.  Dana insists we run most of it.  I insist we walk when necessary and not kill ourselves.  Then off we go!  There's something wonderful watching so many people from different walks of life, clergy, laity, families all running as one.  It's beautiful.  Well we didn't get 20 feet and Dana nearly loses her car-key she tied in her shoelaces.  I shouldn't have been surprised, these things happen to her….  And then off we go, again.  As we jog along I notice something; we are talking to each other a lot.  I didn't think I would have the breath for it, but I do.  I also notice that Dana's pace is slowing me down from my favorite speed, but it may be one I can keep longer.  She told me later I was forcing her to run faster than her favorite speed, go figure!  We continue our jog around the lake, joking about dodging goose poop (the lake is infested with Canadian Geese), how we're feeling, just having a great time.  I also notice that I am managing this well and I can see the Convention Center (also the finish-line) across the lake from us.  We can do this.  So I look at Dana and say, "Okay, let's do it.  Let's run the whole thing!"  Dana is excited and we continue.  I ask her if she's okay and she says, "We aren't running laps so we can do it.  I hate laps, they're the worst thing a 5K, to double back on your progress.  This is just around the lake so I think we're good!"

I'm slightly middle/left, Dana is behind the guy in black.  Our Bishop's head can be seen beside the right checkered flag.

       

    Then we reach the wooden bridge, the one that takes us back to the side of the lake with the finish (beside the pools if you are familiar), and the sign says to keep running on past the bridge.  How?  There are no access roads to get around the lake past this point without going to the main highway, and that's too far.  Then we start seeing runners going the opposite way past us.  We're being lapped back to the bridge.  I am thinking very negative words in my head as I feel my legs yell at me in frustration.  It's horrible when you have to argue with your legs.  Dana is shaking her head, her words already coming back to bite us.  Ugh!  I blame her!....I know it's not her fault, but that was a punch to the gut.  So we run on and on, and it hurts, till we see the 5K volunteer by a cone telling us to double back around her.  As we jog around her she says, "Great job you're half way!"  Now I know she's wrong, we've passed half way a while back.  I've walked this trail dozens of times before, this isn't half, this is 2/3rds.  Dana believes her and it kills her.  Still, we keep running, the joy now turned to determination, and pain.  I'll be dead before I walk across that wooden bridge I tell myself.  We also see our Bishop Larry Goodpaster walking quickly on the lap-part.  We wave and he keeps on trucking.  We look at each other.  The power-walking bishop is keeping up with us.  So we keep going.

            So we reach the bridge and jog across it, dodging dog walkers as we go, almost to the long stretch of the Rose Path.  I'm feeling okay but as we reach the other side of the bridge I see to get to the Rose Path we must run uphill.  It looks 25 miles long.  We both consider walking (but we don't speak it), and I know 2 things.  One, if we walk now we'll never get back to a jog again.  Two, my buddy Drew is at the top of the hill cheering us on, and I didn't want to hear what he would say if we wimped out now.  So we fight it, and struggle up the hill, jog past Drew as he tells us we're almost there (You don’t have to tell me!), and on the Rose Path we go.

            Now the sun's out, and the humidity jumps 250%.  It's flat ground, but the air and heat is oppressing.  Still we keep jogging.  And there is the Convention Center, so close and getting closer.  We're going to make it, I think.  We then hop onto the road seeing the runners who have been waiting on us, cheering us on.  I can see the checkered flag-gate.  "If you can sprint, go for it," Dana tells me.  "It's all I can do to run at this pace," I reply.  Then a few seconds later I look up at the nearing finishline and see a clock.  I can't believe it.  First I didn't know a fancy big clock was even up there to begin with.  Second, the time shocked me.  Remember my first 5K was 37 minutes?  This clock said, 34:55.  I've already beaten my time.  Then something clicked in my head.  "Are you going to let that clock hit 35?"  "No!!!!!!!!" I cry out in my head.

            Without warning I cry out to Dana, "Come on LET'S GO!!!" And I let loose in a full out sprint.  I can barely hear the crowd laugh and cheer at my exclamation, just in a corner of my consciousness.  Only one thought runs through my head, "I'm flying."  Literally it felt like flying.  My feet are hardly touching the ground.  I'm soaring through the air with the grace of an eagle and with more energy than when I started this thing.  I glide through the finish and jumped high and far into the air with a righteous fist-pump.  Dana comes in right behind me telling me that to keep up her heart was about to explode.  I must confess, a tiny itty-bitty corner inside me was excited I beat my sister, but 10 times more my heart is filled with joy that she was there to push me, encourage me, and that we finished this 5K together.  I can't describe how much love I had for my sister in that moment.

After the 5K, feeling like champs!

