Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

  When I was a boy, I remember the heart-pounding fear of getting separated from my father in a crowd. I could always spot him, with his height and with his white head of hair. But with the crowd close, and with me being so small, I could not find a view that allowed me to look up for that sign that all would be well. I was lost in the crush of the crowd. I’m sure I was only lost for a moment or two, but it seemed like an eternity. Fortunately, my daddy was looking for me. He had a different point of view; he just had to look down to find me. As I grew older, and taller, I realized I was not lost at all. My daddy always had his eye on me. So it is with God. This verse on the bench in the baptismal garden says it all, “Nothing shall separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.” We can feel separated, but God always sees us. God is always looking. God is always finding, even in the crush of the crowd. Peace.

As I walked through the lovely baptismal garden/columbarium are at the church, I was deep in thought about many things. There is so much sorrow in the world. Among my congregation there are struggles and surgeries and the death of loved ones. After two years of avoiding it, after vaccinations and boosters to elude it, I had been sick with Covid. As I walked with all this and more on my mind, I saw these lovely lilies in the cool shade of a summer afternoon. And it hit me - it was still Easter. These lilies had once graced the chancel in our beautiful sanctuary during our Easter worship. They were carefully planted in this sacred space and are blooming again in all their glory. What a wonderful reminder to me and my heavy heart that it is still Easter. We read in 1 Peter, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” Pope John Paul ll wrote

  Every time I pass this plant and the leaves are ablaze in the sun, I think of the story of Moses and the burning bush. Moses, on the run from the Egyptians, has found safety on the backside of the desert where he will never be found. Well, he will never be found by anyone but God. He is herding his animals when he sees a bush aflame, but it does not burn up. This captures his attention and he draws near. He hears a voice calling his name and he encounters God in a life-changing way. And his encounter with God changed the world. We can encounter God in all kinds of places because God is everywhere we may go. God can speak to us in whatever way gets our attention, from a still, small voice to a burning bush. God has much for us, and God has much for us to do. The question is whether, like Moses, we stop and listen and say ‘yes’ to God. “When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!” And Moses said, “Here I am.” Let us keep our

  After the rain, these little day lilies raise their heads again toward the light. They seem to me to be the picture of hope. The storms may beat them down, but they always rise again, bringing beauty and joy. I needed this sign today, after the heavy storms of grief and pain that have settled over our land once again. The apostle Paul writes that “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” We seem to be in a time of groaning in this world, waiting for something new to be born, waiting for a new day and a new way of living together. We are beaten down by the storm and need some hope. The resurrection of Jesus holds the hope we seek. God is at work bringing life out of death, hope out of despair and joy out of sorrow. In the face of the world’s rejection of God’s love, God loves anyway. In spite of all we do to thwart God’s way in the world, God continues to move us toward a world of peace and love and compassion for

  At the end of a summer shower, I saw this fern, delicately dappled with drops of rain. The light shining through the clouds was perfect, softly highlighting the shades of green and the glistening droplets. In that moment, it was impossible to think of the high temperatures we have experienced already this year. In that moment, it was impossible to think of the extreme cold of the past winter. After a Spring that set records for the number of days with winds over 35 miles per hour, the calm of this moment seemed magical. And then the news of yet another school shooting left me speechless. Now the tender green plants seem as innocent children, gathered in a place where they should be safe. The droplets of rain seem as the tears of God, broken hearted at both the loss of life and our lack of resolve to address this inconceivable violence. The Psalmist writes, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit”. God is with the family and community. God is

Is there anything as dazzling as sunlight on water? Whether a massive ocean, a small mountain lake, a swimming pool or a puddle after a sudden shower, when the rays of the sun hit the surface, magic happens. Imagination has no limit. Do we see stars? Do we see the universe ? Do we see shifting dunes of colored crystals? Do we see the waters of creation from which all life came forth? Light and water have been powerful symbols across ages and cultures and religions. The light of knowledge. The water of life. Joy and new birth. Cleanliness and purity. In my tradition, water and light are represented by baptismal font and candle. In the stories of creation in Genesis we read, “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. The earth was without form and void, and darkness was over the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. And God saw that the light was good. And God separated the

  The news of yet another school shooting has left me angry, broken-hearted and despairing. Join in praying for the families of the victim’s, the survivors and the entire community of Uvalde, Texas. But also pray for an end to this madness. Pray for elected officials who have the power to address this ever-increasing violence, that they will put duty first and act responsibly. Lord, in your mercy, hear our prayers.

