The Night Rider

While the name of this post may conjure up images of one of my all-time favorite shows as a kid, the Knight Rider, starring David Hasselhoff - the comparisons end with the name I'm afraid. Last night I joined the Montevideo Bushwhackers (yes, it's a real group) for a night time mountain bike adventure. During my first visit to the local coffee shop last Friday, I met several guys from the area who share a similar love for all things active and outdoors. I had just been contemplating trading my mountain bike in for a road bike given the total flat and monotonous looking pavement around our homestead in Big Bend when the conversation about the Bushwhackers came up. A few years ago someone had an idea to get together once a week throughout the year to engage in some kind of activity together, be it biking, cross-country skiing, hiking, kayaking, etc. Now they call themselves the Montevideo Bushwhackers and some of their events and excursions attract up to 60 plus people to share in the fun. I am absolutely thrilled for having discovered this group just a month into our arrival in the area. So, yesterday the call came in for my first chance to get involved in some live action.

First of all, a quick shout out of thanks to my friend Matt Schreiber for giving me such an awesome mountain bike to call my own. Although my mountain biking has drastically decreased since acquiring this tremendous gift about six or seven years ago, it was such a boost to the self-esteem to show up to the night ride with this bike. I had begged Rebecca about two years ago to allow me to put some money into a tune up and repairs in hopes that I would then get more use out of it - and tonight, I was able to finally cash in. Along with a quality head lamp, a good helmet and durable pants, I hereby award myself (and again, thanks to Matt's generosity) with 10 Awesome Points in the "Equipment" category.

We arrived at the park around 8:30 pm, about fifteen minutes late due to getting pulled over for driving on the still closed off Highway 212. But, let's just say it helps to be driving with the Chief of Police, who happens to be one of the founders of the Bushwhackers. I'm just going to go ahead and award myself a quick 2 Awesome Points for meeting and keeping such company.

The ride itself was awesome! Weaving, digging and feeling the wind in my face as I plowed through the darkened paths was just what the soul was thirsty for. Riding in the daytime is challenging enough, now add to that by throwing in some steep dropoffs, sand, wildlife (skunks, bugs, deer, etc. and oh yeah, TOTAL DARKNESS, and the challenge/adventure quotient climbs up a few levels. We also had to portage a couple of times, carrying our bikes across a river bed and along a branch infested and steep hillside. Needless to say, the manliness factor was off the charts - an easy 20 Awesome Points. I'm not sure whether or not to award or take-away Awesome Points for experiencing a misstep on portaging attempt number two in which my entire right foot submerged in water. Let's just say it happened as a result of my exhaustion having just conquered a massive uphill climb without stopping, which definitely netted me 10 Awesome Points. Pedaling with a wet boot does equal manliness in my mind, but in this case, it was most definitely not awesome and thereby results in a negative 5 Awesome Points - bringing my subtotal for the thrilling ride itself to 25 Awesome Points.

Perhaps the coolest part of it all was that the night's shin-dig went down in the company of "the guys." Riding towards the back of the pack allowed for some entertaining moments at the expense of the leaders, who occasionally stumbled and encountered hardship - much to the enjoyment (and heads up) for the rest of us. At the end of the ride (4.7 miles, 57 minutes and 685 calories burned, according to someone's Smartphone App) we sat around someone's pick-up truck, drinking beer and sharing some much needed laughter, banter and masculine camaraderie. However, it should be noted that a negative 10 Awesome Points were deducted as I had to decline having a beer, therefore appearing to be a total and complete wuss or perhaps some kind of pompous religious person. And while my personal theology or religious beliefs have no qualms with drinking some beers with the guys, I am without a doubt a self-proclaimed wuss in the alcohol tolerance department. One beer usually is enough to affect my judgment. I still had to drive twenty miles home. So, even though the thought of an ice cold beverage was mighty tempting after what we'd just accomplished, I didn't want to risk it. Wuss or not, I'm going to go ahead and award myself 5 Awesome Points for exhibiting some clutch self-awareness and discernment in the heat of some mild peer-pressure and an opportunity to further implant myself as "one of the guys."

All in all, the night ride was a success and I look forward to solidifying myself in this community as a proud member of the Montevideo Bushwhackers.

The Rural Reverend

As I sat out on the deck this evening, I couldn't get over how incredibly peaceful and quiet my new living conditions are. With the exception of a few passing cars from time to time, there is absolutely zero noise pollution here. I remember being at the apartment in Lauderdale just a month ago and being overwhelmed by the constant noise of the city. Granted, I do miss the sound of kids playing on the playground, but I'm willing to live without that little luxury if it means I get to bask in the every day soundtrack of creation, complete with all its fluttering, chirping and skittering sounds around me.

