Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

  My favorite house in the neighborhood just keeps finding new ways to be cool. First, the big chicken. Then the colorful Aloe plant. Now a purple cactus. This place never offers an ordinary day; a sense of joy and playfulness draws in all who pass by.. I have known some people like that across the years. They live in such a way that they make each day a joy. They make life, well, fun. Regardless of age, they approach life with a childlike quality. They are playful and inquisitive and open to wonder. They draw others into their way of life. What a gift such people are to this broken world! Like a purple cactus, they stand out from the crowd. They are both in the moment and excited about the future. I have a hunch that it is to such as these that the hopeful future belongs. When I was a young pastor serving at a downtown church, one day I took my lunch break and walked down the street to a men’s store that was going out of business. They were having a big clearance sale, you know, a “Go

  Who can resist a huge pile of sand? No matter our age, it calls to the child within us, beckoning us to forget everything except the thrill of climbing up to the top of the mountain. When I was a boy, a popular soap opera began with the announcement: “Like sands through an hour glass, so are the days of our lives.” Sand serves as a metaphor for life in many ways. There are shifting sands. The wind blows and scatters the sand. There are “sinking sands” in an old gospel hymn I loved singing as I grew up in church. Henry a David Thoreau writes, “Time is like a handful of sand, the tighter you grasp it, the faster it runs through your fingers.” The more birthdays one has, the more one knows the truth of these words. Like the beautiful white sands of a beach, life is always on the move, constantly changing and shifting. Beautiful, but never static. Jesus taught that “Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the

  I like the moon. I always have. As a boy I liked to walk by the moonlight and sleep under the stars in the moonlight. I sat in front of a black and white television and watched the first humans walk on the moon. In my weak attempts at being a visual artist, one of the objects I most dreamed of painting was the moon. I love the way the moon seems to change. I love the moon’s soft and gentle glow in the darkness. I like the way some planets have several moons. The moon has inspired countless poets and painters and lovers and writers - and will continue to do so as long as we dream. I do so enjoy the work of those who capture some of the beauty and magic of the moon. Carl Sandburg writes, “The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.” The moon, in its constant course, walks with us through all life brings, all life long. Mark Twain saw something very different when he pondered the night sky, writing, “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” We do l

  As I walked today, I found myself curious about these drawers. How odd to throw out drawers and not the chest! What could they possibly be doing with a cabinet with no drawers? I would think that the question of getting rid of a piece of furniture with drawers would be an all or nothing proposition. Some things just seem to need each other to be whole. The longer I am working at this human being thing, the more I am coming to realize how much we need each other to be whole. This pandemic has revealed how important we are to each other. Even when we cannot be together in our more traditional ways, we have been compelled to find new ways of connecting. Zoom. FaceTime. Emails. Cards. Letters. Phone calls. Drive-by parades. On-line everything, from religious services to business meetings. Even many folk who like to be alone have reached their limit of being alone. We need each other to be whole. It’s not just the good times or the warm and fuzzy things that make us whole. We need the dyn

  It has been quite a while since my walks have brought me to such a curbside display. Back in the spring and summer, it seemed everyone was remodeling or painting or cleaning out their garages. In those early months of the pandemic, when we were all suddenly at home more, we all noticed things about our homes that needed refreshed or replaced. Everyday was an adventure of seeing what was put out on the curb for bulk trash pick-up. These folks put everything neatly in boxes, lined up in a row, only a few random things like the rolled-up rug lying loose on the grass - and even it was neatly arranged. I couldn’t help but imagine how immaculate the inside of that house must be! But what I loved most was the caution marker. I wonder if it means, “Hey, if you are driving your car on the sidewalk, please swerve into the street for a few feet to protect my trash!” Or, are their dangerous days all behind them and they no longer have need of a warning sign? I wonder. This image also brought to

