Just Because You Can ...

This trip has been my first experience with the electronic book--the Amazon Kindle. For this trip, it has been great. I cannot imagine how much my suitcase would weigh if I had to bring enough books to last for a three week trip to the other side of the world. But the booksellers association need not fear that I will completely abandon them. The Kindle is convenient and space-smart and "gadget cool," but it will never fully replace paper for me. Don't get me wrong, the Kindle was a gift on my recent birthday and I am grateful. It will just not be my only source of reading material in the future.

I am not among those who see devices like the Kindle as the end of books, magazines, and newspapers. If the internet did not kill all of these "old" media, then an electronic book will not either. There will always be enough people who will remember the hefty weight of a classic; who will never want to fall asleep under War and Peace; who enjoy the tactile experience of turning pages.

Certainly there are attractions to electronic media, but just because we could go the route of making all media electronic in form, doesn't mean that we should. Sometimes we tend to feel like any advance--technological or otherwise--is a good advance that should be pursued. But I wonder whether we would be better off putting some advances on hold. I read a story recently about a family who would eat supper each night by candlelight. Not for ambiance, but in order to force a slowing down of life.

Here in India there is certainly plenty of hustle and bustle. With more than a billion people in your country, it goes without saying. I am surrounded by all of this activity, but it is such a relief to go back to the hotel room and sit in the peace and quiet--and just sit still. I cannot help but wonder whether I can bring some of that peace back to daily life at home. In the midst of the hustle and bustle of graduation and wedding and off-to-college, I feel like I must find some time to slow down.

I think that it will come down to a choice--just because I can have a life filled with hustle and bustle, do I need to choose to live that way? Or is there a better way?

Pressing On!

Like, yet not like

Yesterday's travels took me over Germany, Poland, Ukraine, Russia, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and finally into India. From 33,000 feet, most of those countries look like flying over Kansas or Nebraska (until the desert parts--which sort of looked like the Nebraska sand hills). And once it became dark, Lahore, Pakistan looked like any mid-sized American city. This morning I attended the Delhi International Christian Fellowship with a colleague from work. I met people from many different countries, but we were all able to worship the same God at the same time in the same room--with a BGC lead pastor who is from Minneapolis.

At the same time, the differences are so easy to see. I walked around a bit this afternoon in a mall close to where I am staying and I understood very little of what was being said around me. Some of the products in the stores I recognized, but most of the names were unfamiliar. And the traffic. Reminds me of the Philippines with all sorts of vehicles operating in a seeming disorderly hodgepodge of cylinders. Yet most of the time everyone gets where they are going without incident.

I wonder how much of getting along with people is a matter of choosing to see more of the similarities than the differences? I am not so naive as to think that this is the answer to all of the world's problems, but if we were to make more consistent and deeper attempts to see life through the eyes of the other, I wonder if we would see ourselves as more alike after all.

Pressing On!

The High Ground

Here in the Bailiwick of Jersey (an island in the English Channel) I am looking out my hotel window at Fort Regent--a Napoleonic fort located on what looks to be the highest point of the island. So, of course, I wanted to run up to the fort. Jersey is roughly rectangular in shape (9 miles long and 5 high) and St. Helier, the town where I am staying, is in the lower right hand corner of Jersey.

Today's run, after a long day of meetings, took me up the center of the island about halfway, then out to the eastern coast. Running down the east coast brought me to the foot of South Hill, which is where Fort Regent is located. I am reminded that we really do not have hills in Minnesota. The climb up South Hill was steep and even had several sets of stairs. But the view from the top--WOW!

From the gun emplacement I found, a commander could control the entire eastern and southern approaches to the island. Not only that, but I could see France on the horizon. The view of the harbor and two major bays was spectacular. A person could drive close to the top, but by running, I felt that I earned the eye candy.

The run along the waterfront here the other day was magnificent, but there is something even better about being on the heights and looking out over the entire area--but it is not without a cost. Running along the waterfront was relatively easy--no real ups or downs. But running to the top of South Hill was all ups and downs.

Ascending the heights--whether physical or spiritual--requires an extra investment of energy. We may do "okay" with the regular amount of attention and energy, but "exceptional" requires that extra effort. And why settle for okay when exceptional is within reach for those who will expend the effort? Why not pursue the view from the fort? Is it hard work? Yes. Is it more tiring than running along the beach? Yes. Is the view utterly amazing? YES!

If we may be able to accomplish extraordinary things for God, why settle for the regular and ordinary? At the same time, it would be unreasonable to expect God to do amazing things through us if we are only willing to put in "regular" effort and time. Which will it be, the beach or the heights?