Life in rural America is a beautiful blend of simplicity and inconvenience. We live one hundred yards from the church and another couple hundred yards to our nearest neighbors. We know our postmaster by name. People keep dropping off their produce for us to enjoy free of charge. It takes twenty minutes to get to the nearest grocery store, gas station or hospital. Some people let their dogs roam free. On any given night you're bound to see millions of stars overhead. It gets crazy dark around here, yet I can't seem to escape the one street lamp whenever I lay down to sleep every night. It's quiet, real quiet. The cell phone reception is awful. I see deer walk through our yard at least once a week. The closest town is Milan (pronounced MY-LAN), population 369. Technically we live in Hagen, which consists of approximately six houses including the parsonage. There is no sign for Hagen, but is named after one of the men who first settled this chunk of land. On the other side of us sits Big Bend City, a town of approximately twenty houses. The sign for Big Bend City is shaped like a Christmas tree. People only offer directions in East, West, North and South. Corn, soybeans and beets everywhere you look. Yeah, I love it here.

I take Mondays off. I've spent the last three Mondays at the parsonage (the name given to the home of the Pastor) unpacking with Rebecca, playing with Natalie, cleaning, running errands, napping and reading. But with Rebecca and Natalie out of town, I decided to go exploring in nearby Montevideo, population 3,000. While I consider myself technically a "local" now, I feel far from it. For instance, a local would know how to get to the park on the other side of Highway 7 which runs through town. Rebecca and I have long since wondered how to get to this place. Today was the day I discovered the secret entrance. No helpful signage would get me there, just pure trial and error. Lagoon Park is nothing special, but does offer camping and disc golf to those clever enough to think to go under Highway 7. The real treasure I unearthed were the nature trails of Wildwood Park located north of Lagoon Park, which reveal themselves to explorers like me. I think I'm going to get a lot of running, walking and praying accomplished on these trails for years to come.

I think the challenge of living out here won't be whether or not I can adjust to the rural lifestyle but whether I can manage the temptations of modernity which continually beckon for my attention. We have cable TV for the first time in our marriage. High speed internet, a dishwasher and air conditioning are all welcome amenities but can also lead to over-use and abuse. I started a book today and am easily half way through it already. In addition to the errands accomplished this morning, I also got a fair amount of chores done around the house. Productive as I've been, I've also wasted a ridiculous amount of time watching television over the past two days. I got sucked into re-runs of 30 Rock, Cheers and Friends. I watched the Twins, the little league World Series and some random NFL show where four analysts yell at each other. I watched a show about ghosts, a portion of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom and the Weather Channel. But I really got hooked on the Animal Planet and couldn't take my eyes off an extreme fishing show, a show devoted to alligator handlers who call themselves "gatorboys" and this show about a backwoods pest control wildman called the "turtle man," who captures snapping turtles, snakes and raccoons.

Cable TV confession aside, I am truly loving my time here thus far. I can be often heard telling Rebecca and my parishioners "I love my job" - and its true. I really am proud to be a rural Reverend and extremely excited to have been called here to join in the ministry of Big Bend Lutheran. The Spirit is alive and well in this small, hospitable and adventurous community and I am eager to see how God works through us in the coming months and years.   

The Point of Theological Education

I think what made learning the stick shift so important was that it was a concept completely foreign to me. I grew up never needing to know this skill - it was automatic to know only an automatic transmission. Inquiring about driving a stick-shift as an adult brought about a certain amount of vulnerability because for the people who taught me, the skill came quite naturally to them, for they had developed their abilities over a long course of time - in other words, manual had become their automatic. Learning anything so foreign as an adult is difficult because our brains have been wired in a particular way for a longer period of time.

And yet, it's never too late to learn something new. It takes practice, persistence and above all, humility to be instructed. I have learned that the simplest way we can grow as individuals is to ask questions - to act on our curiosity and to be open-minded to learning about something that scares us or to try something we've never done before. In the same light, I have hard-wired my brain in the subject of theology for a large portion of the last 15 years. Going to seminary was actually a very natural progression and something that I'd known I would do for a long time. Therefore, completing my four year Masters of Divinity degree and completing my "manual transmission instruction" are two very different kinds of accomplishments. Graduating from seminary feels incredibly awesome because of how passionate I am about God and graduating from the "school of stick-shift driving" feels incredibly awesome because of how unfamiliar and uncomfortable I used to feel about driving anything with a clutch.

There seems to be a lot of unspoken curiosity about the point of theological education today. I sense there are many both in and out of the church who wonder about people like me who spend four years studying theology, religion and all things supernatural. A significant part of me avoided seminary for several years because I didn't want people to look at me and think that I had become too stuffy, arrogant or entitled and thereby alienate people around me with my "superior" knowledge of the Bible. I didn't want to learn so much that I lost my critical edge, empathy and approachability with people who might be inquisitive about living by faith or joining a church. Something is communicated to people when they encounter anyone with a collar or Pastor/Reverend in front of their name, and all too often that message is negative for whatever the reason. There are of course many exceptions to this, but in my age bracket there is definitely growing suspicion and mistrust of clergy.

