A Sabbatical Drive

I'm currently sitting in Moby's Coffee & Tea in North Hollywood, CA. It's a nice little place that my cousin Wesley recommended. I had dinner and several hours of great conversation with Wes last night, catching up on life and family. It was so great to see him. Dude even let me have his bed. Now if I can only find my other cousin, his brother Nelson, who supposedly lives on the south shore of Boston somewhere. Nelson...you out there?  

So, in short, my drive from Portland to LA was spectacular. It was everything I might have imagined it would be.

I was mostly on US Route 101 from Lincoln City, OR, all the way until Route 152, which takes one from 101 to Interstate 5. Rte. 152 was a pleasant surprise and one of the most beautiful segments of the whole shebang. I also got off 101 to go through the "Avenue of the Giants", part of the redwood phenomenon in Northern California. I have driven well over 1000 miles in two days and not once was I tired or even tired of driving. It has been grace-filled, nourishing, and inspiring. 

Somewhere in Oregon between Tigard and Lincoln City, outside a Dairy Queen:

(By the way, I did run the 5K race in Oregon. Didn't do as well as I might have liked, but the whole night was a pleasant surprise as it was actually put on by a church and we worshiped together. The speaker of the Word that night relied heavily on a Johnny Cash song and is currently ministering in Israel. God spoke to me that night. Very thankful.)

This was my first view of the Pacific in some twelve years, Lincoln City, OR. It was about :

This is the car I rented for this whole trip. I got a free upgrade and have thoroughly enjoyed this Hyundai Sonata. The gas mileage has been incredible as I've only filled it up twice and at the moment still have half a tank. 

My drive on the "Avenue of the Giants" happened around 8:00 at night which was great because no one else was on it. There was plenty of light for me to enjoy what I was seeing. I'd seen the redwoods when I was real young (4.5), but with my growing love for trees over the last seven years, this was special for me.  

I have been kept company by a whole bunch of music, but most memorable has been Johnny Cash, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis (thanks to my friend who suggested I give it a try), Ennio Morricone, Vivaldi, and Arcade Fire. I honestly cannot remember how long it's been since I've been able to listen to whole albums at a time. I've also spent a lot of time driving in silence. And a lot with the windows down. 

I'm unable to recount everything I saw, but can't wait to share it with my church community in several weeks. I totally miss my family, but have talked regularly to them. 

I've thought lots of thoughts and prayed lots of prayers over these some 1000 miles so far. One thing for now: The world is a really, really, really big place. Chill out and enjoy it.

The first two pics here are out of order, they are in Oregon:

Likely the most photographed bridge in the world. I didn't even stop.

Seriously: Route 152 was a beautiful surprise. Amazing:

This was closer to LA on I-5:

One last thing for now: I began yesterday in Ukiah, CA. It was a beautiful 58 degrees when I woke up. At one point on I-5 about 2 hours north of LA, my car's thermometer said 101 degrees. I remember from an early age being told how California is such a big state that such things can happen. But it was pretty interesting to go between the two extremes.

I've long said that I am not big on California. San Diego is beautiful and all and a great place to visit, but all-in-all, when I think California, I think "lots of crowded people/places" kind of like Cape Cod on steroids. I've always said, "As for me, I prefer Northern Vermont." Friends in seminary from NorCal told me that I needed to check out Northern California as it would change my mind. 

They were right.

Northern California is amazing. Kinda like Vermont on steroids.

Beautiful country, this is.

Food Trucks & Father Cedric

That there is a waffle, sausage, & maple breakfast sandwich. It was heavenly. Here in Portland a whole lot of people sell food out of food trucks. This little place ("Flavour") is appropriately at the corner of N. Lombard and N. Boston...which is kind of funny because there really isn't much of a "North Boston" in actuality. At least, not of the Boston in Massachusetts.

I've seen a few funny uses of Boston in my travels thus far. There is a chain called "Boston Pizza". We saw franchises twice, once in Canada and another somewhere else that I'm forgetting. I had no clue Boston was especially known for its pizza. Could have fooled me. 

I stayed the last two nights in the home of Nick, Mandy, Dom, Eli, & Mia Mucci, where the weather is cool, the sun is bright, and the food is scrumptiously healthy.

Nick and I went to college together. He gave me a concussion once. For real. And we went through a lot of other awesome things together. The Muccis are an incredible family doing the work of the Lord, particularly through hospitality, mentoring/discipling, and doing whatever they can to live Jesus in their neighborhood and community. Yesterday, we all went to downtown Portland and had lunch at one of the major food truck markets there. My grilled cheese sandwich yesterday was as scrumptious as my waffle sandwich today. I decided to forego the "Original Cheesus", settling for the "Moondog" or some such thing, leaving the eating of Christ for shared moments of communion.