  I don’t know about you, but as I came upon this beautiful yard the word that filled my mind was stability. Doesn’t it look as if all is right with the world, at least at this address? The perfectly aligned stone border. The edged lawn. The trimmed bushes. The classic street lamp. The swept walkway. All of this has the feel of stability to me. I suppose that it is the state of things in the world that drew my mind to the idea of stability. War. Inflation. Mass shootings. Baby formula shortages. Divisions. Extremism. Loss of trust in institutions. So much is swirling around that can easily make us feel as if the ground is shifting. It is no wonder that we find a sense of stability illusive. Jesus acknowledged that the world would always be tumultuous and unstable. What he offered was stability in the face of whatever comes our way. “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 rain fell, and the floods came,

  It seems that, during this season of my life, my mind is often turning to the power of the small. So often we look for the big things in life. Big events. Big houses. Big plans. Big celebrations. Big opportunities. Big corner offices. Don’t get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with big. Big can be really good. But there are a lot of small things in life that are wonderful and powerful and meaningful in their own way. These little pink flowers amid the broad expanse of green are easy to miss. I think I probably passed them by on more than one occasion. But their beauty is astounding. What a big difference this little touch of color makes in the world. Our small acts of kindness and compassion toward our neighbors make a big difference in the world. Our small acts of generosity make a big difference in the life of someone who is hungry. Our small acts of taking time to truly see and to listen make a big difference in the life of a struggling person. Small is too often, and too easily,

  Now this is what is known as a spring green lawn! I had to do a double-take as I passed this corner yard. I have no idea what they used to treat this lawn, but whatever it was, it worked! The lawn appears otherworldly, so thick and tall and uniform. It also appears as if it would be extremely soft to the touch. I don’t remember ever seeing a lawn that I would describe as “fluffy”. Until today. If I were this homeowner, it would be a challenge to make myself mow this yard for the first time. Even though I know it would look equally awesome all trimmed and edged, there is something about this natural, unkempt state that is so appealing. Nature has done a good job with this lawn, one that I could never duplicate. In this season when school years end and our children move on to other things and another year, we can see how they have grown. Some grew in ways we imagined, following along with the projections for knowledge and maturity. Some follow a little different trajectory. They grow a

  As the spring season melts into the heat of summer, another school year draws to a close. I do not understand where the time goes; it seems as if we were only months ago welcoming kids and their families into our preschool. But graduation day arrived this week with all the laughter and tears that come with realizing our little ones are not so little any longer. In preparation for the ceremony, a backdrop was placed on the chancel and this magnificent display of balloons was put into place. Balloons shaped like stars and suns and apples. Balloons in every color, striped and solid. They picked up the colors in the stained glass windows and lit up the room. It was both fun and beautiful. But my favorite thing about the display was the balloon at the top with the word “HOORAY” in bold black letters. It seemed to capture the essence of the day. Hooray, we completed another year of preschool! Hooray, we are going to kindergarten next year! Hooray, our parents and grandparents are here! Hoo

  Early in the morning hours, as I crossed the parking lot toward my office, I walked into this view of the moon reflecting the light of the sun through the clouds and the darkness. As I approached the building, the trees hid this image from my sight. It was quite a joyous surprise to take in the scene. I emerged from the cover of the trees with the moon and cross aligned perfectly. It was beautiful. I find such moments to be powerful. They are not planned. They do not last long. They are a serendipity that comes as a gift. My first reaction to the sight was to feel small. As I looked to the heavens I realized the vastness of creation. We human creatures spend most of our time living as if we are the center of the universe. This sight provided instant perspective. But then I was touched by the image of the cross standing between the heavens and myself. I am so small and God can seem so far away. God is Holy and I am flawed. God’s love is steadfast and I am tossed about by the winds of