I went to Luther Seminary because I felt God was calling me to do so. Telling people this causes eyebrows to raise and evokes a series of questions which are either shared aloud or kept hidden and locked away. This is a natural thing to do because "calling" language is not normal - it is foreign and even a little weird. But this is exactly why I went. I was nudged by a force outside of me to enter into a period of discernment about my entering the ministry, and when I could no longer give myself a logical excuse to do anything else, I took a step towards theological education. This sort of obedience is no different for anyone else in any other career - we are all called to pursue that which excites and energizes us and if we're willing to listen and follow those Spirit nudges, there is nothing stopping us from reaching our potential.

I have come to view my time spent in theological education at Luther Seminary as a particular length of time in which I was called to dwell in God’s historical and biblical story and to explore how God has been at work through human beings in community throughout the ages. In a sense, it was like studying the Holy Spirit’s affects through both a rear-view mirror and a picture window. These two perspectives brought to light that theological education is less about acquiring artifacts and answers and more about teasing out the necessary insight, practical tools and strategies one needs to thrive as a public witness and leader of the church. I think the point of theological education is about cultivating wisdom, creativity, practical leadership skills, historical insight and passion for and around the word of God and God’s work through the church. In short, all of these areas have inspired and equipped me further in my pursuit of how to “know, love, and enjoy God as much as possible in this life now and forever in heaven.” (Augustine of Hippo)

When we face challenges like doing algebra or auto-mechanics (or driving stick), it is not just about acquiring answers as it is about wiring our brains in order to learn how to problem solve. In the same sense, this is how I view theological education. It’s not about uncovering specific meanings of passages or the answers to contradicting theories and challenges – but it’s about the process of becoming wise stewards to the faith of which we have been called. Theological education is less about solving mysteries and more about dwelling within them and wrestling with our questions. It is about cultivating and sharing wisdom through our context, both past and present as we participate actively in the life of the community to which we have been called.

I am really excited to take the wisdom I have gained during my time at Luther Seminary and in the various ministry contexts I've experienced over the course of my life and apply them as a Pastor at Big Bend Lutheran Church. I go not with a belief that I know all there is to know, but rather with the confidence and certainty that God goes with me and will continually send the Holy Spirit to accompany, guide and inspire my ministry and decision-making. There is no magic formula for success, only a desire to be faithful to that which I have been called to do. May you go and do likewise wherever you are called to be.

Graduating

I graduated from seminary and am now on my way to becoming a Pastor. This accomplishment feels great to be sure. But, as incredible it is to finish grad school and all, there is another graduation which has occurred that in some way feels slightly better: Two weeks ago, just after completing seminary, I also graduated from the school of manual transmission driving. In other words, I can check "learn to drive a stick shift" off my bucket list! I think I beamed to my family and friends more about this accomplishment than having just spent four years filling my brain with Bible knowledge, leadership practices, missional imagination and what someone means by eschatological hope.(In the end times we have nothing to fear because of what Jesus has done in his life, death and resurrection.)

I re-played the concept of driving stick over and over in my head after those initial lessons with Borna. Clutch. Brake. Gears. But it was in South Dakota with John and JoAnn that completed the circle of training. There I was given freedom to drive day after day in the open country roads, with little fear of hitting a parked car or rolling backwards down a hill at a stoplight. Sure I'm still in the beginner stages - I kill the engine, peel out, forget to put the clutch in when I start it up, etc. But I'm starting to really get the touch, and I've gotta say, I feel a little invincible. I suddenly have this incredible urge to go and test drive a Ferrari. Perhaps I'll just take these skills to the arcade and test them out on the video game version of sports cars or wait until I get into the rural places once again and borrow someone's beat up pickup truck. Either way, I can say with joy that I've learned the one skill that eluded me for a long time and made me feel so inadequate whenever someone would ask, "Who can drive a stick?" And I'd have to hang my head or sheepishly reply, "Um.. I'd rather not, I don't know how, I've only done it once..." Those days are behind me. I realize every car is a bit different of course, but I understand both the concept and have had time to "feather the clutch" and cultivate "the touch," thereby proving that with enough determination and curiosity, we can in fact re-wire our brains. 

This skill definitely would have proved useful during college when I was frequently a designated driver. This skill could have been better utilized in Europe when my Dad did all the driving on our Ireland vacation. But now... now when someone needs me to drive their car and asks, "Can you drive a stick shift?" I can say with confidence, "Yes I can!" So, I'd like to thank all who have let me watch their feet on the pedals over the years, including my Dad, my father-in-law John, my wife's Aunt JoAnn, Cody, and my good friend Borna for making this dream come true. Together with their patience, encouragement and instruction, I can hold my head high and boldly accept any car (or tractor) driving opportunities that come my way from now on.

