On Sunday the clocks fell back an hour with eastern savings time. The clock on my computer made the adjustment automatically. But all the clocks in our house were off by an hour. That included the internal clocks that drive the awakenings of my family and me.
With the time change, and by rising early, I had expected to have an hour to myself that morning. It did not work out that way. Before I could get anywhere, my son emerged for breakfast, one daughter wandered in for a warm snuggle and even my self-described "not a morning person" wife was up and at 'em.
Rising an hour earlier than the rest of my house is what I now call, "The Daylight Savings Time Challenge." The challenge is to leave my alarm clock on last week's time and rise when it chimes. Last Saturday, that would have been 6:05. Sunday, with the time change, it was 5:05.
In large part, the challenge is owed to a conversation between Bob Edwards and Garrison Keillor during an interview on XM radio’s XMPR. Edwards asked how Keillor, an incredibly busy man could ever find time to write so prolifically. Keillor responded that he rises an hour earlier than the rest of his house - "If you get up an hour early, you can write a book."
The Edwards' question and Keillor's answer can be plugged into any number of conversations:
Q: Where do you find time to work on your masters? A: I get up an hour early.
Q: Where do you find time to run? A: I get up an hour early.
Q: Where do you find time to pray for your children? A: I get up an hour early.
The changing of the clocks seemed a good time to ease into it. I would just leave my watch set to Daylight Savings Time and let my body take advantage of that extra hour in the morning.
I find it’s natural to stay up late doing unimportant things (Sudoku, fantasy baseball). But, I won’t get up early unless it’s important. When I was a boy, I would rise well before first light on bitter mornings to hunt. But rarely would I ever do the same to study. Hunting was important to me. Studying not so much. These days, I’d fallen into a similar dilemma in my quiet times with God. I would rise early to run or workout. Exercise was important to me. But what about time with God?
On Sunday, Pastor Josh Christiansen (http://www.orlandocommunitychurch.org/) described how we fall into a devil's trap when we let a good thing (like running) be done to the exclusion of the most important thing. Early in Mark's gospel, we learn of something that was important to Jesus.
Mark 1:35 In the early morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house, and went away to a secluded place, and was praying there.
So the changing of the clocks seems like a good time to put some things back in order – the Daylight Savings Time Challenge.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
my wife the model
From notes written June 23, 2009...
Today, a run will be hard to come by. Slate grey clouds roll in from the northwest dropping rain so heavy that I heard it well before I saw it. Thunder rattles my windows.
Why run, anyway?
There are good reasons. It cleans me out. I wind up thanking God for the motion and the heat – such a contrast to the sedentary way I spend my work day fastened to a desk breathing conditioned air. It’s good to do something tough. Running hurts, but the pain lasts just a few minutes and the pain gives way to endorphins (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Endorphin).
Not always true for some of the tough hands life deals us. We had one of those hands dealt to us last week.
I had come home at midday to watch the kids so my wife of 20 years could make a followup visit regarding a mammogram. The test results had not been good. But when she came home with news from the doctor, I was shocked. The doctor prescribed a mastectomy. My bones and muscles practically liquefied. We discussed it for a long time – even mourned. But amid all of this, I had to get back to work.
After quitting time, when I returned home, I expected the worst. Instead, my wife astonished me. The house was tidy. The kids were quiet. She was on the phone putting together a grocery list for a family that has bigger problems than we have.
No one would have blamed her if she’d retired with her news, closed the bedroom door, shut off the world and holed up with her feelings. But when I arrived, there she sat working on someone else’s problems.
What a model.
Hebrews talks about Jesus running up ahead of us and how we should keep our eyes on Him to teach us how we should go. But Jesus came in first and many of us aren’t running at that pace yet. But back in the pack, every race has other runners to follow - runners who are not as fast as the winner, but who nonetheless run with their eyes on the prize - runners who, for the joy of what awaits them at the finish, run with purpose and even laughter - runners in whom others can see bits of the victor - runners who we can tuck-in behind and hang on as they pull us to the finish.
