Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

  As I have shared across these many months, every so often I go visit my neighborhood dinosaur to see what season is being celebrated. This guy is always ready with signs of a prominent holiday or the changing of the season. Most recently, he was celebrating summer camp. Clearly, now, school is back in session. Backpacks and crayons, letters and numbers - even an apple for the teacher. I certainly hope this is a great year for the kids who live in the dinosaur house. The changing light, longer days, the bright lights of football and the roaring of hurricanes are all signs of the changing of the season from Summer to Fall. Time continues to roll. Life goes on with all its joy and challenge. New beginnings await. As a boy, I fell in love with the Bible stories that spoke of lives that had new beginnings. It seemed to me that anything was possible as I read of Ruth and Mary, of Peter and Zaccheaus. I still love those stories. They give hope. Not because everything turned out alright, but

  Some days, the butterflies are seemingly everywhere. They flit and fly and seem to never stop. Occasionally, they are captured perfectly in action, as on this sunny day. Amid the blossoms of purple the orange blur finally rests, balanced precariously on a point of green. Reminiscent of a gymnast sticking the landing or an ice skater coming to rest on the razors edge, it is a moment of balance and perfection. Albert Einstein writes, “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” The butterfly does not rest long; its stopping is a step on the way to the next flower. As we read the ever forward moving story of the Gospels, we find that Jesus is known to stop from time to time. But never for long. He went to find peace in prayer. He headed to Bethany to stay with his friends, Mary and Martha and Lazarus. But each stop was on the way to more action, more movement, as Jesus lived his life to the full. To find our way to meaningful and purposeful life is to lea

  As I walked near one of the construction sites on the church property, this lone Magnolia blossom caught my eye. This tree, like the individual Oaks that share this particular space, has fought its way back from the trauma of the big February freeze. The leaves are a mixture of brown and green, reminders of the struggle this past Spring held in terms of sheer survival. Then there is the flower. I walked around the tree, inspecting it from all angles. I looked it up and down. This blossom is the only blossom. There seems to have been none before and it appears none are waiting to open. The purity of the white stands out among the brown and green of leaves and the dust of construction. It almost seems a statement: I made it! In my journey with so many amazing people across the years, I have had the joy of seeing statements of having “made it”. The statements come in many forms. Some ring a bell at the end of treatment that conquered cancer. Others work for the benefit of children after

  What a beautiful morning it was as I walked past the sanctuary and, out of the corner of my eye, saw this display of color. As the sun rose, the stained glass window shared its colors with the room and painted the carpet of the center aisle with brilliant hues. It brought to mind the chalk art that I had enjoyed so much during the pandemic shutdown. I paused and enjoyed both the beauty of the moment and the memories. It has been a long journey since March of 2020. Many miles. Many emotions. Many changes. In these long months, we have all experienced stress and challenge, frustration and fear. There have also been the joys of friendship and family, some of which were rediscovered while other aspects blossomed fresh and new into our lives. Seasons have come and gone. Birthdays and anniversaries never stopped. Birth and death continued to rock lives, both in their own way. But as I enjoyed these colors I was struck, not with the changes of these many months, but with the constants. It i

  The days are slowly beginning to shorten as Summer fades and Fall approaches. With the changing of the seasons comes the changing of the light. As the sun was beginning to set, I walked into the world of lengthening shadows. Shadows break up the monotony of the blazing sun and give a different contour to the landscape. Shadows also give us pause to think of the different experiences of our lives. Between the sunny days of joy and ease and the hard and harsh trials of the night, we live much of our lives in the in between of shadow. Days that aren’t too bad or too exciting. Problems that are manageable and not overwhelming. When I was a young man in my 30s I was frustrated with my ministry. I went to visit my dad. I asked him if he had always enjoyed his work and found it fulfilling. He gave me a strange look and said, “Son, I worked my job for 42 years and never once asked myself that question. It was my job. I went to work every day. Provided for my family. That’s why they call it

