Cold, rain, pain and redemption, part II

This is part 2 of a 3 part tale of woe (and possibly redemption) about my challenges encountered trying to bike my first 100 mile century ride. Read the first part here.

Electronic Trouble

I got a tenth of a mile in before I hit my first snag. So, if you're counting, that's roughly 1/1000th of the way done. At least that's as far as the computer on my bike said I had ridden before it promptly stopped working. 0.0 MPH, it read, but I was definitely moving some MPH, which was actually really frustrating. I mean, how was I going to take a picture of the odometer showing 100.0 miles at the end of the day if it wasn't working?

I pulled over at the end of the first block, as Jeremy and Alex waited for me. I adjusted the sensors. Nothing. I tinkered with the wires. Nothing. Just 0.0. We rode on and I began to realize how often I stare at my computer. I had no idea how far I was going now; how long it was until the next rest stop; how fast or slow I was moving. This was not a game-changing problem, but it was certainly more than a petty annoyance. Like my bike jersey, this was rather an important part of my ride day stuff, and now it was sitting there uselessly at 0.0.

After a time I let Alex and Jeremy go ahead and sat on the side of the road, tinkering with the sensors and doing everything I could think of to make my little electronic gizmo work. Adjustment after adjustment did nothing until finally, as a last resort, I took the computer off the clip on the handlebars and then clipped it back in. It reset. I held my breath and spinned my front wheel. After a second the sensors engaged and 1.9 MPH showed up on the screen. It was working! I actually laughed. Then, setting my bike back down, I pedaled quickly ahead to catch back up with my riding partners. My computer was working; my cold was manageable; the day was looking up.

Cold, rain, pain, and redemption, part I

This is part 1 of (probably) 3 posts about my quest to bike 100 miles. Read part II here and part III here.

A likely failure
 
This all started last spring.

I was a very, very amateur bike rider who had this idea that I could bike 100 miles. Never mind that I had never before biked more than 50. Never mind that the ride where I planned to reach the mythical century, the Minnesota Ironman, was only the second time I'd be on my bike outside this year (thank you very much cold, cold, terribly cold and snowy spring!). Never mind, I was going to do it.

And then I didn't. I rode that day and felt pretty good through the first fifty miles before it all fell apart. I had something like an asthma attack. Unable to breathe, I limped into the Afton rest stop, dry heaving, and decided after spending some time under the medic tent to go no further. Actually, for the record, I don't think the student medics there were going to let me ride any further. I was done 60 miles in; a long, long way away from 100, but it wasn't the end of the world. I had trained well for that ride but the reality was that I still probably wouldn't have finished. Even if I didn't have a breathing problem I hadn't done a great job with nutrition and, like I said, I hadn't exactly had much opportunity to train outside.

Century, take II

Fast forward to this past week and I was ready for redemption. I had targeted the Headwaters 100 for months, carefully tailoring a training plan and even managing to eat better in the weeks leading up to the event. I was ready to do it.

Until everything fell apart.

We all find different things in life challenging: Moses' calling, our calling

Scripture: Exodus 4:10-17

            In Nadia Bolz-Weber’s new book, Pastrix, she tells a story of her time as a down-and-out alcoholic comic in Denver like this: “When I was working as a comic, normal noncomic people would often say, ‘Wow, I don’t know how you can get up in front of all those people with just a microphone.’ To which I would reply, ‘Wow, I don’t know how you can balance your checkbook and get up for work each day.’ We all find different things challenging in life. Speaking in front of hundreds of people was far less challenging for me than scheduling dental appointments.”

            We all find different things challenging in life. There’s a lot of wisdom in that short sentence. I can resonate with that quite a lot. It’s not that I don’t find this whole preaching thing a challenge some of the time, but compared to, I don’t know, tending a garden or changing oil or cooking dinner I’ll take preaching most any day. Some of you would prefer those things to preaching—I don’t know why. I’m clearly normal; all of you are clearly strange… or maybe we are all challenged by different things.

The power of the "certain place" in fishing, hunting, and worship

Scripture: Genesis 28:10-17

            “Jacob left Beer-sheba and went towards Haran. He came to a certain place and stayed there for the night, because the sun had set” (Gen 28:10-11).