On that day, I tucked in behind my wife who was one of those runners to me.
Later that day, I ran 3.6 miles. It felt like 10K. My Nikes felt like weighted diving boots (http://www.divingmachines.com/dates2.JPG). But, I ran. When I finished, I felt relieved and cleansed (endorphins!). Gradually that feeling went away.But days later, the feeling of amazement that I felt from watching my wife still lingers. The bad news remains, but it doesn’t hang from me like it did before I saw her thinking of others. If she could think of others at a time like that, then I guess I can handle what life has in store for me, too.
Today, a run will be hard to come by. Slate grey clouds roll in from the northwest dropping rain so heavy that I heard it well before I saw it. Thunder rattles my windows.
Why run, anyway?
There are good reasons. It cleans me out. I wind up thanking God for the motion and the heat – such a contrast to the sedentary way I spend my work day fastened to a desk breathing conditioned air. It’s good to do something tough. Running hurts, but the pain lasts just a few minutes and the pain gives way to endorphins (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Endorphin).
Not always true for some of the tough hands life deals us. We had one of those hands dealt to us last week.
I had come home at midday to watch the kids so my wife of 20 years could make a followup visit regarding a mammogram. The test results had not been good. But when she came home with news from the doctor, I was shocked. The doctor prescribed a mastectomy. My bones and muscles practically liquefied. We discussed it for a long time – even mourned. But amid all of this, I had to get back to work.
After quitting time, when I returned home, I expected the worst. Instead, my wife astonished me. The house was tidy. The kids were quiet. She was on the phone putting together a grocery list for a family that has bigger problems than we have.
No one would have blamed her if she’d retired with her news, closed the bedroom door, shut off the world and holed up with her feelings. But when I arrived, there she sat working on someone else’s problems.
What a model.
Hebrews talks about Jesus running up ahead of us and how we should keep our eyes on Him to teach us how we should go. But Jesus came in first and many of us aren’t running at that pace yet. But back in the pack, every race has other runners to follow - runners who are not as fast as the winner, but who nonetheless run with their eyes on the prize - runners who, for the joy of what awaits them at the finish, run with purpose and even laughter - runners in whom others can see bits of the victor - runners who we can tuck-in behind and hang on as they pull us to the finish.
On that day, I tucked in behind my wife who was one of those runners to me.
Later that day, I ran 3.6 miles. It felt like 10K. My Nikes felt like weighted diving boots (http://www.divingmachines.com/dates2.JPG). But, I ran. When I finished, I felt relieved and cleansed (endorphins!). Gradually that feeling went away.But days later, the feeling of amazement that I felt from watching my wife still lingers. The bad news remains, but it doesn’t hang from me like it did before I saw her thinking of others. If she could think of others at a time like that, then I guess I can handle what life has in store for me, too.
The spiritual side of running
Years ago, I learned that there is a spiritual aspect to running. The lesson came courtesy of old-friend Paul Emery. Paul has always been off on one adventure or another and he always tries to drag others along with him. Somehow, Paul dragged me into his adventure de jour - training with John Christiansen to run a marathon.
Training with them began a pattern that lasted for about 9 months - rise before first light every other Saturday then wait under the street lamp in front of my house for John and Paul to run by. They'd come into view and I'd clamp-in and hold on for the trip. I soon learned that when these guys said they were going to run around town, they meant they were going to run AROUND town.
I also learned that it was natural through the hours and miles to talk about our lives and the people we touch. And every so often, John would respond by beginning to pray. We'd be huffing along, having just spoken about some problem or loved one and John would start, "Oh Lord Jesus, we ask..."
For me, prayer had always been either whisper or thought - rarely ever louder than a murmur. But these prayers were preceded by the heavy inhales of a 12 or 14 mile run and they were issued on the heavy exhales that followed. These prayers came from the diaphragm and most began with that "Oh" that comes from deep in the lungs and perhaps from deep in the soul. We prayed, not in our Sunday best, but in our sweatty mess. The rhythm of the prayers was not from a piano or pipe organ, but from the pounding of our feet and the punctuation came courtesy of the measure of our breath.
