Catching up...

Well, it's been a while. I think life has been moving at such an insane pace over the last few months that I haven't been able to really settle and process everything enough to write. This post isn't on anything in particular really...just catching up on life so that maybe I will write more often that I have been.

Looking back my last post was in September, 2013. In my mind's eye that was the month before my own train sort of jumped the track and it took a while to get back on. October was a difficult month. Somewhere along the way my job fatigue, the feeling of being trapped on the island and in life in general finally caught up with me and I found myself running into a very large, very hard wall. What seemed like a night of simple sleeplessness, which I'm not completely unfamiliar with, turned into two nights, and then three. Silly, irrational fears began creeping in and taking hold. I didn't feel comfortable in my own space, Chester's presence as he tried to comfort his human was more of a nuisance than a comfort. That just made me feel guilty which piled on the rest of the crazy range of emotions that were crashing in at one time. I felt like I was a walking panic attack nearly all the time. Even Grayton and Henry's precious, happy energy was more that I could handle. The only place I felt safe was in my parent's house, so for about a week my apartment was a place I stopped by between Dauphin Island and Fairhope to change clothes and feed my little guy and then get out of there as fast as I could. It was, in a word, awful.

Have you ever been that scared? God, it's just terrible. I was so lucky that I had a small group of friends and especially my family, who saw me through these few weeks of hell, all of them with their own unique gifts and ways of pushing or pulling or talking or laughing our way through this while life went on around us. I saw my doctor and started seeing a therapist, got a double diagnosis of General Anxiety Disorder and PTSD (damn hurricane...), and a lovely little green pill that just levels everything out...that is...once the 2 weeks of feeling completely flat wares off and the goodness kicks in. The sun started coming up, and my own space wasn't so scary anymore.

But. Nothing else had changed. It was becoming more and more difficult to even tolerate my work life. But a few weeks later, in early November, that all came to an end as well. Even thought it wasn't with me finding the perfect job and walking out with a plan, the morning Dauphin Island and I parted ways was probably the most liberating of my life in recent years! I had no clue what was next or where the rent was coming from, but I knew I didn't have to go back there. ever. again. I could have thrown a parade I was so happy. I can't say that my parent's were as excited, but I think that once the shock wore off and I hit the grown running with a new lease on life and a spring in my step, even they knew it was going to be ok. The debt of gratitude I have for them is so enormous I'm not sure I'll ever be able to show them, not to mention the practical help they gave me as well. I spent the end of November thru mid January working in retail while seeing what else was out there, and after a few mis-steps, an opportunity arose in Destin.

Within a month of the first conversation with my new company, I had a job, a new apartment, was moving out of Mobile, and away from everything comfortable to work in a 3 story building, overnight, all by myself. Now, the girl that was afraid to sleep in her own apartment less than 4 months prior would have laughed in your face if you'd told her that was her next gig. Is it ideal? Not in the least. But, it's a step. And, it's not on Dauphin Island. Praise God.

Of course, in the middle of this Curt, Sellers, and family were making seminary decisions, there were other health issues and major sadness in other parts of the family. Thanksgiving. A traumatic Iron Bowl. (ugh). Christmas. Life.

So, here I am. Almost six months into a new job. Company benefits have kicked in (first time I've ever really had those). Potential is there for mobility. My space is new and fresh and mine. I'll explore Destin more in the fall when all these people go home. The Curt Kennington's move to New York City in less than a month, and there are all kinds of emotions and realities that go with that, but it's exciting and a dream come true for him, so we celebrate that.  A new little life is growing in New Orleans. More celebration. Life goes on.

If we seem a little worn out, this is part of the reason why. But this family does what we've always done, and what most of you do as well. We hang onto each other, walk through the hard stuff, celebrate the good stuff, and remember who were are and whom we represent. And, we look forward - to whatever comes next.

Love.

12 years later.

I remember.

I woke up this morning a little earlier than I did 12 years ago today. Some things are similiar. I'm alone in my apartment. I'm not working today. My family is spread out in various cities. It's a warm, sunny day. And in a little bit, I'll go to the church to do a little work. God willing, that's where the similaries end.