            As we confidently walk/waddle over to the crowd to find water and bananas I try to take in what just happened to me.  Something new transformed inside me.  Then the words came into my head, "I am becoming the master of my own flesh."  Usually we are slaves to our flesh; to disease, aging, death.  That's life, but we aren't victims to all of it.  We can chose the pain we experience; to break a sweat, to decline the donuts for a banana or two, to get up, to suffer for righteousness, and suffer with a friend who can bring out the powerful human being within you.  I made that choice, and in that moment of flying I felt as alive as I did on my wedding day and the day my son was born.  I'm not kidding.  As in those days a whole new beautiful world was laid out in front of me; a world without limits, a world filled with the wisdom of knowing choices, a world worth suffering for, a world where my body becomes perfected in God's Grace, a world where my life my can positively effect other lives.  This wasn't a goal that was met; this is a new beginning.

            Now you may be thinking, "Congratulations, you found a hobby and you're getting fit.  Good for you.  I could never  - or I can't -."  Thank you for your kind thoughts, but I will not accept your can't(s).  We often place more barriers in front of us than barriers that are already there.  We craft much the worlds we live in.  We are more than just victims trapped in life's chaos.  You can be swept away in the chaos, or you can chose to fight it, struggle in it, master yourself within it, and most importantly, give that control to God so that He can lead you through it.  Excuses are surrender, and we can always do better than that.  Why not chose your pain?  You have choices, and you make them daily.  Why not make good ones, even if they hurt (the bad choices hurt also)?  Now please know I have total empathy and love for people who have disabilities who prevent them from the activities I'm loving, and this isn't meant in any way to knock them.  Besides, those people have a strength and grace within them that far surpass what I have, big time!  What I am encouraging you to do, dear reader, is to take stock of what you have, see how blessed you really are, and if you're ready, start walking, and if you are walking now, start running!  Walking is where it starts, it's been my preferred speed of travel for a long time.  One day as you walk you may realize that walking is just the beginning.  God has created you to fly.  Like a plane racing down the runway to create lift, we are called to move a little bit faster, struggle a little bit more, discover pain can kill you or can create wisdom and endurance within you.  With this knowledge you move faster, stronger, and then it'll click, and you take off.  It also helps to fly with someone who is willing and ready to do it with you, to teach you, encourage you, and push you.  The odds of you taking off are higher if you have a friend or partner beside you.  It's how God made us, not to be solo artists but to be a community, a family, a church.  Start walking, learn to like it, and when you’re ready, start running, and do so with a friend!  The results will rock your world.  You'll never look back.  You won't want to.  The sky is so much greater.  It's where God is waiting for you and for me.

After the 5K.  My smile is fake, but I really feel awesome!  Dana's smile is great, as always!

More pictures from the 5K can be found here at the Western NC Methodist Conference website;

My first concert (it's HEAVY METAL)! One year later, the true story!

     A little over a year ago, I went to my first concert EVER, which was also a heavy metal concert! (Christian music "concerts" do not count as concerts in my book.  They're more of a worship service than the awesome purity of a concert.  Just a clarification of my point-of-view).  I shared this with my church last year in a Newsletter article, and now I share with you.  How does a newbie handle being in the middle a mosh-pit and keep his pastoral identity?  This is my experience;

 

     So let’s get started…I am a fan of heavy metal music.  I have been since the “Grunge” music era of the 1990s.  Nirvana, Alice in Chains, and Radiohead were all my favorite bands, and I still love them!  In November of 2004 I was introduced to my all-time favorite band; Lacuna Coil.  I heard their music in a videogame soundtrack (I know, I’m a nerd) and I was mesmerized.  The beautiful sounds of heavy metal echoed through their music, but it carried by the melodious voice of their female vocalist Cristina Scabbia.  Wait, a female lead in a heavy metal band?  Unthinkable until recently, and it works!  And that was another thing; they’re from Italy!  I own every album they've ever produced, and for almost 9 years I enjoyed every song they have performed.  The sad part was that I enjoyed their music by myself, and never in person.  Until last month I had never EVER been to a heavy metal concert.  I didn't know many heavy-metal fans growing up or even today.  Some of my friends enjoy that kind of music to an extent, but not with the fandom I possess.  Also Renee isn't a heavy metal fan either and I respect that.  She’s a country music fan instead, which I am definitely not (with a few exceptions), so opposites attract! 