Israel: Closing Thoughts

One month ago to the day was my last day in Israel. I continue to process my thoughts about this trip, despite what has been nothing but an action-packed and mind-boggling beginning to my last semester at Luther Seminary. Now that I have been placed in Region 3 (MN, SD, ND) for assignment and as I look ahead to first call, I can finally go back and close out this most epic of experiences from this past January. So here are some insights worth sharing that I took away from our final cross-cultural debriefing session last Friday.

What did you expect to learn and did in fact, learn?

(The following insights are excerpts from my paper)

I expected to learn more about the tensions and conflict currently going on between the people of the Holy Land. I gained a much informed and insightful, albeit agonizing run-down of the various issues involved between the Israelis and Palestinians, the Jews, Christians and Muslims. We heard from two very different perspectives of the same conflict which escalated just over sixty years ago in the spring of 1948. First we listened to Bob Lang, the chief bureaucrat of Efrat, an Israeli/Jewish settlement on the outskirts of Jerusalem. Bob spoke passionately about the Holy Land and his desire to see Jewish people return rightfully to this lands – land that his ancestors have known for 4000 years. His dream is that Israel would soon be known as a “melting pot” and ingathering of the Exiles and insists that despite the walls (both literal and figuratively) and the zero contact allowed between Israeli and Palestinian children, that settlements are designed to live side by side with Arabs and “are not obstacles to peace but bridges.”  Later that same afternoon we heard from Pastor Imad Hadad, a Palestinian Christian (and Lutheran) in Bethlehem. Pastor Hadad and a local Muslim woman spoke to our group about the difficulties facing Palestinians, especially those living in the West Bank where they live. Both Pastor Hadad and the woman stressed that the key to a peaceful coexistence rests upon a two-state solution and above all, “being recognized as a person.” They shared about the daily human rights violations occurring, most notably their right to travel freely within their country. They both went on to list many things they are simply not allowed to do, or allowed to do only under intense scrutiny. Pastor Hadad shared that he views Jewish settlements as “colonies on my land which are stealing my resources.” 

I am continually besieged by the thought that ultimately, this conflict feels like one between two estranged brothers[1] who both believe they are right. I find myself wrestling that at some point this sibling rivalry ought to end with someone taking the high road – that something needs to give in order for there to be any peace or justice. But this thought barely escapes my mind before I throw up my arms in total and utter confusion and despair: who am I to suggest such an approach?

Our last day would bring a sampling of nourishing food for thought to my embattled conscience. We met with 73 year old Palestinian Christian and Archbishop of the Melkite Church, Elias Chacour (author of one of our required texts, Blood Brothers: The Unforgettable Story of a Palestinian Christian Working for Peace in Israel - which I highly recommend!) Archbishop Chacour described rather poignantly that “this is a conflict of two rights glued together and pushed to the extreme, competing against one another for who will be able to remove more from the other side.” It dawned on me how right he was – and how my struggle to choose a side was ultimately an ill-fated and pointless act for this is not about sides – it is about solidarity. Chacour scorned the notion that ‘might is right’ and recounted that “God does not kill.” 

I certainly have a new appreciation for the vast conflict and contrast within this tiny country, and that we the church are continually called to “raise hell when its needed – to bring God into the conscience” by solidarity in (in Chacour’s parting words) “being friends with both Jews and Palestinians – no reason you can’t take more than one side because we don’t need any more enemies, but common friends.” 

What did you not expect to learn but did? 

The response to this question came from my fellow Luther Seminary trip-mate, Karen Ward, whose sentiments I agree with completely. She said that she expected to be spiritually fed by the places of the Holy Land – but was in fact, not. In other words, the ‘magic’ and beauty and ancient wonder of seeing where Jesus walked, taught, healed, lived, rose from the dead, etc wasn’t what one would expect. For the most part, I was not spiritually fed by the places themselves but rather by the living stones – the people – who existed there now. It was awesome to reflect upon the places in relation to the Scriptures we know so well as Christians, but the power came not from the ruins and excavations. No, I was most moved by what I sensed Jesus was doing in my life moment by moment, in conversation with my group mates, in worship and prayer, in journaling and reflection upon the faithfulness of God both then and now. Don’t get me wrong, I am thankful for having seen these Holy places from the greatest story ever told, but I walk away not with memories of divine encounters at the shrines and monuments themselves, but with a newly inspired imagination for teaching and preaching how this ordinary land once interacted with our forefathers in the faith, the ancient Hebrews and Israelites, the disciples and the Lord of All Creation, Jesus Christ.  

What did you expect to learn but did not?