I remember that I feel asleep on my couch with the TV on. When I was aware of that fact it was early on September 11, 2001. I could hear Matt Lauer talking and breaking some news about an explosion in one of the towers. I sat up and rubbed my eyes and reached over to pick up my glasses. It seems as though as soon as I put them on and could see clearly that my first image of that day was the same as many others: the second plane.

I sat captivated and horrified for what seemed like forever. Suddenly, I had the need to speak to my parents, my siblings, and my then-boyfriend, who was across the country serving in the Unites States Navy.

Dad was on the road to Pensacola. Mom was in the doctor's office with my Grandmother. Jessica was at work. Curt was at home. Everyone said the same thing. "I'm ok." But we weren't. No one was ok. My brother was the first to really express this. I remember him saying that he just didn't want to be alone. Neither did I. I checked in at Trinity to see if anything needed to be done, but they were in the same shape as everyone else at that point. I forced myself to get up and get dressed, get food, and go meet Curt as he opened up the fly-fishing shop he worked in. Even that early in the day flags were flying. On every house and building. Little flags were stuck nearly any thing that would hold one. They were everywhere. I spent the next couple of hours with Curt and a few other folks that came into the shop. I don't think anyone bought anything. Just came in and talked and cried and shook their heads and watched the TV that we'd rolled into the store from the office.

After some of his fellow workers came in and we'd forced down some food, I drove to the church. By that point Dad had called and ordered the church doors open and said he was on the way back and there would be a service that evening. I went home and helped with the phone tree to get the word out. Along the way, more flags. More churches with their doors wide open and signs saying 'open for prayer'. And, later that evening, Trinity, along with every other church, synagogue, temple, and mosque were full. And it would stay that way for days.

I couldn't go to sleep that night. I think I was afraid to close my eyes. I checked in with the folks I loved one more time for the day and lay there fighting sleep, until it mercifically won and that horrible day was over.

I don't remember what I did 12 days ago. But I remember every minute this day 12 years ago. And I know my story and my memories are not unique. As I write this I can hear the names of the more than 3,000 people being read again from the site of the attacks. My parents woke up this morning in New York City. The rest of us are still spread out. In Fairhope, getting ready for a morning at pre-school, there are 2 little boys that have no idea why this day is important, and thankfully have never seen such horror. Facebook is flooded with pictures, stories, and rememberances. And there's some football and cartoons and birthday wishes thrown in as well. And that's good, because we do more forward. But, this day and those images are burned in our memories forever. It doesn't take much for the tears to flow. Emotions remain raw and at the surface. And, in my opinion, they should.

We can't forget. We just can't. 12 years ago there were words and names like Al Qaeda and Hamas and Hezbollah that we didn't know how to pronounce much less know what they are. We've seen over a decade of war. The flags went back inside. Church doors are not open day and night. We're back to fighting among ourselves. But today, somehow, even if for just a moment, we are united again. In pain. In resolve. In growth. In determination. In prayer. As humans. As Americans.

Sometime today, do something in honor of those who died and worked to save others. Take cookies to the firestation. Plant flowers in your neighborhood. Give blood. Stop work a little early and go on a picnic with your family. Laugh, alot, with children who don't know yet why today usually brings tears. Say a prayer. Light a candle. Make something beautiful. Cry. Read the names. Watch the footage.

Remember. Always remember.

 "Almighty God, who brings good out of evil and turns even the wrath of your children towards your promised peace: Hear our prayers this day as we remember those of many nations and differing faiths whose lives were cut short by the fierce flames of anger and hatred. Hasten the time when the menace of war shall be removed. Cleanse both us and those perceived to be our enemies of all hatred and distrust. Pour out the spirit of peace on all the rulers of our world that we may be brought through strife to the lasting peace of the kingdom of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen." (Collect for September 11 from the Diocese of New York)

Turning left

I was on the campus on Springhill College tonight for a program of the Christian Jewish Dialogue. Springhill is a beautiful campus at the highest point in Mobile. I was looking for Byrne Hall and entered the campus as I normally do, from the Dauphin Street side, and began to cut through the golf course. As I began to pass by familiar buildings in a direction that used to take one across campus, I discovered a parking lot and sidewalks. Hmm. I backtracked and began a journey to the other side of campus and the Avenue of Oaks where I knew that Byrne Hall was. Past the baseball field, through the dorms, past Stewardfield, and down the Avenue, where I could see the hall across the soccer field. But I couldn't get to it. So I backed up. This went on for about 20 minutes. Finally, when I found myself at my starting point, I asked a student where to get to my destination. He directed me back around the ball field and dorms and said "when you get to a point where you either have to go left or right, turn left...and then keep going." Just before I drove away, he repeated that sentence. "When you get to a point where you have to go left or right, turn left." As I drove away, I chuckled and thought to myself how many times in my life should I have just turned left?