    Then came an act of fate; Lacuna Coil was coming to the States on tour with a couple of other bands (Avatar and Sevendust).  They've been to the States before, but always appearing in far-away places like New York City, LA, or Orlando.  This time I looked at the tour dates out of curiosity, and I saw that the opening show was in Winston Salem, NC.  WHAT?!  HERE?!  In North Carolina?!  I didn't believe it.  So I checked the venue site (called Ziggy’s, which I had never heard of until then) and yep, they were coming in early February!  Unreal!  Even better, the tickets were just over $20!  As far as I was concerned, seeing Lacuna Coil live is worth 10 times that.  Renee offered to come too so I wouldn't have to go by myself (isn't she awesome?!), but I felt this is something I needed to do myself.  Plus, I didn't want her to…suffer listening to the kind of music I enjoy.  So I bought my tickets online and waited (I later learned that the show was Sold-Out soon after I bought my tickets).

     Finally, Saturday February 2nd arrives, and I dress warmly knowing I’ll be outside in line to wait.  I leave for Winston Salem to arrive at Ziggy’s 3 hours before the doors open.  I get there to find the line is already long…rats!  So I get in line, outside in the freezing cold (35 degrees in the dark and its windy), and I immediately start conversing with the people in line with me.  I chatted with a tattooed gentleman and his teenage daughter next to me in line who I am going to call Jim and Amy (not their real names).  I first asked Jim about taking his young daughter to a heavy metal concert and they said they had been to several before.  This was like their bonding time.  Jim said he usually goes to 12-20 concerts a month (whoa!).

     I decided I am in line with two concert professionals and I am going to just own up to the fact that I am a newbie at this.  So I tell them this is my 1st heavy metal concert.  Jim and Amy look at me with immediate concern, saying that I have no idea what I’m in for.  I tell them I have reasonable expectations but I am open to any advice.  Jim says to stick with him and all will be well.  As we continued to talk the conversation went toward our jobs.  Here we go, I think.

   "So what do you do?" Jim asks.

   “I’m a pastor."    

   Jim looks surprised and smiles.  “Really?  That’s cool man!”

   Jim’s daughter Amy is confused, “Wait,” she says to me, “You’re a pastor?  A preacher?  Someone who preaches in a church?” 

   "Yep,” I answer, “You should hear my Star Wars Sermons!” 

   Amy shakes her head, “What are you doing here?  You know what kind of show this is?”  I nod.  Amy continues to look at me with confusion.  Jim and I continue to talk about our love for heavy metal, the shows he’s been to, and about our love for our families. 

   As it nears time for the doors to open we notice more people getting in line, with some looking for places to cut in line.  They look like a rowdy bunch.  I’m still a newbie but I sensed trouble.  Jim did too and he immediately warns me, “It may be rowdy.”  

   Amy starts getting nervous and asks her dad to stick close by.  He said he would but Amy still looked nervous.  Overhearing this I tell them, “Don’t worry Amy.  I’ll keep an eye on you too.”  I meant it.  These were my new friends, and friends look out for each other.  Besides, what would Jesus do?

The doors open and we walk in, thankful to be out of the cold.  I am just a couple of feet away from the fence that separates the crowd from the stage.  I can barely contain my excitement!  I am also aware that I am in the “mosh pit.”  No sitting here either; you stand, you jump, you cheer, you survive.  Jim and Amy are in front of me; Jim ready with his fancy camera, Amy staying close to her dad.  Then the show begins, first with Avatar.  

Avatar.  These guys rock!!!

It was awesome head-banging glory from this band from Sweden.  Avatar bangs their heads so well that their long hair spins like windmills in perfect sync.  For an opening act I’m impressed and immediately become a fan!  I am jumping, cheering, and even banging my head a little bit (can you imagine?).  Amy looks at me like I am a creature from another planet and I would start laughing.  The band would yell, "Let's see your horns!"  So I lifted mine (both fists) and cheered.  Amy looked and thought I was breaking a pastoral oath or something.  I replied, "All you have to do is shift your thumb over and it's the Wolfpack symbol!"  That earned a few laughs from people nearby.  Jim looked back at me and nodded, giving me the look of, “Yeah, you get it.”  The crowd was actually quite respectful.  Then a pause, and the concert grew in awesomeness!

Then out came Lacuna Coil.  The mosh pit got a little tighter, but it was even better!  Seeing Lacuna Coil live was better than my greatest expectations.  The sounds, the bass, the screaming of fans we together shouted and screamed the words to their amazing hit "Spellbound," definitely within the top 20 events of my life.  To be united with fellow fans from across the country (as far as Louisiana, Virginia, New Hampshire, and Florida as I chatted with fans in line), there aren't proper words to describe this emotional high.  I didn't want it to end, but as all good things must, the show ended.

 Then after Lacuna Coil departed, things changed quickly.

   The mosh pit grew even tighter and new faces emerged in the crowd.  Jim looked back at me and mouthed the words, “It's going to get rowdy!”  Amy definitely looked nervous, so I braced myself.  Then out came Sevendust, an amazing band from Atlanta.  