Here is one shot of the food truck scene in downtown Portland:

And here is the place I got my grilled cheese from. Thankfully, it was as good as my childhood...which was good and all:

At the moment I'm sitting in The Living Room, which is the community space of Adsideo Community. It's a great space open to the Sellwood neighborhood of Portland. They worship here together on Sundays as well. I hope to join them in the morning. Already I've been challenged by the community here. I have a lot to think about.

----

On the drive here from North Portland, I was surfing the radio channels. Boston doesn't have much Christian radio, certainly not on the FM waves. When I lived in Kansas City, I'd often tune to the Christian stations, mostly to argue with what I was hearing. I was after all, in seminary, and *needed* to show someone how impressive I was in what I was learning, even if it was my own head.

In more recent times when I've heard "Christian" preaching on the radio I've tried to tone down my know-it-all seminarian ways and listen a bit more. What I've learned is that God works in a whole variety of ways. Much of what I hear on the radio seems rather junkish...but God works through such things. I guess we call that grace.

The two times I've tuned in during the last 48 hours I've been challenged, even though the speakers were hardly speaking from a Wesleyan-Arminian perspective and used tactics that I cringe at. 

This morning, I happened to turn a message on as the preceding gospel reading was just finishing. Some guy I'd never heard of before began speaking about "play." It turns out that Father Cedric is originally from Massachusetts. Go figure. I have never heard of him before and I certainly didn't jive with all that he said, but God surely spoke through his recorded message to me this morning.

He covered the topics of play and sabbath. He said a lot, but two things particularly spoke to me:

First - "Invite God into your play"

One of the things I think we struggle with in understanding sabbath is just exactly what it entails. Is it rest? Is it active recreation? Is is unproductivity? Is it productivity through unproductivity? More practically, does taking a nap really count? Do I have to be sitting on a beach in Maui or Vermont? Must I be on a mountain as Jesus always seemed to be? Is worship involved? How did "the sabbath" become Sunday? Should we go through the work of getting all dressed up, prim & proper, if it feels like work and not rest? And so on...just what exactly does sabbath entail?

I've often felt guilty at some of the things I've considered to be sabbath-practice, mostly because the world implies a certain kind of necessity of production that can be easily measured, usually in some kind of denotable increase. Well the results  - that is, the production - of the Kingdom aren't exactly always so easily measured. We need to keep this in mind when assessing the worthiness of ANY Kingdom work, including that of sabbath-keeping.

Father Cedric's instruction to "invite God into your play" is one way to help keep sabbath-keeping intentional. Can you invite God to speak to you in what you are doing? And don't dismiss some things quickly. Consider it. Fr. Cedric even used the example of doing a crossword puzzle - ask God to help you discover that elusive answer. While seemingly a bit of a stretch, if you're going to do crossword puzzles at all, why wouldn't you invite God into the process?

This opens up all sorts of possibilities: Into what should we, can we, invite God?

Everything.

And if the answer to any given situation is "No, I cannot invite God into this," then why do it?

I can invite God into the play-time with my children (indeed, God's already there!).

I can invite God into my nap time: "Dear Lord, may this time be a sabbath rest."

I can invite God into the game of basketball I am playing: "God, help me to display myself with Christ-like decorum...and forgiveness!"

I can invite God into anything I'm doing. Or I shouldn't do it at all.

Second - "Mix the amount of your play well."

Fr. Cedric's advice here is to remember that the sabbath is every seventh day (not seven days a week). That sleep is required for seven-eight hours a day (not twenty-four). He quoted a proverb (25:16):

"If you have found honey, eat only enough for you,

   or else, having too much, you will vomit it."

I need to hear this. As "busy" as I am, I can easily make excuses to procrastinate via simply labeling something "sabbath-keeping". The key is to invite God in, and if the Spirit is leading me to do else-wise...then listen.

If I've felt guilty about doing something that isn't overtly "productive", then the flip side is passing off unproductive activities as "sabbath-keeping." Again, a question of assessment helps:

Is God able to work in me through this activity?

----

In other news, on the opposite side of the continent, Meghan ran her first 5K this morning. She killed it. I run one tomorrow evening out here in Portland before beginning to head south.

And so it begins...

(Wrote this yesterday...)

This is what I look like when I have to wake up at 2:45 AM to catch a flight. I'm sure this is information that you have been hoping for all along coming out of a sabbatical. And it's *surely* the first thing I thought I'd post having been several days since I have done so. 

I'm writing this on a plane right now from Denver to Portland. I am beginning the portion of my sabbatical journey wherein I have left my family behind (safely in Salisbury, MD with Meghan's parents) and I will be traveling alone from Portland to San Diego by car. I've been greatly looking forward to these next twelve days for some time. 