I love being on college campuses. That strikes me as funny since college was not the greatest experience for me in the beginning.  I went away too soon to the wrong school with no clear direction. Small town. No car. Knew no one. Painfully afraid and unsure. It was a miserable year.

The rest of my undergraduate career was a series of mistakes and misturns. Two transfers, 3 major changes, and a lot of heartache. When graduation finally came I swore that was it. I was finished with school. Well, that was two Masters degrees ago. And if it didn't cost so damn much, I'd probably pick another subject and do it again.

Some of this is a love of learning. But as I was driving thru the campus tonight, I saw students playing soccer, walking to the dining hall, digging thru backpacks. I looked thru the lights of the windows covered in fraternity letters and purple Badger banners. What I realized was that I envied them. For them it's all new. All out in front of them for the first time. And I really, really wish I had the ability to go back to start college again for the first time, and get it right.

I wonder. Where would I be if I had taken my parent's advice and stayed home for a year and got my feet wet? Where would I be if I had listened to my English 101 professor's suggestion and majored in Journalism? Where would I be if I had gone to a school and experienced college and all it's supposed to be instead of taking a full load and working all the time? Would I be married or have a family? Would I have a more fulfilling career? Where would I be if I'd just closed my eyes, and turned left? 

The answer, of course, is that I don't know. And the rest of the story is that there are people and places and experiences that I would not have had if any of my life had been different.  And I know I can't live a life of regret, although I'll admit that's a tough pill to swallow when I look at my student loans and degrees that seem to be getting me no where. Of course I wish that I could quit my job and decide tomorrow that I'm just going to write, or bake, or go back to school for something really cool like historical preservation or anthropoghy or religion and start this trek all over, but unfortunately bills and responsiblity will not allow, and the department of education and South Alabama won't let me trade in the degrees I have. So I guess I just keep moving forward and try to get to that place that fulfills me, whereever that turns out to be. But oh, to have a chance for a do-over - to have it all in front of me again. To have the chance to get to that point where you have to turn right or left...

I found Byrne Hall. Once I turned left and followed the road to the end, instead of stopping when I got uncomfortable, I found I was right where I needed to be.

Newtown, CT

I have clothes that need folding. My kitchen isn't as clean as it needs to be. There are things to do. But tonight, these things just don't seem to matter very much.

It's nights like these that I hate living alone. Not because of fear. But because there's no one to talk to. Nothing to connect to except the images on a tv screen or thoughts on social media or a text. It's not the same as either coping together or at least having a distraction. So I write because it's what I can do. And of course, I pray.

I ache for the families. I ache for the community. I ache for the children that survived and pray that they can do whatever they need to do in order to heal and feel safe again. I weep for the fear that must have been felt in those classrooms. I pray the physical pain was quick. The emotional pain will not be. I grieve for the parents who got the call, went to the school, and received the most horrific news.

After the Colorado theater shooting I wrote about the need to pay closer attention to what's going on around us and perhaps stopping the next tragedy from happening. And over the next few days, we'll see the shooter's picture and find out his story. There will be people who knew things. All the same questions will be raised. And, of course, the gun control debate will rage. This guy killed with hand guns, but there were assault weapons in his car. [Editor's note: it was later confirmed that the shooter actually did use the assault weapon to kill the children and adults, shooting each one multiple times. The hand guns were in his pockets.] Why the hell anyone needs one of those is beyond me.

But today was different. Today was too much. It was in the tone of the reporters as they tried to keep up with information. It was in the faces of law enforcement. It was in the tears of our President.

They were babies, most of them. They were innocent, beautiful babies.