            When I go fishing there are many things that go into the best kind of fishing spot. We look for rock piles or weed lines or drop offs or saddles between islands—those kinds of things—and we do this because certain species will relate to these features of the lake at certain times. This is what separates an angler who knows what they’re doing from a person who’s out to have a few beers under the guise of fishing. The same principles hold for hunting or wildlife viewing. The good angler or hunter or photographer looks in certain places at certain times with certain conditions, because that’s where the fish or the deer or the wildlife are likely to be.

            This is so commonplace for anglers and hunters that we often fail to consider why the fish or the deer are there in the first place. What is it about this place that attracts them again and again? Probably it has something to do with food and shelter, or something biological that triggers them to return to that spot for mating or spawning purposes. Many of the same fish—and many of the same deer—visit many of the same places again and again so, naturally, it pays to look in those spots first.

My Preaching Stats

Because, let's face it, all pastors should have trading cards. Here--in order to procrastinate just a little on a dreary, really dreary, way too dreary (seriously am I in Oregon right now?) kind of Friday--are the sermons I've preached by books of the Bible.

Book	#
Genesis	19
Exodus	5
Leviticus	0
Numbers	1
Deuteronomy	1
Joshua	0
Judges	0
Ruth	1
1 Samuel	0
2 Samuel	4
1 Kings	4
2 Kings	0
1 Chronicles	1
2 Chronicles	0
Ezra	0
Nehemiah	0
Esther	0
Job	0
Psalms	12
Proverbs	0
Ecclesiastes	4
Song of Solomon	1
Isaiah	5
Jeremiah	1
Lamentations	0
Ezekiel	0
Daniel	1
Hosea	0
Joel	1
Amos	1
Obadiah	0
Jonah	2
Micah	0
Nahum	0
Habakkuk	0
Zephaniah	0
Haggai	0
Zechariah	0
Malachi	0
Matthew	6
Mark	6
Luke	26
John	19
Acts	6
Romans	6
1 Corinthians	6
2 Corinthians	1
Galatians	5
Ephesians	1
Philippians	0
Colossians	1
1 Thessalonians	1
2 Thessalonians	0
1 Timothy	0
2 Timothy	0
Titus	0
Philemon	0
Hebrews	0
James	0
1 Peter	0
2 Peter	0
1 John	2
2 John	0
3 John	0
Jude	0
Revelation	15

What a boring, un-annotated list that is! OK, here's something better. (Wait, you're thinking, this topic could be potentially not-boring? Maybe that's a stretch, but less boring perhaps.)

The key stats:
Total sermons: 165
# on the OT: 64
# on the NT: 101
OT books preached on at least once: 17 out of 39
NT books preached on at least once: 14 out of 27
Book preached on most often: Luke (26 times)
Books preached on more than ten times: Luke, Genesis (19), John (19), Revelation (15), Psalms (12)
# on the Torah: 26 (15.7%)
# on the History/Writings/Wisdom of the OT: 27 (16.4%)
# on the Prophets: 11 (6.7%)
# on the Gospels: 57 (34.5%)
# on Acts/Letters of the NT: 44 (26.7%)

You can't run away from the questions: Abraham and the binding of Isaac

Scripture: Genesis 22:1-17

            Difficult questions scare us. Seriously, we don’t like them. “What do you want for dinner?” is a challenging enough question most days; don’t even consider asking us anything deep and existential. Of course, since we don’t like these questions it’s a bit annoying when they show up in places like the Bible, because we like to think that we like the Bible. It’s convenient when the Bible says nice things we can agree with, but it’s not so convenient when the Bible actually challenges us with a situation, or a God, that we don’t like to imagine. 

Every one of us faces difficult questions in our daily lives—questions that we mostly choose to ignore, because they often hide in everyday situations. Here are a few:

Why don’t I do the things that I know I should do?

What is it that worries me about the future?

Why am I so afraid of making mistakes?

Why do I matter?

When should I speak up and when should I be silent?

What mistakes do I make over and over again?

And maybe most importantly: Why am I a Minnesota Vikings fan?

The most complicated of existential questions.

Faith, sports, and what is really important

An article for the Kittson County Enterprise, September 18 edition
 
            I remember vividly my high school baseball coach telling us as a team one day early in the season that baseball was the most important thing any time we were with the team for practice or a game. Outside of those times, faith and family and all sorts of things were more important than baseball, but during baseball time baseball was all that mattered. Rewind a couple hours and I had just listened to my choir director telling us that during choir rehearsal and performances choir was the most important thing. Outside of choir time other things were important, but when it came to scheduled choral events choir was all that mattered. Naturally, my baseball practices and choir concerts almost always seemed to overlap.