 

Sevendust, what awesome rockers!  Definitely worth checking out!

   It starts out well, more of the glorious metal music that rocks my soul.  Then came trouble.  A large crowd of 20 year olds rushed toward the stage, pushing people aside to get as close as possible.  The same rowdy bunch.  I have a serious pet peeve with line cutters and this was no different, so I held my ground as they tried to shove to get in front of me and eventually squeezed to my right.  Jerks.  Now a little protocol in mosh pit etiquette; up until now we were jumping up and down, cheering and screaming, all in good fun.  Now this rowdy bunch is not content to jump up and down, they want to swing their bodies in circles, bouncing off of anyone and everyone in a mad frenzy, including me and my new friends.  This is a different kind of mosh pit....uy

    As they begin their frenzied mosh pit chaos, I find myself watching Sevendust less and being more mindful of the jerks.  They bounce off of each other, and that’s fine.  But they are soon bouncing into other concert goers too who aren't happy to see them (like me).  Since the rowdies are already an aggressive bunch, it’s a recipe for trouble.  Security is already watching them (beside me and throughout the mosh pit, shining their flashlights on trouble spots for the muscle to head to), but their response time is going to be limited with the size of the crowd (estimated to be 1500 people by Ziggy’s own count).

Then the fights break out; 1 over there, 2 over there, but most of them are happening behind me.  Usually it's someone gets bumped into really hard, balance is lost, a few profanities are let loose, and they chill.  But some of the fights escalate into shoving, and then the fists and tackling are added.  I just know a real fight will start next to me...and it does.  To my right, two of those 20 year olds start screaming, shoving, and then tackle each other.  Without thinking I swing Amy behind me so I am between her and the two idiots going at it.  My thoughts are, “Protect Amy…and...How would I explain a black eye to my church?!”  Security sweeps in quickly, grabs the two rowdies in fierce headlocks and drags them out into the cold.  That alone was worth the show!  I ask Amy if she’s okay.  She nods, smiles and says, “Thank you!” 

We get back to the show, still full of the bouncing rowdies but it’s already becoming more “civil.”  Sevendust also threw a dozen guitar picks into the crowd.  One hits me in the chest and I quietly pocket it while 7-8 people drop to their knees looking for it.  I pretend to look on the ground to thinking, "If they know I got it they'll kill me!"  "Where is it?" one asks.  "I don't see it!" I reply.  I was being honest....I can't see it in my pocket.  Well, I got away with it!

   Sevendust ends the show shortly after midnight and the crowd leaves.   The dispersal is kind of sudden.  Amy turns to me, gives me a hug, and says, “You protected me!  Thank you!”  I was happy to help.  Jim shakes my hand, thanks me, and asks me what I thought of the show.  I’ll let you guess as to my response. 

We then head to the merchandise table to buy CDs and T-shirts.  To my surprise the band Avatar is up there just hanging out!  So Jim, Amy, and I join the band with a few other fans after getting our T-shirts and began chatting with the band and fellow fans.
Amy looks at me as I ogle over my first heavy metal band T-shirts and shakes her head.  “What?” I ask.

“It’s just weird, having a preacher here.  I don’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?” I ask.

“It’s like, with this kind of music, you don’t expect a preacher to be here.”

“I agree!”  we laughed.

Shortly later someone near us sneezed really loudly.  We both say “Bless you!” at the same time.  Amy looks at me and laughs saying, “With you saying ‘bless you,’ that really means something!”

I shrug, “I think it meant something coming from you too.”

“No, not from me.  I’m not as…holy as you,” said Amy.

I shake my head, “No, I am not that holy.”

“You’re more holy than me.”

“I don’t think so,” I answered.

Amy sighs and looks at me saying, “Just to let you know, about ‘God,’ or whatever is up there, we don’t get along.”

   “Why do you say that?” I ask.

   Amy takes her hands and makes little wing shapes on her back. “I think for me, I have little angel wings,” and then she makes horn shapes on her head, “but I have really long devil horns.  I’m a bit of both.”

I nod my head and say, “Then we have something in common.”

   Amy gives me a skeptical teenager look and says, “You CAN’T say that.  You’re a preacher.”

   “Yes I can, because it’s true.  I am not perfect.  I make mistakes, I screw up.  God made me to do good, but I sometimes screw up and do the wrong thing.  So I have wings and horns too.  I ask God everyday to help me so I can become a better person, and get rid of my devil horns.”

   “Well I think God wouldn't listen to me.”

   “I think He has,” I answered.

   “He hasn't before.  He doesn't listen to someone like me.”

   “I don’t think so,” I replied, “Because God just gave you a friend in me.  Seriously.  That counts for something doesn't it?”