I will be visiting with old friends and mentors all along the way. I'll visit some sites, I suppose, but the main thing is driving sights of the coast and visiting with these people. I have long-loved to drive. In high school I was rather a loner, mostly by choice, but certainly also because social circles didn't seem to have the right place for me, or so I thought. I tended to float from group to group rather than allow people to become good friends. I still often act in this way. It is one thing the Lord is working on with me. Being an introvert and a pastor is not a rare thing (interesting when you think about it, really), but it's not always a favorable thing. Some think it weird that I greatly enjoy preaching to crowds of people at the same time, but struggle sometimes when sitting one-on-one across a table from someone. Like I said, the Lord's working...

So I mostly kept to myself in high school and the beginning of college. One result is that I grew to love the open road. I often drove far distances to see my favorite band or to go to our family cabin & camp in Vermont. With the windows down, music playing, and coffee in my hand, life was great.

When Meghan and I got married, we easily shared this love. We chose to drive quite a bit on our honeymoon, including over four hours the very day we got married. And we have loved to drive together to many places. Vermont, of course, is our all-time favorite. Later in college, we liked to go for shorter drives around the south shore of Boston. We can remember driving to church on Sundays through a little town not far from Quincy. Meghan remarked how "cute" the little coastal downtown was. Little did we know that Hingham would become our home.

As kids have come along, driving for fun has become rare. Our kids have certainly seen their share of the road and we enjoy driving together as a family, but for me, it's not quite like it used to be on the open road. So I'm looking forward to this very much.

I'm not driving every day. The first couple of days I will be here in Portland visiting with friends, reading, and praying. I continue to covet your prayer.

Burlington & A Boat

Yesterday we began our day with the decision to take one of the girls to a dermatologist in Burlington to look at a mark on her skin that had been concerning us for several days. Rather than worry about it, we wanted some conclusion, even though we knew it was likely nothing. It was indeed nothing and now we don't have to worry all summer. We are blessed that they took us in with less than an hour's notice (has never happened for us at our own dermatologist in MA!), that we have a way to pay for such things, and that everything is okay.

We were in Burlington already and decided to walk around just a bit and have lunch there. I was again reminded how much I like that city. It's full of culture, sits on my favorite body of water in the world, and one can still be in the boonies of rural Vermont in less than a half hour. Despite summering just a half hour away for most of my life, I've only really experienced Burlington at all in the last couple of years. Awesome city.

While we were driving through part of the UVM campus on our way to downtown, I remarked to Meghan that someone who used to worship with North Street and worked for our shelter was now studying at UVM. Not fifteen minutes later, as we were walking around looking for a place to eat, Luke Taylor Cochran himself walked right in front of me. It was a great surprise and it was good to see him, if even only for five minutes. I count it another blessing from God that "in the midst of nowhere" I was reminded of our great church and why it is that we are away. Luke said he missed us greatly. We miss him too.

I asked Luke where we should eat and he recommended a place about twenty feet from where we were standing. He was right: Ri Ra's Irish Pub was excellent. 

We met my Uncle Floyd Nease in the late afternoon to spend some time on his boat. He harbors at the Ladd's Landing Marina on Grand Isle. Part of the beauty and awe of Lake Champlain are the islands.

We'd been on Floyd's boat before, but yesterday was a blast. The kids got to "deep lake" fish, jump in to swim off the boat, we ate some great food, and sat in the middle of the lake watching early fireworks (it was July 3rd). With the sky being overcast, it made for a beautiful gray evening - a wonderful backdrop for colorful fireworks. Nature was not to be outdone as some heat-lightening displayed its power and color as well.

Though we can't be at the family camp like we used to be, I'm so grateful that my kids could spend these hours with Uncle Floyd. He played an important part of my childhood up here in Vermont. We don't see eye-to-eye on many things, but we share a whole lot of other important things in common. I've learned a lot from him about life: family, compassion, and working to ends for what one thinks is important. One of the things that I have learned from Floyd & my family as a whole is the ability to disagree on not-so-trivial things, but to be able to disagree in such a way that we are still totally loving with one another. Despite the absence of elements that many would require, I daresay it's a picture of how those who follow should be together. 

...not to mention that Uncle Floyd is a whole lot of fun. As one of the kids said after: "Uncle Floyd is really nice and silly." 

Indeed.

And incredibly loving and compassionate.

Being silly with Uncle Floyd.

Brayden caught a nice smallmouth (1.14 lbs). He did a great job getting in in the boat.

I had to add this picture. Out of nowhere the other day, three-year-old Brysen started doing this crazy funny dance that - as far as we can tell - he made up on his own. It's hilarious and this picture doesn't do it justice. He has become quite the jokester in the last several weeks.

An Unexpected Find

We are enjoying the Vermont leg of our sabbatical so far. Being so close to Canada gives us the feel of being "away", especially after the high hubbub of being at General Assembly in downtown Indianapolis last week. But I confess that there are aspects here of lament for us (no regrets, as lament is an important part of life). But amidst the lamenting of things gone past, I had an awesome surprise find yesterday that even re-connected me to the events of General Assembly last week. I've probably driven by this church a hundred times, but something made me pull in to the driveway yesterday.