I get it. My coach and choir director were each teaching me about commitment, and hard work, and excellence. The lessons learned in any sport or activity can—and do—carry over into countless others in life, so I’m not going to pretend like baseball and choir did not matter. In part they make me the person that I am today. However, I do have to take issue with this idea that any sport or any activity is ever the most important thing at any moment in time. It’s not. I’m sorry.

Biking the farmland, setting goals, and what's ahead

Recently I have been riding my bike a lot. That's not really all that new, but for most of the last few years I've done a fair balance of running and biking and other things--swimming and basketball and Insanity and whatever else. But right now? Just biking. All the time.

There are a few reasons for this. One: I kinda like biking. Two: My knees appreciate the rest from running. And three: My main goal for this year was to do my first century--a 100 mile ride. Hopefully, 19 days from today, that goal will be achieved at the Headwaters 100.

So, I figured it might be time to let people know how things were coming along. I'm entirely certain that most people really don't care about details of training plans and whatnot, so for you, don't worry, I'm not going to get too into specifics. But one of the things I've realized recently is that people actually do enjoy reading about these kinds of stories--OK, I've actually only realized I enjoy reading these kinds of things; I have no idea if you do. I suppose you can vote by not clicking on the link the next time I post something like it.

New beginnings, nervousness, and God's proclamation that it's all good.

Scripture: Genesis 1:1-2:4a

             

            Last week I preached on the end, so where better to start with this week than the beginning (especially appropriate because this time of year is the beginning of a lot of things: a school year, Sunday School and Confirmation, choirs, sports seasons, you name it)? So, even as the seasons change, the harvest moves forward and the leaves start to turn, this is still very much a time for new beginnings. That can be good news and also bad news, because, even as we are excited by new things, we—human beings—just happen to also be really terrible at new beginnings. Even in the most subtly new situation we revert to our six-year-old self waiting for the bus on the first day of school. Even those of us who love going to school get nervous on the first day; and it's the same thing with a first day on the job, first day of parenthood, first day of retirement. For that matter, it's the same our first time driving a car; first time on a plane; first time ziplining; first time riding a bike; first time holding a baby. Every expert in every field had a first time, though by the time we consider them an expert they have honed their skills and made it look like they have been doing this forever. Of course they haven’t, and, depending on the difficulty of their area of expertise, they were probably darn nervous their first time. This is life.

Do you believe in miracles? Sports, narrative, and why we care about this so much.

This is a story about Chris Horner, but it's also a lot bigger than Chris Horner. This is a story about Lance Armstrong and Mark McGwire, Michael Johnson and Marion Jones. It's also a story about the 1980 Olympic Hockey Team, Texas Western, the Springboks, the Miracle Mets, and Buster Douglas. Heck, it's even a story about Rocky Balboa. So it's a BIG story, but we have to start somewhere. The question is where...

"For I know the plans I have for you"--Revelation, Jeremiah, and the telos of all things

Scripture: Revelation 22:8-21

            “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says God, “The first and the last, the arkhay and the telos.” Since I know all of you are experts in Ancient Greek I won’t spend too much time on this but, for my sake, let’s review exactly what that means. God is the Alpha and the Omega—already we’re using Greek terms here. The Greek alphabet runs from Alpha to Omega, like our A to Z. God is also the first and the last, and finally the beginning and the end—the arkhay and the telos. At first blush it seems like those words are just repetitive. If God is the first and the last then clearly God is also the beginning and the end. Silly Greek-speakers, English must just be a more efficient language.

            But actually the two words here—arkhay and telos—are far more interesting than that. When the Hebrew Bible was translated into Greek, into what is called the Septuagint, the first words in Genesis 1 were “En arkhay ayn ho logos.”[1] In the beginning was the word. About two thousand pages later, give or take whatever kind of Bible you’re reading, God is professed to be both in the beginning—the arkhay—and in the end—the telos. The word telos conveys both a final destination and a purpose. So, the telos of creation is not just the end of the world but its ultimate purpose as well. We have no word in English that can give us the same depth of meaning of telos, which is a shame because it means that our language does not allow us the same ability to see an end as definitively purposeful. It means it is hard for us to understand that God is not only the creator of the world, and God is not only the one who will bring about its end, but God is also the telos—the purpose and end for all life.