   Amy thinks for a moment, shrugs, rolls her eyes and says, “I guess.”  I see her smile though.  That was enough, and we moved on to talk about music some more.  The night soon ended as I excused myself.  Jim and Amy invited me to stay longer, but I told them with a wink that I had to “work tomorrow.”  There's nothing like leading worship and serving communion on only 4 hours of sleep!  

I've reflected much on that night, and there are a couple of things worth noting;

1.  I didn't come to the Lacuna Coil concert with the explicit goal of sharing Christ.  I wasn't even going to make a big deal of being a pastor there (I'm trying to keep it from becoming a chip on my shoulder).  Instead I came to Ziggy’s to enjoy some heavy metal music with other fans.  At the same time, I wasn't going to diminish my spiritual nature, or become less of a Christian while I was there.  My mind and heart was still on God.  Still, when you put yourself in these situations you are going to be tested, and that can be a good thing.

2.  I have no clue how Jim and Amy are doing today, and that’s okay.  I believe that God’s taking care of them.  If I represented Jesus well that night, that's cool, and that's Him working through me, not of my own doing.  Seeds were planted that night, and they went both ways.  I discovered some awesome and loving people that night that I would have never met in my usual circles, and I continue to treasure these brief but powerful encounters.

3.  Will I go to another concert like this?  It's very likely, but I'm extremely picky with my bands and venues, so it may be some time.  I'm open to it, and wherever I go I pray that God will use me there too.

PS, if there's a heavy metal concert nearby and you are looking for someone to join you, drop me a line!  :)

Water water everywhere in the Holy Land, and the reality of Manna

(Note; this isn't exactly what I preached on but thematically it is close.  Overall this is something I've talked a lot about with my friends at Liberty, so this is written to be a little more inclusive).

When I travelled to the Holy Land a week ago, of all of the things that surprised me, the one that really took me for a loop was the abundant presence of water.  It was kind of a build up.  We started in the cities (Bethlehem, Jerusalem, the wilderness), and it's city and desert.

Water?  Nope, not at first anyway.  This worked against me, because at the beginning of our pilgrimage I was really REALLY thirsty.  On the plane ride over I was parched (didn't know about the water available at the back of the plane, *facepalm).  When we landed I immediately loaded my water bottle with the tap water from the restroom.  If it's good enough to wash my hands, that's good enough for me!

It wasn't 5 minutes after boarding our bus when Deeb our tour guide warns us about the hardness of the tap-water.  Well I'm thirsty, so I deal with it, and had no problems.  Still, this was a nation without water fountains, which my parched tongue noticed often.  Sink water from the restrooms became my salvation; as beggars can't be choosers. (there was bottled water available but I'm a cheapskate when it comes to bottled water).

Then in the desert it looked even drier!  The riverbeds were bone dry (perhaps flooding made them, but it made me thirstier).  The air was devoid of moisture.  I wasn't even sure how the plants were able to grow out here.  I felt like wilting at times.

Uy, where is the water?!!!  Then, we came to the Jordan River.  And there was the water, cool and swift, and life grew all around it.  We traveled past Jericho, and the land became greener as the water fed the land, which in turn feed the people.

Then there was the Sea of Galilee, grander and more beautiful than my imagination could ever conjure.  A day later we travelled to the ancient city of Dan to see water gushing under our feet and running downstream to feed the waters we passed.  The sounds of water running over the rocks took my mind back home to the rivers of Dupont State Forest.  Even under the city of Jerusalem I watched the water flowing from the great spring under the city!  Water water everywhere!....and there is not enough to drink.


Dr. James Howell shared with us an article from the NYTimes about the water situation in Israel/Palestine and Jordan.  The reality isn't pretty; water is being wasted and mismanaged, both for drinking and handling waste.  He also described to me, if someone dug a new irrigation ditch it would create a political crisis.  And yet as this article describes, with a little management there would be enough for everyone if it wasn't hoarded or wasted.  However, we have a hard time sharing.  What does this mean for the well-meaning Christian?

God taught us about what it means to hoard the blessings and mercies He gives us.  Remember when the Israelites were wandering about in the Desert after escaping slavery in Egypt?  They were kind of whinny, but God showed them incredible mercy during this time, and as the excellent Bible Study "Manna and Mercy" describes, this time was a teaching tool to prepare these people to become God's people.

As they were fully dependent on God for their survival, God let bread from heaven called Manna fall from the sky to feed the multitude.  The rules were clear, gather only as much as you needed (one omer per person).  If you hoard extra manna, you not only keep it from those who need it, the extra hoarded manna would graphically rot (Exodus 16; 16-20)!  Extra gathering was only allowed for Sabbath rest and feasting, not because you were scared of hunger tomorrow.  The manna kept falling.  Hoarding was the way of Pharaoh, not of God's people.