I expected to have more freedom to learn on my own from the locals. I learned the hard way that whether I wanted to be known as a tourist or not, I was in fact just that. We were not permitted to stray off from the group at any point of our experience. This was frustrating. I wanted to explore on my own or with a few other people and really get a pulse of the land and people. I hoped to engage in more spontaneous discussions with the Israelis and to hopefully walk away having connected on some temporary intimate footing with others. But we were largely treated as dumb sheep. Granted, we were in fact probably oblivious to the dangers around us had we gotten separated, but nothing was more annoying than being treated like a child. I am grateful for the insights of a friend who had spent some significant time in Israel a few years ago – he gave me great tips and recommendations, insight and back story about the places on our itinerary. Without his assistance, I know I would have surely missed out on some of the tastiest snacks in all of Israel – namely, “Taybeh” (a Palestinian brewed beer) and Knafeh (a sweet bakery treat that is literally, the best!)

What were your highs and lows?

My lows: when I was not allowed to explore on my own, the jet lag and feeling incredibly homesick the first week. My high: getting to create an experience with two other trip companions by summiting Mt. Zeruya overlooking the Dead Sea. The whole trip was definitely a ‘high’ but I will especially remember January 17, 2011 with Pastor Chip Gunsten and Sami Wertz and our encounter with God and the Word (Psalm 121, 84 and 46) upon that mountain. I also had some pretty amazing talks with the Triune God throughout the experience which inspired my faith and assured me of Jesus’ tremendously enduring, patient, strong and unconditional love for me and all people. I am also super grateful for having shared these 17 days with such an awesome group of people whose generosity and kindness were extremely appreciated. I miss our interaction and laughter together – if one of you is reading this now, know that I am grateful for our travels together and pray God’s blessings for you!

Sea of Galilee

I have returned home to the United States, but there is one other place we visited in Israel that I would like to share about. The final five days of our 17 day pilgrimage to the Holy Lands were spent along the shores of the Sea of Galilee, a place in which Jesus called home and conducted much of his ministry during his 33 years.

The impact of the trip began to set in and become more real during our visit of the villages where Jesus taught, healed and lived among the people. A definite highlight of my trip was our tour of the ancient village of Capernaum. It was in Capernaum that Peter lived and it is believed that Jesus too, called Peter's home his own home as well. Everything about this village altered much of my perception and imagery I had previously held in my reading of the Scriptures. For starters, Peter's house stood approximately 100 feet from the entrance to the synagogue. In between stood the other homes of the village, side by side, often sharing outer walls. Kind of crazy how close everything was - Jesus was practically in a parsonage! This gave me an entirely new appreciation and realization that Jesus was far and away, the first rural preacher. We finished the day in the church with a glass floor which looks into Peter's "living room." We sat in silent reflection as I read aloud from the Gospel of Mark (Chapter 1:14 through 3:6) which included Jesus' ministry in Capernaum.

Other days included visits to the site where Jesus multiplied the fish and loaves and fed five thousand people (not including children and women) and Sunday worship upon the Mount where Jesus preached about the kingdom of heaven, aka the Beattitudes (Matthew 5.)

But perhaps the greatest part of our time in Tiberias by the Sea of Galilee was the time I spent in prayer and exploration. Climbing Mt. Zeruya by the Dead Sea gave me such a thrill and mountain top experience that I was eager to try for the sequel in Tiberias. Standing by the same waters that Jesus walked upon, one is surrounded by high places creating a bowl-like environment. The Sea of Galilee is not large, perhaps the size of a moderate lake by Minnesota standards. It is no wonder why it is often referred to as a lake in the Bible. I couldn't help but be curious about the hills - which one was Jesus' favorite? 

I hinted to the others that if given any free time I would be interested in climbing one of the hills near our hotel in order to get a higher vantage point of the Sea. Initial inspection was negative as barbed wire fence kept would-be climbers like me off its hilltops. Instead, I found myself upon the rocks at the shoreline. Much to my delight, I was able to check the Sea of Galilee off my imaginary list of famous water surfaces to skip rocks off of!  But what a treat to have shared solitude and prayer with God along the same lake that Jesus and his disciples ministered on and around so often over 2000 years ago. And even cooler was that in the distance to the north one could see Mt. Hermon, known as the "high mountain" in the account of Jesus' transfiguration, another favorite of mine. But as awesome as my time on sea level was, I could not shake off the desire to ascend the heights of the hills around me.