  On this particular morning, I was surprised to find a zebra resting in the early sunrise. I pass this yard on every walk, so I am sure I would have noticed the zebra if it had been in that spot before today. As I paused and tried to wrap my mind around this new development, I suddenly realized that the zebra was not alone - I spied a giraffe in the shadows on the horizon. These small statues transform this very average, normal yard into the Serengeti. I was then caught up in memories of my own childhood imaginings. My favorite adventures of the mind involved the Amazon and space travel and sailing the sea. I’ve yet to make it to South America or Mars, and I still cannot swim. But the joy of imagination is not diminished by such details. Albert Einstein said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand." It is a shame that most

  As I have walked my way through the pandemic, I have shared how much I enjoy my neighborhood. The old homes, the beautiful lawns and gardens, the unique characters all add to the feel of the place. One of my favorite things are the large, old trees. All our houses were built in 1957, and it seems that shortly thereafter an Oak tree was planted in the front yard of most. They are magnificent. The Oak in the foreground of this photograph stands directly cross the street from my front windows. It is beautiful all throughout the year. At Christmas, the young family who live in its house hang lights in its high branches - stars and reindeer. In the Spring the new leaves are that spectacular shade of green. As I rounded the block at the end of my walk, I was struck with this image. All the Oaks on that side of the street lined up. They are the same age and the same size. They have endured the same heat and cold. They have weathered the same storms. They have stood silent witness to the sam

  This is Inauguration Day. Inauguration literally means, “a ceremony to mark the beginning of something.” We have the inaugural day of school, of a new job, of a new relationship. We all have experienced the thrill - and the unknown - of a beginning. Each new beginning is filled with possibility and hope. Each new beginning is filled with some level of uncertainty. Today we celebrate a hallmark of our nation, the transfer of power from one presidential administration to the next. This day of inauguration marks the “beginning of something.” Like today, every previous Inauguration Day began its “something new” in the midst of the challenges of that time. Each administration began with some citizens overjoyed, some citizens despondent and some cynical about the whole idea. As we come to this moment of change and new beginning, we can all be prayerful for peace on this day. Regardless of our personal political ideology we can all be prayerful that our country find healing in the face of b

  The Day After I decided this year to wait until the day after the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday to share my reflections. I shared an image of the man yesterday, with no accompanying words. I was influenced deeply this year in my own life by Howard Thurman’s wonderful poem about The Work of Christmas. I had known it for years, and shared it during the holidays. “When the song of the angels is stilled, When the star in the sky is gone, When the kings and princes are home, When the shepherds are back with their flock, The work of Christmas begins.....” I feel that way about this holiday, during this year, in this time. I am continuing to ask myself how I might do the work and better contribute to the dream so well expressed in the amazing work of Martin Luther King Jr. In what ways can I, being who I am, make a difference in the cause of equality for all my fellow citizens? How might I better express my awareness of the ways in which I benefit from the status quo that others do not? W

  On this cold, crisp morning I came across a most generous offering, presented beautifully at the end of a driveway. Two coffee makers and a can opener, set out on a table. They look brand new, free to anyone who needs them. It appears that one could take the table as well; the whole thing could be yours for the taking. No sign, no questions. Just a gift. Just like that. Wouldn’t it be nice if that which we really need was always so readily available and so easily obtained? What if it were this easy to find a trustworthy friend or a love with whom to share life? What if the answers to our big decisions were set on a table for us, clearly stated, just pick one? What if we could just pick up a goal or a dream to guide our life? But we can’t. The things we really need are seldom laid out in a display, waiting for us to walk by and pick up. Jesus said that the most important things in life are to be found by seeking and asking and knocking on a few doors along the way. That process is wha

  Is there anything more beautiful than a night sky? The different shades of cloud and clearing. The various intensities of moonlight and starlight. The sounds of the night earth; singing birds and rustling beast. Peaceful moments after a long, loud busy day. The Psalmist writes, “To Him who made the great lights, For His lovingkindness is everlasting: The sun to rule by day, For His lovingkindness is everlasting, The moon and stars to rule by night, For His lovingkindness is everlasting. The moon and stars rule the night. Yes, but their constancy is a reminder of the steadfast love of God. Each night they appear, doing their part in the rhythms of the universe, in the rhythms of our lives. Each time we see the beauty of the night we should answer with the praise, “God’s loving kindness is everlasting.” Sometimes we need the reminder. The night also reminds us that God does not punch a clock or go on vacation. God does not only work in the sunshine of the world, but in the darkness as