I learned from these guys that long runs lend themselves to thought and introspection. And I soon found it natural, while training by myself, to ponder and sometimes to pray. In the intervening years, my training has waxed and waned.
There have been times when I have sensed God encourage me to "run distances - it's like meditation." I have acted on that only in rare stretches.
But I was brought back to it again about two weeks ago. It was after church and dressed in my Sunday best, when I could feel my midsection pressing out against my belt. In the previous months, I had run consistently, but in short bursts of about 20 -25 minutes. I was in good shape, but not keeping the weight off. So I grabbed our friends, Jon and Betsy Hughes (http://www.trackshack.com/) and asked them if there was anything about my running that I might tweak for the sake of my waist line.
They basically encourage me to do the I'd sensed from God - run distances. So I've begun once again to build up my distance.
Once again, I find that when the run's uneven and frenetic start is behind me, and when the finish is still way out there, and when there is nothing to do but settle in with pace and patience, then the thinking begins in earnest. It IS like meditation. Perhaps, as with yoga, it's all in the breathing. Whatever it is, people come to mind - a cloud of witnesses - and it is natural to pray for them or praise Him with an "Oh" that begins from deep down inside.
Training with them began a pattern that lasted for about 9 months - rise before first light every other Saturday then wait under the street lamp in front of my house for John and Paul to run by. They'd come into view and I'd clamp-in and hold on for the trip. I soon learned that when these guys said they were going to run around town, they meant they were going to run AROUND town.
I also learned that it was natural through the hours and miles to talk about our lives and the people we touch. And every so often, John would respond by beginning to pray. We'd be huffing along, having just spoken about some problem or loved one and John would start, "Oh Lord Jesus, we ask..."
For me, prayer had always been either whisper or thought - rarely ever louder than a murmur. But these prayers were preceded by the heavy inhales of a 12 or 14 mile run and they were issued on the heavy exhales that followed. These prayers came from the diaphragm and most began with that "Oh" that comes from deep in the lungs and perhaps from deep in the soul. We prayed, not in our Sunday best, but in our sweatty mess. The rhythm of the prayers was not from a piano or pipe organ, but from the pounding of our feet and the punctuation came courtesy of the measure of our breath.
I learned from these guys that long runs lend themselves to thought and introspection. And I soon found it natural, while training by myself, to ponder and sometimes to pray. In the intervening years, my training has waxed and waned.
There have been times when I have sensed God encourage me to "run distances - it's like meditation." I have acted on that only in rare stretches.
But I was brought back to it again about two weeks ago. It was after church and dressed in my Sunday best, when I could feel my midsection pressing out against my belt. In the previous months, I had run consistently, but in short bursts of about 20 -25 minutes. I was in good shape, but not keeping the weight off. So I grabbed our friends, Jon and Betsy Hughes (http://www.trackshack.com/) and asked them if there was anything about my running that I might tweak for the sake of my waist line.
They basically encourage me to do the I'd sensed from God - run distances. So I've begun once again to build up my distance.
Once again, I find that when the run's uneven and frenetic start is behind me, and when the finish is still way out there, and when there is nothing to do but settle in with pace and patience, then the thinking begins in earnest. It IS like meditation. Perhaps, as with yoga, it's all in the breathing. Whatever it is, people come to mind - a cloud of witnesses - and it is natural to pray for them or praise Him with an "Oh" that begins from deep down inside.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
breathing, running, and believing
You’d think that running starts in your legs. But really it’s in your lungs. In fact, the first key to running the race may be measured breathing. Let breathing get out whack or get away from you, and you’re lost. But concentrate on it – pace yourself with it – and you may be off to the races. That’s what Pastor John Christiansen said on Sunday as he discussed the parallels of trying to run marathons and trying to run the race God sets before us. His words rung true to me.