A few days would go by until we returned to the hotel with daylight still left for us to do with as we pleased. On that particular occasion, I found myself taking another leisurely stroll behind the hotel. And lo and behold, I stumbled upon an opening in the fence line. I remember thinking, "how's that for an invitation?" before grinning from ear to ear and beginning my climb up the steep hill. There were no switch-backs or anything that resembled a trail, but I was determined to find a place to sit and pray overlooking the Sea of Galilee. Daylight was fading quickly, but I managed to reach the halfway point of the hill that God so subtly provided for me. As I sat catching my breath, I was nearly overwhelmed by the clarity with which one could see the boats atop the surface of the Sea. Suddenly I found myself in Jesus' place as he prayed alone the night leading up to his miraculous walk upon the Sea. He must've easily been able to see the storm quickly descend upon the disciples - not to mention hear their cries of distress. And then it hit me square in the face - Jesus' love for us and his ability and desire to be with us and to rescue us from danger. Yes, God is never far off from us, no matter how fierce the wind and waves around us may seem. I pictured Jesus moving with quickness and descending the hill and taking the most direct path he could towards the disciples... and this all from an easy, albeit mild form of trespassing, excursion up the hills of Galilee.

But my time with God didn't end there. I stood and debated whether or not to go further up the hill. And then I spotted something on the summit. It was moving - eating the grasses upon the hilltop. I hiked a little higher to get a glimpse. It was a horse. It did not notice me, so I climbed up a little more - at which point it did notice me and stopped and stared in my direction. Clearly, we were each just as surprised to see one another. I was so perplexed - cattle perhaps, but a horse? I decided to not go any further, and then my imagination went into overdrive and alerted my legs that it was high time to make a break for it. My adrenaline increased as I slowly made my way back down the steep hill. And yet, I remained so happy and excited about that encounter - and totally baffled as to the reason/story behind the horse.

After reaching the flat land again and making my way back to the hotel, I realized I had made the right decision by not going up further - for light quickly faded and left most of my walk back a very dark one. Was the horse there to "encourage" my descent? Who knows, but I give God thanks for such a mysterious and intimate encounter with the Holy Spirit during what was clearly some very Holy Time.

Mt. Zeruya

I met and spoke with a woman on our trip who says she can hear the voice of God speaking to her. my experience is not the same, but I do sense when God is nudging me. Take for instance the other day when I went for that hike. I sensed God nudging me to go off the beaten path, even after I had decided not to. I ended up doubling back and going anyway. Then when I reached the "top" and ran into those hikers who gave me that water, I had this yearning to keep going. I smartly decided to stay put. But that nudge wouldn't go away quietly over the next two days.

Today we were told that we would have the afternoon to ourselves after a morning's worth of touring together. the nudge returned. mt. Zeruya? I thought. impossible, I need a permit. I asked at the front desk about the permit. "You need to pick that up at the entrance to the nature preserve." Well, that pretty much settled it. the preserve was two kilometers away and there was no way for me to get it and do the hike afterwards. well, our first stop this morning was to the nature preserve. the hike was suddenly looking possible again! I talked with our guide, Dr. Luker, who seemed optimistic and encouraging for me to pursue the hike once we returned around 2pm. We spoke with the park official about the permit required and he waved us off and said I didn't need one. It was settled - the hike was on! We didn't return to base camp from this mornings activities until 2:45 pm. There were dark rain clouds approaching from the north. I had tried my best at recruiting a few companion hikers during the morning and had two interested. and then I felt the nudge. the nudge that said "you're doing this hike." And that was that. I decided it was worth at least trying. The hikers the other day told me two hours up and one hour down. At that rate we most likely would not reach the summit by the time we would need to turn around in order to make it back before sun down. But that nudge for adventure just would not subside. My companions looked to me for the call. "Meet at my room in five minutes. we are going for a hike," I declared.

We left for the summit of mt. Zeruya at 3 pm. I took the lead with Sammy and Chip following close behind. as a trio we decided that at 4:30 we would turn around no matter where we were. it was a grueling hike. Rated difficult for a reason, we climbed up and up and up forever. the path was marked well but very rocky. at times we had to do hand over hand climbing. the wilderness took on a whole new meaning for me. we encountered no other living thing save for a few desert flowers which had yet to bloom. there were a few water breaks and pauses for pictures, but for the most part we just kept moving forward and up. I can't remember a more intense hike. I wondered how far we would get by 4:30, it was so steep that the was no telling where the summit would appear from. My thoughts drifted to old testament times and Moses and Joshua hiking through the wilderness and suddenly having a new found appreciation and awe for them. I thought about Jesus hiking up a mountainside to pray in solitude. It didn't get any more desolate than this. I thought bout my brother Dave and how much he would be loving this and his adventurous spirit urged me on, especially in places where the view around me was spectacular. I prayed for my family and all the happenings for them at that very moment.