  I like those moments when I am at the church early, long before obligations and schedules break the dark solitude of the sanctuary. There is something peaceful and reverent about that transition hour. Between the dark and light, between the silence and the sound, lies a liminal space that recharges my spirit. On this winter morning, the sun was streaming through the stained glass at an angle that seemed horizontal. The result was this eye- catching display of color. It seemed as if we had somehow captured the Northern Lights. I paused just long enough to capture this image of colorful light dancing across the walls. I could not help but think of places in the scripture where colors play a part. I recall the rainbow placed in the clouds after the great flood as a promise from God. Of course, I thought of Joseph and his coat of many colors . Our sins are described as scarlet and forgiveness as white as snow. The foundations of the city in the Revelation reflected the rich colors of th

  I love this house. On my walks I always admire the owner’s sense of style. Fun lights of different kinds throughout the year. The legendary Christmas Rooster of Richardson. This art work that seems to grow as naturally as the true landscaping; that somehow, someway, belongs and makes perfect sense. I like the bold color and the fact it is front and center. These folk have pizazz and all the neighborhood is the better. They are who they are, and it shines through their home into the world. Jesus spoke of letting light shine into the world. “You are the light of the world”. “No one lights a lamp and hides it under a basket.” “Walk in the light.” “I am the light.” “The light is among you a little longer.” “Believe in the light so you may be one children of the light.” Who we are as people of the light needs to shine into the world. Like different types of electric bulbs, we have our own color and shade of light. Like different flickering flames, our light ebbs and flows and dances in th

  What a difference a day makes! Yesterday, dreary and snow. Today, sunny with color abounding! Yes, what a difference a day makes. I have often wondered how many times I have missed some amazing experience by just a day. If only I had stayed with it just a day longer. Might a relationship have found health again? Might I have learned to play that instrument or paint that landscape? Might I have come to a deeper understanding of God? Of myself? Might I have learned something life changing at that job or made a powerful breakthrough in that avocation I loved? What a difference a day could make. In the frantic pace and unrelenting anxiety of the world, it is easy to become frantic ourselves. It is easy to lose patience with those around us, with the process of change, with God. Then we lose hope. The Psalmist writes, “In the morning, Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait expectantly.” What a wonderful discipline for our daily living. “Waiting expec

  When winter comes to North Texas, it just bursts onto the scene. All at once, full force. Such it has been this weekend. Cold temperatures, grey skies, even a little snow. Dreary is the best word to describe the day. But I enjoy a little winter. The snow was beautiful, not enough to be a problem but plenty to make children - and adults - old fashioned “snow day” giddy. Winter comes f ull force to North Texas, but it departs just as suddenly as it arrives. The dreariness is not permanent. So it is with all of life. When we are discouraged, when we are afraid, when we are angry, it can seem that there could be no end in sight. The dreariness of our burdened hearts seems permanent. We lose sight of hope. When we lose hope, we can beat ourselves up, we can lash out at others, we can fall into ways of thinking that aren’t true to who we really are as people. Without hope, we can become lost in the dreariness of the moment. That is why hope is so crucial to a healthy life. We find these wo

  I don’t know about you, but after these past two disturbing and disappointing days, I was in the need of some hope. It is easy to become discouraged as we watch events unfold in the world around us. It is easy to become resigned to a bleak future if we listen to arguments that range from justification of the unimaginable to the pronouncement of the end of the world. I am interested in neither. I refuse to accept a view of the world that claims these be the only options. People of faith have another factor in the mix of life and how we deal with challenges and struggle. We have hope. We are not bound by what is or has been, nor are we limited in our vision of what may yet be. We believe that, even in those situations and choices that break both God’s heart and ours, God is with us and God is at work for the good of all people. This is not some naive way of looking at the world. It is a “roll up your sleeves and make a difference” way of life. Hope drives us to be true to the values of