I am not a parent, and I doubt, at this point, that I will be. For whatever reason, God, in His infintite mystery, has not blessed me with that precious opportunity. However, one does not have to be a parent to love the children in their lives. My office and home are covered with pictures of Grayton and Henry. Parents will tell you that they never knew they could love so deeply as they do their own children. I'm here to tell you - that feeling applies to aunts as well. I never understood it until I held both of them for the first time, and I know how precious my time and relationship is with them. It was impossible to keep their faces out of my head today.  I can't imagine. I just can't imagine.

In a text exchange tonight my sister wrote this: "There is an evil in this world that makes my bones shiver...this evil that infiltrates the hearts of the most vulberable and then unspeakable things happen and the most innocent suffer. And my only comfort is that those babies are in the warm arms of God."

Indeed, the only comfort.

O merciful Father, whose face the angels of thy little ones do always behold in heaven; Grant us stedfastly to believe that these thy children hath been taken into the safe keeping of thine eternal love; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen

The Measure of a Man

In so many ways were are a socitey that quits. We want instant gratification and satisfaction and we want things to be easy and if we don't get our way....we quit. It's easier than working on the hard stuff. For me, however, the satisfaction that comes from earning something is far greater than that which is just handed to me. Easier? No. But far more satisfying.

Let me tell you about someone who didn't quit.

17 years ago, my brother was doing what every other high school graduate was supposed to be doing. He visited colleges, filled out applications, experienced the disappointment of not getting into his first choice, and then experienced the fear and anxiety that comes from watching your parent drive away after helping you move into your dorm. He was 10 hours from home. No car. Only a couple of familiar faces. No real idea of what path he was on, or at least not that he revealed at the time. He did the same thing I did when I transfered to my second wrong choice of colleges. When given the chance to take the easy way out and come home, he stayed put. Even though his heart and head were both screaming 'don't leave me here.' It was a long year for Curt. A city he loved. A college he'd been excited about. Both the wrong choice. But he didn't quit.

This began a journey of college hopping, major changing, moving from house to house and roommate to roommate. It led to a long term relationship with the wrong girl. It led to heartbreak, anxiety, fear, and sadness. But he didn't quit.

I don't think Curt has never been comfortable in a classroom setting. I think he finds it's stiffling, and I can understand that. I feel that way about working 9-5 in an office. So Curt's college journey has been...well...long. I remember nights when he'd come into my room or wherever I was studying for my own finals or writing my own paper. After I watched him pace for a while, I'd finally get out of him that something was due or there was a test the next day that he wasn't perpared for. Let's just say that there have been several all night study sessions at Denny's or papers that were finished and edited in time for me to splash water on my face and get to my own class. Some problems were bigger than others, but we got thru them. And, he didn't quit.

Sure, there were disappointments. Yes, there were semesters off (for both of us). There were countless challenges and at times I'll admit that even I wondered if a college degree was really necessary or worth it. But it was his journey.

In the past 17 years, my brother has been Beckwith's more formidable 'super counselor' turned Camp Director. He's been a Youth Minister. He's traveled thru the Southwest with boys with behavioral and emotional challenges and, thru camping adventures, rock climbing, and moutain biking Moab, he helped lead them to a second chance. He's loved and taught hundreds of children and teenagers to believe in themselves. Using his God-given talents at the keyboard, he's taught children and adults to play the piano. He's started and maintained a business, even in a recession. He found the courage to approach the right girl, and ask her to a party, and then asked her to marry him. He's purchased a house. And he and Sellers have created Grayton and Henry - by far their greatest achievements yet.

Let me tell you what I see when I look at my brother. I see a man who was put on this planet to be a daddy and a husband. I see a man with more grace in his little finger than I have in my entire body. I see a man with the ability to forgive and give second and third and fourth chances, even it means his heart is broken each time. I see a man of unceasing faith. I see a man with a childlike passion for the stuff in life that is especially important: family, friends, love. I see a man that, even in our adulthood, I can laugh with at things we thought were funny when we were little, or who gets excited about a new Star Wars or Harry Potter movie. I see a man who still believes in magic - no matter what life throws at him. I see a man who works hard, and plays harder. I see a man that I am incredibly proud of, that I am inspirited by, and one that I am blessed to call my brother and best friend.

And tonight? After 17 years...