After about an hour of ascension, I started to realize that we were getting very close to the top. I resisted the urge to say "almost there" because I knew there would be a false summit awaiting me when I did. I was right. But, despite that, we were still almost there. I had to pause and make Sammy get a shot of me at what was one of the most terrifying corners - the kind where it's wall and then it's a drop off on the other side. I mentioned that this would be the Picture that scares the hell out of my Dad (among others!) We pressed on. and then, after just a little over an hour, we reached the summit of Mt. Zeruya, 200 meters above sea level, 1500 feet from where we started, give or take. It was incredible! I made sure to bring my Bible, and during one of our water breaks, I read Psalm 46 to give us a little perspective and a boost. At the top, Psalm 121. We laughed and soaked up the jaw dropping sights from the top. we observed some silence. Two birds flew over our heads. Wondered where the third one was... no words can describe that view. exhausting? So. Worth. It. we descended quickly but carefully, hoping to make it out of the tough stuff by sundown. We gave our props to my Dad at the scary corner, which we affectionately named "Rod's Corner" and we scaled back down without pitching over the side. all in all, we made it out before dark, give or take a few minutes. no rain. No mountain lions. no border police. no jordanian prison cells. just pure joy and thanksgiving. two hours VERY well spent!

The Wilderness

Our three days in Jerusalem were very full - and I enjoyed them immensely. But there is something equally exciting about the wild places - the rural, the open and the desert - the wilderness. We have stepped away from the crowds and the lines at various holy places like Jesus' manger, cross and tomb, (which were all very thought-provoking and meaningful in their own special way,) and now find ourselves immersed in the bromide filled air of the Dead Sea. Whether you are a history buff or not, the holy lands are fascinating in the large scope of human history. The Temple in Jerusalem blew my mind. It was so awesome to see in person and to visualize how life in the ancient times operated through this massive piece of architecture. I also really liked the Mount of Olives and the Garden of Gethsamene and Church of all Nations. I can't wait to have these places come to mind in my future reading of the scriptures.

One of the museums we stopped at on the way out of Jerusalem had a model of the Temple from 70 ad. It was incredible. Could've stayed a whole day there. Of course, I also pictured how cool it would have been breaking out the old GI Joes and having a hey-day amidst that Temple model, but maybe that's just me. On the way to the Dead Sea we stopped at Jericho, the oldest city on earth. Here we ate at "The Mount of Temptations Restaurant." Seriously. Yes, this is where the supposed temptations of Jesus took place, specifically the one where Satan takes Jesus up a high mount and offers the kingdoms of the world. The restaurant offered a monster buffet for its hungry American tourists. I did my best to refuse to "eat as much as you want" that the restuarant slogan touted by having only soup (broth) and bread. I was a tad appalled at how much food people put on their plates. Made me wonder if people from other countries loaded up as much food as we Americans often do. I have worked hard this trip at self-control, sometimes successful. Anyway, after lunch we went and looked at the oldest human structure ever made - a watchtower like thing made of stones which dates back 10,000 years! To stand at a place where people existed that long ago blows my mind. How can a picture capture a powerful fact like that? So I took some rocks, too.

And now I sit 1300 feet below sea level on the shores of the Dead Sea - the lowest place on earth. It can only go up from here. Literally. It's crazy to think how vastly different Jerusaelm and Ein Gedi are - one sits 2700 feet about sea level in the Judean hill country while the other is lower than low, on the coast of the salt filled waters of the Dead Sea. Both are beautiful in many different ways. Yesterday I experienced floating/levitating/flying in the waters of the Dead Sea. What an odd feeling. Lean back and up you float. No matter your position, the forces below simply would not allow you to sink. It was awesome. And I spent it in great company which made the moment even better! After that we smothered dead sea mineral mud on ourselves and baked in the sun, washing off with a warm and "refreshing" sulfur shower. Never thought bathing in sulfur would be refreshing, but it was. As long as you didn't get any in your eyes or mouth. Disgusting. Completing the spa package was a dip in the hot springs where I thought my legs were catching fire by the 21 plus minerals which were apparently making my skin healthier. Guess my complexion has never been better. Wish my wife were here to testify to that!

So today was reserved as a day of solitude, reflection and private prayer. I chose to go for a hike around the resort. Sat and reflected at an overlook of the Moab mountain range and Dead Sea (which gets its name partly due to the fact that no living thing lives in its depths) and sharing space with several ibex. An ibex is basically a small deer with huge curvy horns which could easily gore you. They were friendly though. I gave them some space anyway. I ended up discovering this sweet trail up the hill behind the resort. I didn't have much water, but being just outside the fence of the resort, I figured I was pretty safe. Don't worry, the story isn't going to end with me in a Jordanian prison accused of espionage. Although, I have to admit, that thought did cross my mind. What DID happen however, was that I had one of those awesome me and God moments where everything was beautiful, peaceful and epic - and I had to stop every three minutes or so and give God thanks for creation and the natural beauty and wonder all around me. I took a lot of pictures but I know they will simply not do it justice. So I get to the place where I am going to turn around and head back, but all I want to do is sit and take in the view around me. Two hikers come down the mountain at that moment and in limited English encourage me to keep going up to the summit. "Two hours up and one hour down." Tempting. But then I notice a big sign next to the trail that says "border zone, no access without permit." I try to decline without seeming like a wuss. He gives me a liter of water. Any other country, I would have been on my way up. But, no passport on me and images of news headlines made the decision easy. I could hear a waterfall in the near distance. Wanted to go so bad. But, I stayed and worshiped God with Psalm 84 (my personal trip text) and some much needed prayer and quiet time. Tomorrow we are back on the road to the wilderness of Israel. I still miss home and my loved ones, but email and phone calls have made all the difference - not to mention finally being able to sleep through the night. Blessings to you all - let me know if you have any questions, would love to hear from you!