There are no words to express the feelings evoked by the events of the past 24 hours in Washington DC. The images of people taking the nation’s Capital building by violent force, carrying the flag of an enemy combatant on those hallowed grounds and a mob refusing to accept the election and uphold the ideal of a peaceful transfer of power is incomprehensible. My heart is broken. I was raised by a combat veteran of WW ll. Patriotism was a thing in our home. A really big thing. A really, really big thing. I was taught how countless lives had been given to protect and defend the constitution. Countless more, like my father, gave years of their young lives in the cause. This was a scene my father could never have imagined. It is a scene I would have never imagined in my wildest imagination. Our country is in need. We need to change, but everyone seems to think that means someone else changes. If you would just change your opinion to match mine, if you would just change your vote to match mi

  I can’t think of a better word for all in the human family to choose for 2021 than this word - the word “kindness”. We need a wave of kindness to roll over us at every level of our life together. It costs no money to be kind. One can be kind wherever one finds themselves. A person can be kind regardless of age or social status. It is really a simple thing to be kind. Why, then, is it so difficult? Mark Twain writes, “Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.” Kindness really is a universal language. We all know the overwhelming feeling that comes with being on the receiving end of an act of kindness. We all know the overwhelming feeling of being on the receiving end of another’s vitriol and meanness. Why, then, would we ever act with animosity toward another? Through my many years of life as a pastor, I have seen the power of kindness at work. I have seen it transform the life of an individual and a family. I have also seen the destructive power of ugline

  As I passed the neighborhood park on this cold, clear, bright blue morning, I found something unusual - an almost empty park. I know it was early. I know it was cold. But it is rare to find our neighborhood feeling, or looking, so desolate. But I also feel that this scene was a good image of the new year. Wide open. Uncluttered. Fresh and clean. Filled with a sense of expectation. As I paused and looked out across the park, I could see in my imagination the children running and playing, carefree and laughing without restraint. I could see families, multiple generations, having picnics and taking pictures, flying kites and learning how to ride bicycles without the training wheels. In my imagination I caught a glimpse of a truly “happy” new year. This year can begin like this park on this cold morning. Our futures really are wide open. Our lives are yet to be cluttered with too many bad decisions or too many things we can do well without in these first days of 2021. Our hearts really c

  On this overcast morning I was struck by the image of these two trees. They are neighbors, living next door to one another in two yards, side by side. One is enduring the winter with its green heaves holding fast. The other, stripped completely bare by wind and winter. At times, we are like these trees. Sometimes feeling full and beautiful, we can handle whatever life brings with confidence and courage. We stand firm, the same no matter the season or weather. Or at least that is the way it appears to those looking in from the outside. In other times, we are laid bare. Sometimes life strips us of everything and we feel exposed to the world. It seems as if life stops and we are dormant for a time, waiting, hoping, for life to return. Oddly, both these trees do well. The winter passes and they awaken to new growth. As different as they appear now, come spring they will both be full and alive with leaf and bud and bird. They are what they are, so different yet the same. They follow their

  Well, we made it! 2020 has come to an end and this morning we awoke to a new day, a new year and a new beginning. We may have stayed up later than usual. We may have made a resolution or two. We may have made a toast or danced. But even if we went to bed at 9.00 o’clock, the old has passed, the new has come. This annual transition can bring mixed feelings. We may be thrilled to move on and leave things behind. We may have regrets, for things both done and undone, throughout the year. We may have big plans for what’s next or feel at a loss for direction. Thomas Jefferson wrote, “I like the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.” The future is, as of now, unwritten. Dreams have yet to be discouraged or sacrificed or broken. This new chapter of our life will fill pages now blank and clean, no smudges and no mistakes. What a gift to dream anew. I, too, like “the dreams of the future better than the history of the past.” The past can’t be pulled along into the future; t