  Sometimes it can seem too much, can it not? The war continues to rage. Inflation is at the highest rate in years. There seems no end to mass shootings. The challenge of getting our minds around a million deaths due to Covid is overwhelming. The list could easily be continued to a depressingly painful length. Add to that a stymied system and a cynical public and it can seem, at times, too much. Yet, all around us are glimpses of kindness and compassion. Early one morning last week I found this message chalked on the sidewalk at the main corner of our park. How wonderful to see parents involving their children in caring for those in need. How wonderful to see the teamwork between families and an established nonprofit. I was surprised at how much seeing this open invitation to the neighborhood brightened my day. It is too easy to forget that people care. This message also reminded me that we should not wait and look for signs of hope and caring in this troubled world, we should be those

  I have taken photographs of this spot several times across the different seasons of the year. Each time I walk past, I am fascinated that such a spot exists in my neighborhood. With the thick growth of trees and the variety of docks from each home lining the shore, it is so hard to imagine we are in the middle of a huge urban area. Only the power lines high above distract from the scene. It is as if somehow a rural locale was dropped into the middle of the city. Sometimes we can feel out of place. We can live under the weight of not fitting in, of not understanding the behaviors and attitudes of those around us. We can feel alone at times in our commitments and convictions. We can embrace a lifestyle that seems out of step with the masses. Yes, we can experience feeling out of place. The early followers of Jesus were a hodgepodge of people with all kinds of stories. As they embraced the Good News that God’s love erases all the boundaries between us that we work so hard to define, the

  As I walked the streets of my neighborhood this week, I was thinking of how quickly the end of the school year was approaching. My mind turned to those in my congregation who will graduate high school over the next few weeks. Several of these young people will be leading our worship services this coming Sunday. It is always a great day in the life of our community. I suppose that is why these unopened Magnolia blooms caught my eye. The many Magnolias in our neighborhood catch my attention each year, but only after the large white flowers open and their fragrance has filled the air. But these seemed to me a wonderful image of becoming. The buds are there, they are on the verge of opening, but they are still becoming. It is almost graduation day for the Magnolias. Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 13 that, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.” Life is a journey of becoming who

  My neighborhood is home to an abundance of non-human creatures. Rabbits are everywhere. Birds fill the trees. Bobcats and coyotes roam. I would guess that squirrels probably rival the humans in terms of numbers. The towering oaks that make our streets so lovely provide a squirrel paradise. As I rounded a corner, this neighbor was eating a snack on a patch of cool lawn. Instead of scurrying away as I approached, it decided instead to strike a pose, perhaps showing me its best side for this profile shot. I waited for the squirrel to run away, but it just stood still. It was a bit of a standoff. The squirrel won. I had to be on my way. Such moments remind me that we are all creatures loved and sustained by the same Creator. We read in the Book of Job, “But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know

  It is almost that time of year. The wildflowers are popping up in our neighborhood park and I am ready for the color and the smiles they bring. I am appreciative of the city for the sections of the park set aside for the flowers. It seems a small thing, I know, to commit a spot of green space here and there to be free from mowing for a few months. But the result of that small thing is huge. This small act creates space for great beauty to grow. This small act changes the landscape for anyone who drives or walks past. This small act provides the backdrop for pictures of children and families. This small act speaks to me as an acknowledgment of the Creator and a sign of respect for creation. Small things. So often unnoticed, so often overlooked, but what a big difference small things can make in a life or in the world. I can remember moments in my life when a small act on the part of another made a big difference for me. I recall that word of encouragement from a Jr. High teacher that

Once again I was fortunate to walk by the sanctuary at exactly the right time to receive a gift. On this day, the sun was coming through the cupola in such a way that it was as if someone held a huge magnifying glass to the light and focused it precisely where the two bars of the altar cross meet. Even in the full light of day and room, the cross glowed. Imagery of light in the darkness abounds, as it should. There is great power in the truth of one candle piercing the darkness and of the light that the darkness cannot overcome. This scene in the sanctuary led my mind in another direction. It made me think of the light that is strong enough to shine in the fullness of day. I have known people who were that type of light to my world. Not only in the shadows of hard times, but in the sunshine of good times they brightened my days and guided my path. Their lives brought joy and love wherever they were. Their lives inspired others to kindness and compassion. They glowed, even in the full l