  In the hour or so before dawn, I love to walk around the church. Traffic on the busy street is almost nonexistent. It is quiet and still. Rabbits scurry everywhere, and occasionally I have seen a lone coyote. The lights around the property play against the sky that will only be night for a short while longer. The result is often a sky that seems thick and heavy, even when there is to be no rain. It looks as if sound should be muffled and muted, as if after a snow. As the moon came into the same frame of vision as the cross, I realized this was one of those moments suspended in time. I was gazing up in a moment that straddled the line between night and day. It was both. It was neither. This moment belonged to itself. We can find ourselves feeling as if we are living in such a moment. Sometimes we feel “in between”. That can be a good feeling; things are changing and the new is right around the corner. New health. New opportunities. New experiences. New beginnings. Sometimes it can br

  While walking the property at church , I came upon these two delicate flowers. They are truly beautiful as they stand alone in the mulch. No weeds. No grass. No other flowers in sight. As I stooped down to take a picture, I saw the garden stone nearby. The stone is a memento that celebrates a great day in the life of our congregation with the words, “God is my Rock.” As I paused, I thought of the contrast of the rock and the flower. In one of most famous parables of Jesus, he speaks of the of the sower, the seed and the different types of soil. “That same day Jesus went out of the house and sat by the lake. Such large crowds gathered around him that he got into a boat and sat in it, while all the people stood on the shore. Then he told them many things in parables, saying: “A farmer went out to sow his seed. As he was scattering the seed, some fell along the path, and the birds came and ate it up. Some fell on rocky places, where it did not have much soil. It sprang up quickly, becau

  Another morning of summer rains and another afternoon of summer heat have come and gone as August moves toward September and the beginning of Fall. As the day draws to a close, I look to the north and find that this lone wisp of a cloud is all that remains from the downpour of the morning. Light and delicate like a single stroke of an artist’s brush, it paints the sky. Tagore writes, “Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.” I like that thought very much. This cloud gave me a little taste of that sentiment at the end of a good day. Yes, the storm blew in and the rains came, but that was not all there was to the day. There was kindness and laughter. There was productivity and gain. There was meaning and purpose, even in the storm. In the Book of Job we find these words, “God’s voice thunders in marvelous ways; he does great things beyond our understanding. He says to the snow, ‘Fall on the earth,’ and to the rain sh

  As I walked toward the rising sun, this flowering plant stood tall along the roadside. I had somehow missed its blooming; it seemed the transition happened instantly. I always noticed the green plant, but when had it sprung up and doubled its height? What a change! How straight and tall it stands! One of the joys of being a pastor is that I watch people grow. The beginning of the new school year always brings home the reality of how quickly people change. Little kids aren’t little anymore. Big kids aren’t starting a new year of high school but are off to college as young adults, leaving an empty place behind in my heart. After the summer, I find myself looking eye to eye, or looking up to, little boys I used to fist bump on their way into the building. Like the plant on the side of the road. they literally burst forth in growth and transformation. Isaiah writes, “For as the earth brings forth its sprouts, and as a garden causes the things sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God wil

  As I walk, I often enjoy the interesting combinations of objects that find themselves together. Gathered together on this table top, under the spreading branches of a great shade-giving tree, was the following lineup: a miniature watering can, a Buddha head, a Tyrannosaurus Rex and flower pot. Even more interesting, they all four had been planted with greenery. As different and varied as these objects are, they all serve the same purpose. And it appears that they will all do it well. I have always loved the Church, with all its flaws and struggles. I am one of those kids who grew up a church mouse and never left. As a child and youth, my social life was always centered in our church. When I graduated high school, I began working in churches. Now, after over 40 years, my life is still centered in the church. One of the things I have always loved about the Church is the variety of people that come together in the community of faith. People of varied backgrounds. People of different pol

  As I walked upon this house, I couldn’t help but wonder what I was seeing. I thought to myself that this must be either some current version of how to toilet paper a house in times not far removed from a pandemic TP shortage, or the most complicated crime scene in the history of forensic science. It took all the self control I could muster not to walk straight up the walk and knock on the door. My curiosity was at operating at full capacity. I’m certain that, at times, we look at the lives of others and wonder what in the world is going on. I’m also certain that, at times, we look at our own lives and ask the same question. Life can be very complicated. Life can be very messy. We often struggle to understand what we see in the lives of those around us, especially those whom we love the most. We often can’t recognize ourselves in the mess our lives can become. Paul writes, “Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All t