We all hoard the blessings and necessities of life for the same reason; the fear of not having enough for one's self.  While that may be the world's way, it's not God's way.  I say this not to condemn you but to call myself out.  I am a hoarder; of my time, my resources, at times even my faith.  I sometimes fear that the well from which my soul is nourished will run dry.  In this world of sluggish economies perhaps that is understandable.  While hoarding and fending for yourself may seem logical and safe, it's not the path that Christ laid out for us.  To follow Christ isn't to reserve and protect, it's about sharing and being merciful.

At Jacob's Well Jesus came across a woman who was drawing water (John 4).  Now I had the honor of seeing Jacob's Well.  It's a LONG way to draw the water (count 4 Mississippi's to hit the bottom), and Jesus asks the woman drawing the water for a drink.  She's very annoyed; there are racial barriers being challenged here (Jew and Samaritan), he doesn't have a bucket so she'll have to lend hers (must I share, ugh!), and when he offers "living water" when she replies sarcastically.  Better to save the hard earned bucket-water for her boyfriend and herself, and not with this presumptuous stranger.  But as she listens to his words, she remembers her long-ignored faith, and the promise of living water became less fantasy and more real.  So forget the world's rules, she does something crazy.  She doesn't say, "I'll go home and think about it privately," or, "I need some guarantee that you are the Messiah before I tell anyone, " she drops her bucket and runs into town and tells EVERYONE, "Come and see!"

The living water which reminds me so much of manna will quench every parched tongue in this Samaritan city, and no one here will go thirsty.  Even the bucket that my dear friend Todd drew up from Jacob's Well seemed insufficient in the water needed to serve the 30+ of us, (in my mind it looked a little short), it was more than enough.

Water is awesome; we drink it, bathe in it, play in it, even our bodies are mostly made up of it.  Water is life, and the life God wants us to have is one shared.  It's what I pray will be realized for the people of the Holy Land, for the people I love here in North Carolina, and I hope that I will allow to happen within me.  Let us share the Living Water, and seriously SHARE IT, and avoid the well-intended trappings of hoarding and rot.

Sources;  http://www.nytimes.com/2014/02/09/opinion/sunday/friedman-whose-garbage-is-this-anyway.html?ref=opinion&_r=1.  Thanks Rev. James Howell for sharing this with us!

http://danielerlander.com/manna.html.  Daniel Erlander's "Manna and Mercy" Bible Study is the best darn Bible Study I've ever used.  Dr. Peter Storey at Duke Divinity School introduced it to me back in the day, and I highly recommend it.

Last Day (9); God surprising us with His presence at unexpected places.

Day 9. Last Day; God surprising us with His presence at unexpected places.

Today is last day. I'm pinning this now while in flight from Tel Aviv to Newark (and finished proofreading and correcting  at home). What a day, wow.

Well, last breakfast in Jerusalem (scrambled eggs, toast, not very hungry) and we board the bus for our last day in this ancient city. It might be fair to describe today as a Crusader day, as their influence is everywhere when it comes to remembering Jesus' on Good Friday and Easter.

We began by first going to the Pools of Bethesda. Here is the the Church of the 5 Pools, the place where Jesus did more healings (such as the man who was crippled for 38 years, remembered in the Gospel of John 5). It's also called the Church of St Anne. Why Anne? Because  Anne comes from Hebrew: Hannah, who was Mary's mom. This is also the birthplace of the Virgin Mary.

Now this is a Crusader church, built when the Crusaders had invaded and conquered Jerusalem, built 1100 AD. Now normally when we enter a church we walk around, take pictures, look at stuff. Instead our Bishop Larry Goodpaster instructs us to have a seat and be silent. He then tells us to listen to the acoustics. One voice, and it'll echo echo echo echo softly away. I've never heard sound echo so perfectly before. So we sang some church hymns in this holy place. For our 1st hymn I was like uy, really, Lord Prepare Me to be a Sanctuary? Now I have your attention! For me, I hear that hymn ALL the time. It's just not my hymn. Granted it sounded amazing, but not my thing. Then the bishop turns to Deeb and says something to the effect, "This is for you Deeb." And we sang then 2 verses of How Great Thou Art. That moved us all to tears, it was so powerful, so amazing. I felt such incredible grace and overwhelming love. We heard the voice of God in that simple Crusader church. 

Then we took pictures. 

After that we got to spend some time exploring the ruins of the pools. Found out that the Crusader church was built on the ruins of a giant Byzantine church that even covered the pools. The Romans knew how to channel and store water, and this was no exception.