  The proof of someone getting a new fence is another sure sign of Spring in my neighborhood. Each year the transition in seasons can be marked by the sudden appearance of neatly stacked piles of aged panels of wooden fences placed at the curb. Someone has big plans for a beautified backyard. I wonder what else is involved in the transformation? New landscaping? Pool repair or construction? A new patio? A new lawn? Who knows? But the key to the transformation is the new fence. The fence defines the canvas on which all the other work takes place. The fence defines the space. In his poem, “Mending Wall”, Robert Frost proclaims that “good fences make good neighbors”. Though he spoke specifically of working with a neighbor to repair a New England stone wall, the truth is universal. We need to know what defines the space of our lives. Jesus spoke of the things that should define our lives. We should treat others as we would wish to be treated. We should love God and our neighbor. We should

  I could not begin to tell you how many times I have passed this interesting plant as I wander through my neighborhood. Over the years it has grown and grown. What was once a small plant nestled in the corner between the sidewalk and the driveway can now be seen from far down the block. It seems to have grown faster over the past year or so. Now it makes me smile and think of “Little Shop of Horrors”. I now refer to this plant as Audrey. The shape of the plant brings to mind the image of arms reaching upward. Sometimes I picture a crowd of people, caught up in excitement and joy, celebrating life. At other times, I imagine a tangled mass of people desperately struggling to rise above the oppression and violence that has overtaken their world. In both of these images, the arms reach out for a connection beyond themselves. In both these images the hands reach upward, seeking something more. And in my imagination, whether they know it or not, both groups are reaching out for God. The Psa

  I can think of no other way to describe this scene other than to say that this is a happy tree. How could one pass by this yard and not smile? Four bird houses grace the branches, each house unique. One is in the shape of a guitar, another a toadstool, another a vintage milk can and one appears to be inspired by a hut from some tropical paradise. This little neighborhood within a neighborhood even has a grocery store; a bird feeder hangs in the midst of the houses. It was all quiet when I happened by. All the residents were off doing what birds do, I suppose. I imagine them making their rounds through the neighborhood as I do, though they bring music and color along their path. Like their human neighbors, I picture them all returning home at roughly the same time in the evening, calling it a day and resting up to start all over again with the rising of the sun. I enjoyed coming across this little community. For some reason it made me aware of how we all need each other as we go throu

I see this tree almost everyday. It lives a few doors down the street from my house. Over the past several years, it has been battered and broken by many storms. In fact, after each damaging storm, tree trimmers have come and done their work to save the tree. The result has been that the three main upward reaching trunks of the tree have been shortened. This towering tree has grown shorter through the storms. But this Spring I noticed something. Out of the surgical repairs to the three trunks has come new growth, each one growing in a rounded shape as if it were a separate tree. The result is a totally new look for this faithful old tree. It looks like three scoops of ice cream atop some huge waffle cone. Or perhaps they bring to mind the looming towers of some massive church sanctuary. The tree has come back strong; it has come back different, but beautiful still. The prophet Isaiah writes, “See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in t

  As I walked through the neighborhood, seeing what there might be to see, I was instead struck by the sounds I heard. In my short walk, I was aware of the many sounds of summer. In just one block I twice heard the steady click-click-click of sprinklers watering the lawn. This brought back memories of the hot Arkansas summers of my childhood. Playing in the sprinkler was big fun in those days. I also heard the sound of a lawnmower, which in the summer is the constant soundtrack of our streets. I heard the conversation between father and daughter as they rode past, one on a big bicycle and one on a tiny one. The little girl was obviously enjoying her time with daddy. I heard the clatter of who knows what as people worked in back yards and garages, getting ready for summer. I heard the raucous call of birds filling the trees with movement and life. Yes, the sounds of summer were everywhere. We read in the book of James, “My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be