  There is nothing quite like the sky when the afternoon heat has caused showers to pop up here and there just before sunset. The sharp contrast between darkness and light. The way the clouds suddenly seem to loose ground to the clear skies. The way the sun seems to slowly win the battle to close the day. All these aspects come together to provide a snapshot of the beauty and power of creation. Such scenes also cause me to reflect on the way we feel in certain seasons of our life. Sometimes the darkness can be overwhelming. Sometimes it seems that the light will never break through. Just when we feel we have made it through a storm, another one pops up. In my work, I have had the holy privilege to walk along side others through such seasons in their lives. Their strength is astounding. Their ability to keep the rest of life going when trying to find their way in the storm speaks to a deep and abiding faith. But I think what has the greatest impact on me is the ability they have to be h

  In the course of my walk, sometimes things just seem to leap out and capture my attention. I would not be able to find the object if I was searching for it. But in an instant, out of a busy background, something comes into focus as I pass. It is always fun when it happens. Do you see it? In the backdrop of twisting limbs and curving vines, there grows a single plant, straight and tall. It appears as if it could have been added by an artist using a straightedge. In one way it seems to not belong. In another way, all the rest of the plants are merely backup singers. I have known some people whose lives are very much like this plant. I’m certain you have as well. Whether family, friend or coworker, there is something about who they are that makes them different in the best of ways. It is not because they draw attention to themselves or because they are overbearing in personality. No, it is because their is a quality to the way they look at others, a sound in their voice that offers what

  As school begins, it is evident that people are clearing out a few things around the house. The curbs have been more full recently. I imagine that families have been looking for things they need for school and finding stuff they no longer need. Or, they are making room for new stuff acquired for the new school year. Whatever the reason, things are getting interesting again on the day of trash pickup. I’m not sure why this old suitcase captured my attention on my morning walk. I suppose part of it is that it is “old school”. It reminds me of the days when you truly had to “lug” your luggage. No wheels. No lightweight space age materials. No telescoping handle. This discarded suitcase is from the era when you had to pick it up and carry it as far as you could go before you needed to stop and restart the circulation in your fingers. As my daddy used to say in reference to overgeneralized reminiscing, “I don’t remember the good old days as being all that good. I like my modern convenienc

  In the far corner of a parking area in our neighborhood park sits a dumpster. It is there for the sole use of city maintenance, I am sure, but it attracts the most interesting collection of trash between pickups. I approach this space from the farthest corner of the park, giving me plenty of time to guess what was added during the night as it all slowly comes into focus on my approach up the sidewalk. Sometimes I guess correctly. Chairs are easy, as are the random couches that are ditched here. From time to time, a desk, chest of drawers or table is left out in the weather. Five gallon paint cans, boxes and carpet scraps, pieces of tree trunks and limbs cut up with chainsaws, these are some of the common offerings left to the dumpster. But this morning was different. My first thought was of the old science fiction movie, “The Blob”, starring a very young Steve McQueen. I remember first seeing the film on television with my father on a rainy Saturday afternoon when we could not be abo

  As I walked through my neighborhood park, The thick green grass revealed a footpath created by those who choose to forego the sidewalk. As often as I pass this way, I had never noticed the worn grass before. It brought to mind the Frost poem, “The Road Not Taken”. It is one of my favorites, beautiful in every way. “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less trave

  Season after season, I am always amazed when this tree fights back for another year of life. It appears to be dead in every way, but somehow it finds a way to put forth green leaves and few new branches each Spring. By the end of summer, it isn’t symmetrical and it it isn’t pretty, but it is still standing. I admire this old tree. James writes, “Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.” Sometimes people go through times when the best they can do is hold on. I admire them as well. Year after year their hard situations endure. Yet here they are, finding a way to live in and through it all. It isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always squared away. But their life finds a way. They stand. These are heroes of faith to me. They aren’t famous. People do not quote them or post their lives on line. But these are the ones that show the way. These are the ones who shine in the