"Oh no, one of the arches was weakening! Who will save us? Daa da da, it's-

Brad!!!!" Good thing I've been working out! Feeling very manly now. Grrr! You gotta goof off sometimes people.

This then became the starting point of the Stations of the Cross journey. Maybe you have heard of it. It's a trek through the streets of Jerusalem that follows Jesus' journey from his trial, flogging, carrying the cross and to his crucifixion. Are these the actual streets Jesus walked on Good Friday? I can tell you emphatically no. Wrong side of the city actually. So it's it worth it? Yes, as Deeb constantly reminded us it is in remembering the story through faith we find meaning. I also see it as being part of a 1000 year old Passion Play. Doesn't that sound cool? One exception though, the destination is spot on, Golgotha (or Calvary, which is Latin for the same name).

We first start underground below the present day city to see an ancient Roman road. See the two groves. They're made by carriages. I'm sure I let out an audible "whoa!"

The trial and flogging of Jesus is remembered here. We then moved above ground to follow the path of the cross (no actual crosses were used for our trip, but people carrying actual crosses is actually common, especially on Sundays).

As we traveled we went under a Roman arch. The Romans love their arches.

Note that the city built around and over it. That's how Jerusalem is today, the old and new intertwining into a dizzying effect. This is why it's easy to get lost here.

At this station is one of the spots where Jesus fell (there are 3 spots).

See where our guide Deeb is putting his hand. The tradition is that when Jesus fell while carrying the cross he put his hand on the wall there to rest and support himself.

We continued our journey through the Old City and some familiar territory heading toward the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

What's cool about this church? It's the church that's literally built on top of Golgotha. It's also a collection of churches, one built on top of another, old and newer. Check this out, standing outside the church Deeb shows that we are standing on the roof of one of the old churches. See the dome on the right? That would have been the top of it.

It's at this point our bishop, James, and Deeb all say, "Expect shoving and line cutters. Don't let them." One of the holiest places in Christendom and we have to deal with jerks? Wait and see. Deeb also shared another fact; the church is actually shared by 6 denominations. Whoa. Sounds cool right? Well, the thing is that if you move one picture, one chair, or do anything different here at the church, all 6 must agree. So how often do things change? Well... look at this;

See the ladder below the window? It's been there over 100 years. There is no agreement on who should move it or why, so it's stuck. It's both funny and embarrassing at the same time. Some of our home churches can get in that rut too you know.

After that we come into the church, first passing some Ethopian chapels.

We are there around noon, which may be the best time to visit as the crowd was actually fairly light. Lunchtime for everyone else! Then we enter the main sanctuary and it's huge!

Remember this was built on a steep hill,  so it rises with the rock. Now almost all the rock of Golgotha is completely covered up by the church, except at the very top. One small section is visible under glass, and another is next to it under a small home where you can't see it but can touch it. That's where we head, and so do some people hoping to jump in front of us.

The rock I told you about is to the right of this picture. What you do is line up on the right of the room, travel to the corner and turn left, take your turn at the front with the rock and quickly move on. It's a wide hall, so that's where line jumpers prepared to move in. So us young clergy made a solid wall of bodies and bookbags to block them off! We are the line police! Honestly they would try to squeeze and we would stop them. I have a serious pet peeve with line jumpers, so I considered this to be a public service. To the right of the rock is the Virgin Mary, a sword in her heart symbolizing her incalculable grief.

Somehow I ended up in position to be one of the first to see the rock of Golgotha and touch it.

That last picture is the hole, a tiny hole. I felt kind of weird about it. I mean, who likes to stick their hand in a hole? Well I kneel down to do so. I had to stretch my arm a bit and I felt the stone of Golgotha. It was smooth and polished from the millions of hands who have touched it, millions and I remembering at this place is where Jesus suffered on the cross because he loved us. Soon after my fingers brushed on something lose. It was a coin left behind by a pilgrim. I briefly held it in my fingers, prayed for the person who left it and returned it to the stone.

I joined my fellow clergy and watched the priests from the Armenian and Orthodox churches spread smoking incense across the place. I loved the sweet aromas of the incense. Word of advice though, they'll run you over if you aren't watching. They swing those incense things at wide angles. Respect the clergy or you'll get whacked!

Back downstairs at the main level are two extrodinary sites. First we went into an ancient burial tomb.

It has been uncovered next to Golgotha and the gospels tell us the tomb Jesus was laid in was right next door. Now this is NOT the tomb Jesus was laid in (more on that in a moment) but here you get a since of what it would have looked like. Some think this was Joseph of Aramethia's tomb (the follower of Jesus who allowed his body to be placed in his own purchased tomb). Here is inside the tiny tomb.

