July 8, 2007

What a joy for a pastor to be afforded the opportunity to roll out of bed at 6:30 and go for a long run on the beach… ON A SUNDAY MORNING!

I ran down to the first pier going north. Then I kept running to the next distant pier lurking in the ocean mist. I just kept running. I was hoping someone wouldn’t yell, “Run Forrest, Run,” because I might have ended up in New York.

God was smiling as I ran. I had some old-school Tommy Walker worship music playing on my Ipod. “Make It Glorious” had a perfect rhythm with my cheetah-like pace. (Overdue side note: My running will impress someone only through my writing, and never actually through my running.)

The warm morning salt air mixed with the unbelievably calm water to my right… which stirred my soul and actually gave me goose bumps as I ran and worshipped God on this brand new, glorious day. It’s hard to run with goose bumps, but it sure was fun. I felt so very close and connected to my Creator.

On my way back I stopped by the state park where Sherry and I use to bring teens on annual summer trips. I’m going way back here… 15-17 years. I walked through the narrow, curvy roads of the state park. I tried to remember and imagine where we set up camp so many years ago. On one summer trip we took 29 kids from southern Indiana to this exact state park. Sherry was 7 months pregnant! What was I thinking? I did make our prenatal stay very comfortable as I gave Sherry an air mattress and ran a shiny new extension cord into our tent for a fans and hair dryers. I’m such an unbelievable romantic slob.

As I walked through the campgrounds this morning, I vividly remembered faces of teens we had brought here. Jeremy (aka “The Nighthawk”) who was loved by many of the girls, but would never commit to any one. Steve was going steady with Jodi, and all the adults made good guesses these two would get married. Christi played football and body surfed with all the guys. Steve eventually married Christi, and they now have twelve or so kids living on a farm back in rural Indiana. I could see the faces of Ben, Anne, Dustye, and Mindy. One afternoon at the beach, Mindy started playing very rough tackle football with all the guys. That night a few kids began telling us how Mindy had just found out she was pregnant and wanted to try and lose the baby. What a defining moment that was for many of us on this particular beach excursion. We had hours around camp fires doing “the love chair” where we spoke truth and love into the kids. We did unforgettable beach devotions. We had great times and deep moments of God-touched breakthroughs --- and that was just within me.

I wonder where all these kids are today? They probably now have their own kids going on youth group trips. I hope more than anything they have Jesus. All of these retro thoughts make me feel very old, but also extremely grateful for the deep, undeniable, unshakeable connections with people back in southern Indiana. God reminded me of so many faces as I walked through the state park.

Back on the beach and running, I decided to switch my music to some U2. First song… “Beautiful Day.” It so was.

It takes planning, extra work, and intentional intensity to get to such moments, but God was etching this one deep into my psyche and spirit for me to hold onto as the future months roll by. God was smiling, I was worshipping… it WAS a beautiful day.

Next song rolls… “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.” There was definite truth creeping out of these songs and sinking into my tired, sweaty, but exhilarated soul. I struggle with the way we label things secular and sacred --- especially music.

My earplugs were filling me with what most would consider to be secular (especially on a Sunday morning), but the words and sounds were giving me distinct truth and Spirit challenges. “I have climbed the highest mountains, I have run through the fields… only to be with you, only to be with you. I have run, I have crawled, I have scaled these city walls… only to be with you. But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

My brain and heart started hurting as much as my calf muscles. I have traveled far to the Rocky Mountains. I have ran through southern Indiana cornfields. I have ventured into the steel and concrete of Atlanta… all in attempt to follow and find God. Sometimes I regret decisions and moves. Other times I’m overwhelmed with thankfulness for adventure. Mostly I long for a sense of stability. I’ve wondered, at age 47, if I have yet to find what I’ve been looking for.

I asked God to show me, and then God seemed to say, “Alan, I want you still searching, climbing, and running when you’re 57 and 67.” And that was the final prayer of my morning run. God, please keep me running and searching after you. Help me to never arrive. Keep me forever hungry and open. God, thank you for these special times when I am incredibly blessed and privileged to read, run, worship, pray, write, and just hang out with you.

After I got back to the condo, we loaded up the family and went to a church building. After my early morning, I struggled a bit with going to church. We went to a different church today. There were no Bibles. No scripture was even flashed on the screen. There were lots of lights and smoke and video screens and hip musicians. They had great donuts and cold, tiny bottles of spring water. There were actually lots of people at this church. In fact, many people wore the same colored shirts. The choir wore matching, bright green, untucked-but-uncool t-shirts. The greeters and offering taker-uppers all wore special matching polo shirts. Jeremy Hazelton would have looked really sporty in one of these shirts. I’m reasonably sure membership at this church requires losing any individualized taste for fashion. I quickly and cynically surmised that all the inner-circle leaders wore matching outfits... just like Jesus and his posse of twelve.

The worship leader, for me, was over-the-top and a bit in-your-face. She would flash multiple signs to the band like a third-base coach flashes signals to a batter. Needless to say, I felt a bit distracted and lost in the whole ordeal. I’m sure this is a good church. A lot of people clapped after the songs.

Perhaps ideas of simplicity and BEING the church have somewhat tainted my ability to go to church. Reading David’s authentic Psalms, “Simple Church” and “Blue Like Jazz” have definitely become new, viable filters for me to think through things.

Tomorrow I start reading “Revoltion” by George Barna. The front cover reads: “Worn out on church? Finding vibrant faith beyond the walls of the sanctuary.” I’m anxious to read and listen and pray and think…

I wonder if any of this is going to get me fired?