  As I walked through one of the hottest days of the summer, this solitary little flower was hidden in a shady spot. So small, with just the slightest blush of pink, it seemed very delicate. But then I realized that it was strong and vital in the midst of high temperatures and the long summer. This is one tough flower. I am always amazed at how strong people can be in the midst of the hardest of times. We often underestimate each other. We often underestimate ourselves. We often do this, not because we judge or fall prey to stereotypes , but because we care and just want to help. Due to the nature of my work, I have the sacred privilege of walking with people in both the best and the worst of life’s situations. I never cease to be in awe of the strength of others. People stand through what seems to be unbearable grief. Others stand steady in times of unbelievable stress and uncertainty. Bad news knocks us down and we get to our feet once again. We should draw strength from one another.

  Some days are just a challenge. Busy schedules. Difficult situations. Poor health. By the time the day is winding down, we are too. We are tired. Our energy is low. We are, both emotionally and physically, done for the day. But, sometimes, we can pause and embrace the truth that is before us each and every day - It is often when the day is done that it is at its most beautiful. As I made my way home last night, this brilliant, blazing orange ball followed me all the way. It was hard to not look at it directly. It was hard to keep my eyes on the road. The setting sun was absolutely beautiful. For some reason the sight of it led me to reflect on my day as I drove. For a few days I have not felt too well. It has been easy to be consumed with that and that alone. In fact, I need to confess something. I don’t do the sick thing well at all. I have been blessed to have little practice at it, and it shows. Acknowledging that fact made me grateful. I have people in my life who care about me a

  As I rounded the corner onto my favorite walkway at the church, I came upon a confusing sight. My first thought was, “what a big turtle!”. I have to admit I was excited as I approached. Who doesn’t get excited about a big turtle? What’s not to love about a big turtle? I pulled my phone out of my pocket and was ready to take pictures of my new reptilian friend. But, alas, it was not to be. That is when the situation became even more confusing. When I realized that the “turtle” was actually the top of a protective helmet, I looked around for any clue as to what happened here. Had there been a bike accident? Had someone been injured? How could someone lose part of their helmet and not be aware? Is someone riding around the neighborhood oblivious to the fact that they are unprotected? Would they notice when they removed their helmet and retrace their steps in an effort to find the missing pieces? All of us travel through life losing things along the way. We lose our naivety as we experie

  Imagine my surprise as I walked past this home and discovered the famous climbing tree of Heights Park. It seems that everywhere I see climbing walls or advertisements for climbing walls. They have become common place. But this was a first, a hybrid. The combination of tree climbing and wall climbing. One stop fun. In my childhood, we climbed trees. It was a serious hobby in the wooded area where I was born. We climbed high. We climbed every kind of tree. Sometimes we climbed up and thought we’d never find our way down. Down always seemed the trickier part of the enterprise. Part of the art of tree climbing was finding a way to get started. The best climbing trees had low limbs one could jump up and grab. Then you would swing your legs up and pull yourself up until you were sitting on the limb. Then you would stand up and start the ascent. We displayed our courage by how high we dared to climb. We felt free, unfettered from the bonds of earth and any responsibilities of chores back h

  Who is that peeking over my fence? As I walked through my back yard, I was at just the right height to see these beautiful blossoms as they appear to be peering into my yard. As interesting as this unexpected sight was, what is really interesting is the fact that this lovely plant is not growing on the backside of my fence. It is growing on the other side of my neighbors fence. In fact, it is growing on the other side of my neighbors fence all the way across the alley! This was a moment where it was clear how important a role perspective plays in our day to day lives, how our point of view makes the difference. When I was a little boy, I could always find my daddy in a crowd. From the periphery of the room I would look up and find the tall man with white hair. Then I would weave my way through the other people until I was by his side. One Sunday at church I spotted the hair, navigated my way over and wrapped my arms around his leg, as was my custom. But instead of the pat on my head