It's not Jesus's tomb, but it is empty of death and filled with the intimate light of prayer candles. I found that to be wonderfully fitting. Now what about Jesus's tomb? Well inside the church at the ground floor next to this other one is a giant dome chapel that contains the stone of Jesus's tomb.

It's just a stone, all that's left. See how long the line is? That's an hour and a half wait there. We don't have that time. But there's a cool hidden secret; behind this building in the picture (around to the right)  is a small chapel built into it, and it's run by the Coptic Orthodox Church. Here at the wall adjacent to the stone-containing church at the bottom you can touch the bottom of the tomb stone! And there is no line at all! We all took advantage. Very cool! After I did I stepped out and raised my phone and a cranky priest says, "No photo! No photo!" Really, again?!!! It's like the only English some people know. Ugh! I get why, I just strongly disagree, but I didn't take a picture. Hope the guy is happy... Google it or something if you want to see it. (I'm still greatly annoyed by that).

We then left the church and were on our own for lunch in the Old City. I ate falafel and sesame bread with Zatar (the "green stuff"). Cheap and delicious! We then walked through the Old City toward the last stop on our trip. Passing a spice shop I saw this.

That's a spice pyramid people! Food can be pretty.

Our last stop is at the Garden Tomb. This is another site where Golgotha may be located. It was discovered in 1867, near the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem (outside the 1st century city limits). The discoverer said this hill looks like the eyes and nose of a skull

...and there is an old temple of early Christian church era underground in the hill that fits the description of the Gospel account;

Now is this the place where Jesus died and was buried? I'm with the majority view of archeologists and scholars, no. Not a chance. There's a fair argument to be made, but it just doesn't hold water. I won't get into that here; though I will share why I'm even bringing this place up. It was worth going to because it is a beautiful place of lovely gardens maintained by non-profit groups 

...and here in this peaceful place we found the space to have our closing worship. You don't have to go to the Holy Land to feel the Holy Spirit. It helps and is totally worth going to, but God is not restrained by geography or authentic historical sites. When you open your heart and step out on faith, we become mindful of the Divine presence and receive it. We become part of the story of God's Word, and that's what loving for God and following Christ is about! Here we had prayer, worship, powerful preaching by my colleagues, and celebrated Holy Communion. And that closed our day, and our pilgrimage.

Footnote; if you followed me on Facebook you know that our return in Newark was a complete and utter disaster as our plane to take us to Charlotte never arrived. When we landed after 12+ hours flying back we basically scattered to the four corners of the airport world which created; long waits in airport terminals with uncertain futures, some of us getting home faster than others, and our group being broken up into smaller groups on different planes and sometimes different destinations. Complete misery, though the company helped.

The airplane gods love to curse Newark (and I'm kidding about the pagan references people. I'm being sarcastic, except for my lack of love for Newark. There's some superstitious curse at work there...maybe). But I'm home now, safe and sound, luggage too; though I'm exhausted and caffeinated to combat this nasty jetlag, and I'm still processing all of this. It will take a long time to sort what I've been through, perhaps a year, but my learnings, insights, I will share with you here as my brain and heart figure this out. I left with more questions than answers, as Deeb loved to tell us would happen.

In the meantime, there is no place like home. I'm so thankful for my wife Renee who supported and encouraged me and took on the task of packing by luggage;

 thankful to my son Will for his smiles and the big hug he gave me on my return; 

 thankful to my fellow clergy pilgrims who welcomed me into their lives and whom I am honored to call my friends; 

 thankful to our Bishop Larry Goodpaster who made this trip happen and shared his wisdom, faith and friendship with me; 

 thankful to Rev James Howell who shared his time, his insights, and friendship with me;

 thankful to several annonymous donors who provided the funds for me and my colleagues to come;

 thankful to my mother in law who provided transport to and from the airport and my father in law who prayed for me before I left, 

 thankful to my parents and sister for their amazing love and support for my pilgrimage, 

 thankful to my church Liberty UMC who prayed for me every day and showered me with support, 

 and lastly I'm thankful for you, dear reader! I have grown and learned much from your comments, insights, and enthusiasm. Your virtual presence gave me more energy to soldier forward, so thank you from the bottom of my heart. 

 And of course I'm thankful to God for loving me, which I'm sure you know that already, but it not, well He loves you too!

This is not the last entry about this pilgrimage; I have some early reflections which I'll pen in the coming days (also a top ten list or two, and tips for traveling to the Holy Land if you want to go), and additional pictures will be shared, so there is more to come! Until then, thank you, bless you, and Shalom.

(Our guide Deeb and I at the airport. So annoyed it's blurry, but I'll treasure his wisdom and friendship forever, and I'll treasure the blurry picture too).