Jerusalem and The Old City

Day one of my pilgrimage to the Holy Land was awesome. So much to tell, so little time. Our hotel is really close to the old city, the ancient Jerusalem. We go from a very modern city to ancient stones in no time at all. Really liked the view of the Mount of Olives - the image of the white washed tombs aligning the hill leading up it has just stuck with me. The view from the Temple is incredible. Today I walked where Jesus and his disciples walked and I sat where Jesus taught, upon some steps with the city of David behind you. A highlight was definitely the Western Wall, also known as The Wailing Wall. This wall was a retaining wall for the second temple which was destroyed in 70 AD. The lower stones represent the actual wailing wall. There are cracks that you can put prayers into. I put my hand on the wall after stuffing a prayer into the wall. The wall was quite cold to the touch. What an incredible experience. I didn't really know what to expect, but after that experience I found myself emotional. I reckon it was the Spirit and His presence in hearing all of those prayers throughout the centuries. Further to the south of this wall is a relatively new excavation site in which a much larger section of the western wall has been discovered, including the original walkway where Jesus and his disciples would have trod. Crazy. There is also a pile of rubble which signals the Roman destruction of the temple. The smallest stone is said to weigh two and a half tons. The manpower that went into building this temple and many of the other structures we see is really hard to fathom.

At the end of the day we walked through Hezekiah's Tunnel. This tunnel was two feet wide and as much as eight feet high, higher in some spots. Made in like the 8th century, guys used pick axes for over eighteen hundred feet. This rock was hard. It would take jackhammers awhile. Water was knee high in places. It was so intense. When we entered the temple, it was kind of odd to see so much security, going to see such a religious place never would have been where I thought I would come within inches of an AK47 machine gun. I begin to wonder if having such a strong military presence is necessary. Yet both then and now things can escalate in such an emotionally charged location so it's easy to understand why certain measures (like having riot gear near by) are taken. Yes, this is truly holy ground. But it is also quite ordinary...

Travel Alert

In two days I leave for Israel to tour the Holy Land for 17 days. I am extremely excited for this opportunity of a lifetime. But I'll be honest, I'm also a little scared. The security situation in Israel-Palestine is uncertain, unstable, dangerous - you name it. I have not received any indication that our group will be intentionally placed in harm's way nor will we be traveling to those areas of conflict - but just the thought of being in the same country where so much blood has been shed is a bit unnerving to say the least. And yet, I cannot contain my excitement for being a part of something so intense - I expect my imagination and adrenaline will be greatly stirred - I have longed for this kind of adventure for some time now. It's going to be awesome!

I am also feeling sad at the thought of having to be apart from my wife and daughter for such an extended time. I am unsure how often I will speak with them and am pretty sure I won't see their faces for the duration of my travels. The time missed being together will surely weigh on my heart while I am away, and I am already looking forward to a joyful reunion upon my safe return!  I am so blessed to have had so much time with Natalie during the last few months of Daddy Day Care - I cannot describe here how much I adore and cherish this little girl. The same can definitely be said of Rebecca. The last time she and I were apart this many days we were still dating as she went to Guatemala for a month in college. I suppose it's my turn now. (The thought of being apart for 17 days causes me to give thanks for those in the military who do this ALL THE TIME. Their commitment is a powerful testament, regardless of where one stands on military involvement...)

Regardless of my concerns and fears, I know that God will be with me (and my family) every step of the way. It has always been my experience that in times of fear and uncertainty that the Holy Spirit is close - empowering, comforting and busy behind the scenes. This trip serves as a terrific way to draw close to God for some quality "God-bonding" and restoration of the soul. I expect to come home refreshed in the faith and eager to share what God is and has been up to while out of the country.

Stepping out of our comfort zones is necessity in my humble opinion. Whether it's taking a risk by putting the squeeze on our checking account and traveling to a country under a "travel alert" like Israel or committing to some never done it that way before kind of adventure or idea, I am continually inspired by a God who calls us to the fringes of life, to places that we fear and would otherwise avoid at all costs. 2012 will be a year unlike any I've ever faced. At this point, I'll either be heading into ministry full time as an ordained Pastor in the ELCA or I'll be putting that path on hold for one year in order to travel the world - two incredible opportunities and adventures of which I am eager (and terrified) to experience!  

But first: The Holy Land!