I can remember about twenty years ago, when I was first trying to learn to run distances. A good friend, a veteran of many races and long runs, ran beside me. He was older and under control. I was younger and struggling to keep up. So, he explained how he pushed and paced himself. He said he did it with his breathing – inhale on two steps, exhale on four. Over and over, he kept his feet moving in pace with his breath and metered his breath according to the rhythm of his feet. I tried that and found it worked – I could settle in to a pace that was a push, but measured and tolerable – and faster than when I’d just flail along. Perhaps it was because my body “knew” that air was taken care of and it could concentrate on other things.
I recall another conversation from ten years before that. I was trying to learn to walk with God and a good friend was coming alongside. School was almost over and we’d soon go our own ways. He knew I was going to need help if I was going to run the race and He wanted me to know I didn’t need to run alone. So, he told me about the Holy Spirit and how God had sent Him as my helper. Then my friend told me that I could “breathe in the Holy Spirit.” I have never forgotten that. I later learned that God “breathed life into Adam’s nostrils,” and that when God first sent the Holy Spirit to help the disciples, it arrived as “a mighty rushing wind.”
I have never taken this idea literally – that I can inhale the Holy Spirit. But I have often remembered that I could breathe God in like a prayer even at times that I couldn’t utter one. And just as paced breathing quickened my running, breathing in the Spirit quickened my spirit. I have since found that it is a little like a prayer - I breathe in a full deep breath, hoping God will fill me like my lungs. And it is a little like an attitude adjustment – as getting on my knees reminds me of where I stand with God, breathing Him in reminds me that He is as close as the air I breathe. And it is a little bit of faith – that if he breathed life into Adam’s nostrils and sent the Holy Spirit like a might rushing wind, then perhaps with this breath, He will come into me.
I can remember about twenty years ago, when I was first trying to learn to run distances. A good friend, a veteran of many races and long runs, ran beside me. He was older and under control. I was younger and struggling to keep up. So, he explained how he pushed and paced himself. He said he did it with his breathing – inhale on two steps, exhale on four. Over and over, he kept his feet moving in pace with his breath and metered his breath according to the rhythm of his feet. I tried that and found it worked – I could settle in to a pace that was a push, but measured and tolerable – and faster than when I’d just flail along. Perhaps it was because my body “knew” that air was taken care of and it could concentrate on other things.
I recall another conversation from ten years before that. I was trying to learn to walk with God and a good friend was coming alongside. School was almost over and we’d soon go our own ways. He knew I was going to need help if I was going to run the race and He wanted me to know I didn’t need to run alone. So, he told me about the Holy Spirit and how God had sent Him as my helper. Then my friend told me that I could “breathe in the Holy Spirit.” I have never forgotten that. I later learned that God “breathed life into Adam’s nostrils,” and that when God first sent the Holy Spirit to help the disciples, it arrived as “a mighty rushing wind.”
I have never taken this idea literally – that I can inhale the Holy Spirit. But I have often remembered that I could breathe God in like a prayer even at times that I couldn’t utter one. And just as paced breathing quickened my running, breathing in the Spirit quickened my spirit. I have since found that it is a little like a prayer - I breathe in a full deep breath, hoping God will fill me like my lungs. And it is a little like an attitude adjustment – as getting on my knees reminds me of where I stand with God, breathing Him in reminds me that He is as close as the air I breathe. And it is a little bit of faith – that if he breathed life into Adam’s nostrils and sent the Holy Spirit like a might rushing wind, then perhaps with this breath, He will come into me.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
RUNNING CONSPICUOSLY
I want my children to grow up thinking of me (and themselves) as runners – for running to be woven into their fabric. Athleticism is something that can be passed along. My father did that for me.
When I was a little boy on summer vacation, Dad would play hours of tennis in a pair of knee-length cutoff jeans and Sperry deck shoes until the sweat poured off of him in sheets. He reveled in the effort, even in the perspiration.
My father was quite a man and quite a forerunner. He was conspicuous about it and he rubbed off on me. I am six years removed from my father’s death and I am 40 years removed from those summer days. But his exertion remains a thread woven into my fabric and it is visible every afternoon when I step out into the heat and sweat pours from me as I run.