Pressing On!

Negative Splits

When you run the second half of a race or a run faster than the first half, we call that "negative splits." I generally run negative splits because it takes a while to get warmed up or because when I finish the first half of the run, I know that I have the juice to speed up the rest of the way. Today's trail run was no exception.

Since it was my birthday, I wanted to do something that I wanted to do--so I went out to our local state park, Lake Maria, to run the trails. 5.5 miles on the road is nothing like 5.5 miles on the trails--except that it is 5.5 miles. On the road I really don't have to pay too much attention. On the trails, if I am not attentive I will be eating dirt. On the road I rarely have to consider which way to go. On the Lake Maria trail network, I have to think about which trail ends up where or I could be out there all night. On the road the ups and downs are gradual. On the trails I am reminded that not all of central Minnesota is flat.

While I was running I spent some time reflecting on life. Turning 50 is supposed to be some kind of milestone, so I did not want to let the day pass without some serious contemplation. This thought process is not complete, but the start has been intriguing. I figure that I have now lived 30 more-or-less adult years. Also, absent some crisis, another 30 adult years may not be an unreasonable planning horizon. What I hear from people who have gone before me is that life is lived in negative splits--the second half goes more quickly than the first. If so, in order to maximize the effect and value of the second half will require a much more focused approach.

I think that a place to begin is to answer the question, "What have I accomplished in the first half?" I should tackle this from several perspectives--family, faith, work, mental, physical, friendships--and be thorough. Usually I tend to shortchange what I have accomplished, but this is not the time for false modesty. It is time to assess carefully what I have done and become. Only then can I chart a course for the next 30 years that will fill in the gaps or focus on the things that are emerging as more crucial. Mentoring, for example.

I may have taught a lot of classes and preached a lot of sermons, but my personal investment in the faith and leadership development of individuals in the next generation is something that I would see as a deficiency. This is not something that I can afford to be "too busy" to do. I am not sure what I have to offer, or who might be interested, but maybe I can find someone who will be willing to jump off the cliff with me (into the clear, refreshing pool of water under the Sugar Creek bridge).

One thing that I have learned when running negative splits is that the second half of the run requires more attention than the first. To run the second half faster than the first means that I need to pay attention and run a steady, but increasing pace. There is no room for wasted motion or charging up hills like a banshee. It may not look impressive to the spectators, but I know what it takes to make the second half faster.

If indeed the second half of my adult life does go faster than the first, I will need to be every bit as attentive to keeping a steady pace and not wasting time or energy. The pull to slow down and coast is ever present, but that pull must be fought and defeated.

What will it take to run the next 30 years better than the last 30? I am not sure what the answers will be. But I know that the second half needs to begin with asking the searching questions of mission, focus, and life purpose. Bring 'em on!

Pressing On,
-Ken

P.S. The wedding was beautiful and I have never seen the bride happier in her entire life--a good start!

Economic Realities

This week some of our friends and neighbors lost their house. It came as a surprise to me when they came over on Monday to tell me that they had moved out over the weekend. We have been neighbors for 12 years and my kids babysat their kids. We shared many a chat over the backyards and have shoveled more neighborhood driveways together than I would care to count. And now their house stands as a silent sentinel to dashed hopes and dreams, as well as the current economic realities.

More than the shock that the foreclosure crisis has reared its ugly head on the street where I live--and with good, solid, hard-working people--is the shock that I knew nothing of their distress. I don't know what I could have done, but I feel like there must have been something. Even if it would have been to let our friends know that they did not need to face this crisis alone.

Now it makes me wonder how many other people I know who look just fine on the outside, but are experiencing gut-wrenching hardships beneath the surface. I fully understand the whole, "I will take care of it myself" mindset. In part because I would probably be my neighbor--no one would know about the difficulty until it was a done deal. Self-disclosure, particularly of things that smack of failure to me, just doesn't happen. Some would say that I am missing the opportunity for support from those who care. I do not disagree, but I suppose that I am not yet convinced that it is worth the personal price.

Something makes me think that the early church would not have been caught unawares. Not that they were perfect, but that they were invested and involved with each other that a world-shaking crisis would not pass under the collective radar. I both want and need that kind of friendship. My current small group (the best in the universe) may be the environment for that kind of friendship. It sure feels like it has more promise than I have ever felt before. We seem to be able to be open and candid with each other about things that matter--the good and the difficult. The group is a breath of fresh air and I will miss them while I am in foreign lands the next few weeks.

I should let my group know how important they are becoming to me--and perhaps that will be another step toward real community.

Pressing On!