I see a college graduate.

Martin Luther King said, "The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge..."

Tonight, Curt Kennington stands victorious at the end of this part of his journey.

There's more to come, of course. But he'll do it. Because he doesn't quit.

I've been thinking of one of my favorite movies since Curt received his final grade in his final class. The movie is "With Honors", a story about life taking an unexpected path and becoming richer for it. As they graduate, a portion of the song below plays.

Curt, my brother and friend, I am so proud of you. You will truly graduate life with honor and without regret. I love you.

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true
May you always do for others
And let others do for you
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung
May you stay forever young

May you grow up to be righteous
May you grow up to be true
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you
May you always be courageous
Stand upright and be strong
May you stay forever young

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
May you stay forever young
Forever young, forever young
May you stay forever young
                       - Bob Dylan

Cursillo #149 talk on study

Last weekend I had the pleasure of serving on the the staff for Cursillo #149. Specifically I was on the music team and presented a talk on study. Below is that talk. I hope it was a blessing to those who heard it, and for those who read it. It was a blessing to write and deliver it. So, thanks for reading.

Elizabeth Kennington

Cursillo Talk: Study
Cursillo #149
Nov 1-4, 2012
Beckwith Camp & Retreat Center

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ…

As a teenager, I was very active in my parish’s EYC, or youth group. When I graduated from college I began working with the youth at Trinity, Mobile, and for the next 15 years I served as a youth minister in three parishes. One of the favorite activities of youth groups everywhere are scavenger hunts. They come in many variations: photo hunts, video hunts, ones where you have to do an action or trade for something and the list goes on. Now I’m sure all of you have been on a scavenger hunt. You are divided into groups and given your first clue or instruction. Once you figure out the clue you set off to the next spot, where you’ll find the next clue or instruction. Each one of these experiences has the potential to yield great reward – usually the satisfaction of clarification and continuing to the next step. So it is with study.  

Study is the application and use of our minds to learn. In our faith, study and piety prepare us for action guided by our Christian ideal.

I've been studying my entire life. We all have. From the moment we are born we study in order to understand. As babies, we study with eyes and ears and touch. We learn to smile and clap and eat our Cheerios by watching. We discover the feelings of love thru hugs and kisses and soft voices and laughter. We learn the feeling of safety wrapped in a warm blanket nestled in the arms of someone who loves us. In the past 4 years I have enjoyed watching my nephews, Grayton and Henry, learn what rain feels like, or how a puppy dog smells, or how a thunderstorm sounds. I have loved watching them discover music. I relish the joy in their faces when they find they can sit up, pull up, stand, walk, run, and even fall down, with the knowledge that they can get back up and run again. As we grow through the turbulent teens and rocky 20’s and into adulthood, we continue to learn what love feels like, and sometimes what real pain is and how to deal with it, and emerge stronger.

We study in order to know ourselves and the world around us. Christian study is about coming to know God. We come to know Him, not as a problem solver or prayer answerer, but as a Being that is alive and constantly moving in our lives. Christianity is a relationship that requires spiritual growth to mature and thrive even as we grow and mature in life. Through study, we make an intentional effort to come to a deeper understanding of that faith. In the words of St. Augustine, we ask "Lord Jesus, let me know myself so that I may know you."

In Matthew's Gospel, we receive the Great Commission. Jesus tell us to "...go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you." We, as Christians, are to be agents of transformation in the world. Study allows God to speak to us and help us obtain a greater understanding of who we are and what Jesus is calling us to do. Study, then, is the bridge between piety and action. We can express love, but without knowledge to accompany that love, we can neither be transformed, nor can we transform the world.

Presiding Bishop Katherine Jefferts Schori has the unique position of being both our Chief Pastor, and an accomplished Oceanographer. During her May, 2009 visit to our Diocese, while here at Beckwith, she was asked by one of our young people about the reconciliation of science and religion. She said that science explains how things happen. She went on to say that our faith, and it’s grounding in Scripture, tell us what it all means.