Now it is my turn to be conspicuous.
Recently, while tying on my sneaks on a Sunday afternoon, my oldest asked if she could ride along with me. My first inclination was to go alone -- running is practically meditation for me. But I hope to rub off on her too, so I said, “Sure.” She left behind a friend with our youngest daughter, put on her helmet, climbed aboard her pink flowered bike with the wide, knobby tires and off we went, just we two.
Along the way, she remarked on things I see silently so often – Lee Middle School getting rebuilt, the tidy houses on the right that were once so rundown, the vegetable garden that I always stop to look at, the clean scent of the lake…
She’d see and remark, then we’d talk – new things to her, but to me, things I see so often. The conversation flowed from her, though I labored to speak as I huffed/puffed and the sweat poured... and a hope kindled - that perhaps many years removed from now, she will recall that this is what we do. Perhaps someday, she and some little follower of her own will run and that they will both accrue all the benefits.
There is a spiritual parallel…
Recently when I was headed out the door with my journal (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moleskine) and our Labrador for a morning walk and quiet time when my youngest daughter asked if she could walk along with me. My first inclination was to go alone – the morning walk is often the only meditation time that I take to focus on God. But I hope to rub off on her. So I grabbed my daughter and my Moleskine and my dog and off we went.
Along the way, we remarked on things I silently journal every so often as a sort of prayer to God – the names of people with problems, the things for which I’m thankful, the circumstances that scare me, the fresh morning…
It was hard to talk about these things – these things are so familiar to me as I silently journal, but hard to put into words. Still the conversation did flow. I hoped I was being conspicuous enough. That perhaps she and some little follower of her own will one day walk and talk about their prayers and that they will both accrue all the benefits.
When I was a little boy on summer vacation, Dad would play hours of tennis in a pair of knee-length cutoff jeans and Sperry deck shoes until the sweat poured off of him in sheets. He reveled in the effort, even in the perspiration.
My father was quite a man and quite a forerunner. He was conspicuous about it and he rubbed off on me. I am six years removed from my father’s death and I am 40 years removed from those summer days. But his exertion remains a thread woven into my fabric and it is visible every afternoon when I step out into the heat and sweat pours from me as I run.
Now it is my turn to be conspicuous.
Recently, while tying on my sneaks on a Sunday afternoon, my oldest asked if she could ride along with me. My first inclination was to go alone -- running is practically meditation for me. But I hope to rub off on her too, so I said, “Sure.” She left behind a friend with our youngest daughter, put on her helmet, climbed aboard her pink flowered bike with the wide, knobby tires and off we went, just we two.
Along the way, she remarked on things I see silently so often – Lee Middle School getting rebuilt, the tidy houses on the right that were once so rundown, the vegetable garden that I always stop to look at, the clean scent of the lake…
She’d see and remark, then we’d talk – new things to her, but to me, things I see so often. The conversation flowed from her, though I labored to speak as I huffed/puffed and the sweat poured... and a hope kindled - that perhaps many years removed from now, she will recall that this is what we do. Perhaps someday, she and some little follower of her own will run and that they will both accrue all the benefits.
There is a spiritual parallel…
Recently when I was headed out the door with my journal (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moleskine) and our Labrador for a morning walk and quiet time when my youngest daughter asked if she could walk along with me. My first inclination was to go alone – the morning walk is often the only meditation time that I take to focus on God. But I hope to rub off on her. So I grabbed my daughter and my Moleskine and my dog and off we went.
Along the way, we remarked on things I silently journal every so often as a sort of prayer to God – the names of people with problems, the things for which I’m thankful, the circumstances that scare me, the fresh morning…
It was hard to talk about these things – these things are so familiar to me as I silently journal, but hard to put into words. Still the conversation did flow. I hoped I was being conspicuous enough. That perhaps she and some little follower of her own will one day walk and talk about their prayers and that they will both accrue all the benefits.
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