The Bible is our foundation. It is the foundational story of our Judeo-Christian history, and our salvation through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. Studying Scripture can be challenging, but the church can assist you in knowing which translations are trustworthy and accurate in relation to the ancient text. Speak to your clergy for help with this. My personal recommendation is the Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha, either the Revised Standard Version or the New Revised Standard Version. The language is easily accessible and the footnotes are very fine and extremely helpful. A trusted Biblical translation, as well as the use of commentaries and guides, or perhaps a study group, can assist you in your study and stretch you spiritually and intellectually. There is no better source for Christian study than the Word itself.

The language of our liturgy is a primary source of study. An old saying states ‘what we pray, we believe.” Each Sunday and Holy Day we recite the ancient words of the creeds as a proclamation of our faith. Our Episcopal services of Ordination, and Pastoral services of Marriage and the Burial of the Dead, the Daily office and all the extraordinarily beautiful services of the Book of Common Prayer inform us and remind us of our story of salvation and our connection to the scriptures, tradition, and reason of the Anglican Communion.  

The 18^th century English poet, Alexander Pope, is often quoted from his work An Essay on Criticism, saying “a little learning is a dangerous thing.” I’ve often heard people say “I know just enough to be dangerous. This can be particularly true in the study – or sometimes lack there of – of sacred texts.  Our airwaves are full of religious leaders, from the Christian faith as well as others, manipulating parts of the sacred texts in order to incite fear and promote condemnation of others. In recent years this brand of hurtful extremism has targeted the Koran, the sacred text of Islam. Many Christian fundamentalist use the text to condemn the Islamic faith, while extremist Muslims use their holy book to justify Jihad and terrorist action. It is vitally important to study well and fully. History, culture, context, accuracy are all part of the work being done in study. Some Christian fundamentalist use the words of our own sacred text, the Bible, to vilify and condemn both fellow Christians, and others. A little learning is a dangerous thing.   

Daily prayer is an important work in study. Devotions, such as Forward Day-by-Day, and the Daily Office in the Book of Common Prayer are easily accessible and decidedly Anglican resources that make spending a little quiet time with God both enriching and convenient.

Education for Ministry is a 4 year program of the School of Theology of the University of the South at Sewanee. Over the course of 4 years, students cover the Old Testament, New Testament, Church History, and Theological Choices. Let me also tell you what EfM is not: it is not a precursor to seminary (although some EfM graduates have gone on to the ordained priesthood). EfM is a survey course designed to prepare us for the ministry to which we have been called. Through weekly chapter readings, prayer, and guided reflections, students learn to think theologically, examining our own beliefs in relationship to our culture and our Christian tradition.  I am currently in my 3^rd year, and I can tell you without hesitation that EfM night is the best night of my week. If you’re really up for a challenge, and aren’t afraid of having your theological perspective shaken up a bit, I highly recommend enrolling in an EfM program.  

Of course, there are many other gifted and challenging spiritual writers who can be profound companions on the journey. Three of my favorites are C.S. Lewis, Mike Yaconelli, and Donald Miller.  Lewis, of course, is one of the 20^th century’s most influential writers. Whether addressing the central issues of Christianity in Mere Christianity, reading the humorous exchange concerning some of life’s moral questions between two of the Devil’s chief agents in the Screwtape Letters, or emerging from the wardrobe to meet the mighty Aslan, Lewis takes his readers on a magical and sometimes mystical journey toward a better understanding of a life of faith.

The late Mike Yaconelli was the godfather of modern youth ministry.  His books Dangerous Wonders  and Messy Spirituality  remind  me of the importance of keeping a childlike faith, and that no matter how badly I screw up or fall down, there is always a seat for me at the table. Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz, Through Painted Desserts  and  Searching for God Knows What are like talking with an old friend. He and I are the same age, and like many of my fellow “Gen-Xers” we are navigating our spiritual journeys through a cynical world, and seeking to further our connection with our brother, Jesus. These three men, and many other gifted writers challenge my mind, my beliefs, and inevitably lead me back to the Scripture, which is my foundation.

Study does not have to be from the written page. Study can, and should, include seminars, video and audio resources, poetry, art, conversation, and the observation of the people and nature around us.

We are so blessed to be at Beckwith on this beautiful October weekend. Fall is my favorite time to be here. The cool breezes, the crunch of the autumn leaves, the beauty of the stars at night so far away from the city. A couple of weeks ago I had the opportunity to be with my family and a few friends on a sail on the Schooner Joshua in Mobile Bay. We were celebrating my dad’s 70^th birthday. As we were coming in from our 2 + hours on the water, God showed off a bit with one of the most spectacular sunsets I’ve seen in recent memory. We move so quickly these days. I encourage you to slow down and reflect on the majesty that is in the beauty of creation: the first ear of Silver Queen, or a summer tomato sandwich. The power of a hurricane. The devastation of torandos and droughts. Even the excitement of a Olympic Gold medal, or SEC football game. Or maybe the moment of reflection after the cancer diagnosis. What do these things tell of God? Of life? They are all resources for study.

For me, music, whether hymns of the church, classic composers, or modern contemporary,  is a primary source of reflection and prayer and I have been blessed to have wonderful musicians in my life, including my father and brother. They are my musical companions along the way.  

As in life, there will always be obstacles to study. Most of these are self- inflicted. You may be thinking that you don’t have the self-discipline, or that you don’t understand Scripture. You might even be afraid of what you might find out about yourself or your call.  The solution?

First, start.

Begin the process of your Christian study wherever you are. Talk to your priest or spiritual director about Biblical commentaries or guides to help you begin. Then find the complementary resources in literature, devotions, music, etc. that are best for you. 

Secondly, pray for God’s wisdom and guidance as you spend time in the reflection of His word.

Next, keep moving forward. If you miss a day, or you discover something you don’t understand, don’t beat yourself up and say “I knew I’d fail”.

Continue to set individual goals, and continue to work toward them with God’s help.  

Finally, remember that you are not in charge. Come to the discipline of study with a humble heart, and trust in Him. His timing is always perfect.

Never stop learning. In the words of Proverbs 6:6:  “Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider her ways, and be wise.”

Livestrong? Or just a big lie...

Dear Lance,

I wish I could say, without question, that I believe you. I want to. So badly. But where there is smoke...

I do think you have been the victim of a witch hunt. The USADA is a seriously flawed organization and I think that Travis Tygart was definitely out to get you. Even a federal judge question the motives behind this investigation. And the list of witnesses are far from credible, since all of them have either admitted to doping or been caught by testing postive for performance enhancing drugs. Plus they have been promised immunity and allowed to continue to race so really they have nothing to lose by telling the USADA what they want to hear. Not to mention we're talking about races that were won over a decade ago. And I still have not seen proof of a failed drug test. But still. So many pointing fingers...

I'd never watched a cycling race in my life until you'd already won the Tour de France once. You sparked my attention, so I kept watching. Every pedal turn of the next 6 years. I learned the sport. I learned your story. I read your books. I shared them with friends that were fighting cancer as means of inspiration. I have yellow bands, yellow blankets, water bottles - all calling us to "Livestrong". I saw you has a fighter. A dad with an incredible story to pass on to his children. Someone to emulate. To admire. To point to as an example.

No one can deny that you can climb a mountain on your bike. Drugs or no drugs, you did that. I saw it. No one can deny that you helped and continue to help people fighing cancer, and work to find a cure. That legacy continues. I just can't help but wonder what happened to the guy who fought a cancer that gave him a 2% chance of survial and won? If you, as you say, have never doped - then why have you stopped fighting?  

If you did this thing they said you did - if you doped your way to 7 Tour wins - I wish you'd just say so. Don't you understand that to continue to lie about it just makes you look worse? Makes the fall even harder? Makes it all even more disappointing for those of us who have believed in you all this time? Just tell the truth, do the penance, and move on. Instead, you've quit fighting the legal system. Nike turned their backs. And today, you stepped away from the people you wanted to inspire the most - your cancer family. What are you hiding from? Never mind. I'm pretty sure at this point I don't want to know.

The definition of a hero is a person, typically a man, who is admired for courage or noble qualities. That's hard to come by these days. Until today, you were one of my heros. I don't think I can say that anymore. Not unless you prove these people wrong.

I don't know that stripping you of your titles and passing off the Yellow Jersey will matter. I mean, the riders behind you have all been caught or admitted doping themselves, so what's the point? Regardless of what happens next, the jersey, along with my waterbottles, blanket, and arm bands have been seriously tarnished.

I'm just so disappointed.
And very, very sad.