And I'm glad I did.

But I'm ahead of myself. Let me set some things up:

Both Meghan and I have significant family roots in Vermont, though hers are deeper and more widespread than my own. For me: I grew up vacationing almost every summer on the shores of Lake Champlain in a little inlet just south of Lapan's Bay and on the opposite peninsular shore of St. Alban's Bay. My maternal grandparents started vacationing up here in 1955 when my mother was just five years old. In the early sixties (1964?) they bought the land that the Nease siblings still own together and where I grew up visiting. If I added it up, I could imagine that I've spent maybe as much as a year of nights and days of my life at our "camp." The key to this place has been family. And for decades, the anchor was Grandma & Grandpa Nease. They have both been gone for several years now, and with their passing, the "get-go" for the camp has gone as well. It's often the case with family camps and cabins. In our situation, there are five siblings that own it together. There's been no fight or squabble...just the differently-pulled directions and interests of life. 

On Sunday, we visited my family's camp. We are not staying there because the two cabins are still in a devastated state from significant flooding two springs ago. Now I knew before yesterday that it sure seems likely that our family camp is headed for extinction. And I already knew that the willow tree that had been there for a couple centuries had finally fallen several weeks ago.

But seeing these things in person with my kids running ignorantly around the place made for a difficult time. I lament the loss of this tree. And I lament the apparent demise of a family camp & cabins. I still have slivers of hope that it might be resurrected, but I'm also a bit realistic.

It's one of those situations where I sure wish I had money. 

(The first picture below is the mess of what's left of the willow stump. It was massive. It would have taken at least three of me - maybe four - to wrap my arms around the thing. The second picture includes the front of our main cabin.)

Meghan's family's story is similar though also different. Her roots go back several generations in multiple directions, mostly in Waterville, Vermont. There are still many relatives in the area, but they are distant. There are two houses that remain dear to her that we visit, in addition to a cemetery, an old Nazarene church building (currently dormant), a covered bridge, and other small memorable places. With Meghan's family, there are four siblings (including her mother) that are connected to one particular house - Cardinal Crest - the retirement home of her Pop-Pop & Grammie. The house has no significant plans for the distant future. And each time we drive by now, it's more apparent that "it'll never be the same again."

And we know this...that things can never be the same again. But for two sentimental people for whom family is a deeply important thing, it still is reason for lament. Yes, new things arise and new memories are made. But old memories die hard. For us at least.

So, speaking of new ones:

We like to drive from St. Alban's to Waterbury (or vice versa). It includes Routes 7, 104a, 104, 15, 118, and 100. One way or the other, we also cut through Smuggler's Notch on Route 108. It's increasingly "touristy", but we still drive through because of the Notch. We did so yesterday, knowing that our kids love the rocks and streams to climb on and through. Just after turning off 100 to take 108 north through the Notch, there is a little Catholic Church. We've driven by it a hundred times. I've probably noticed it before because it's a beautiful wooden building, but for whatever reason, I was compelled to pull in yesterday. 

And I'm so glad I did.

It turns out that the church building is built on the site of the birthplace of Joseph Dutton. Dutton joined Father Damian on the island of Malokai in Hawaii to minister to the leper colony there and carried on Saint Damien's work for four decades after his death. When I read the plaque on the outside of the church, I excitely yelled back to Meghan in the car. It's a small world:

I first heard of and was inspired by the story of Damien just a few months ago in a sermon that David Busic preached during ENC's revival series. Despite the fact that he is one of my favorite preachers, I only went to hear him once that week. (Total aside: I wish I could get to ENC Chapel more often.) I have appreciated Dr. Busic from afar for over a decade now, watch-following him in his various moves from ministry assignment to ministry assignment. I had signed up to take his preaching class while in seminary in Kansas City, but he got the call to Bethany First Church in Oklahoma City right after and so I got the dean instead. I watched Dave get elected to the highest ministerial office of the Church of the Nazarene last week: General Superintendent. The fact that the events of General Assembly were connected with our jaunts in the boonies of rural Vermont was a great encouragement to me yesterday. I thank God for the moment. I hope to read more about Father Damien and Brother Joseph Dutton. The little bit I've found on the web so far is really neat.

The church building is incredible. It was unlocked (as all church buildings "should" be) so I went in. The small sanctuary had small, but beautiful stained glass windows telling the stories of Jesus' ministry (as many RCC chapels do). I went back to the car and after Meghan got to go in, she suggested to bring Brayden in. He was able to point out many of the stories and told me what they were. I hope to go back sometime to get better pictures of the small stained glass windows. I did get pictures of the outside of the building where there are huge artistic murals that tell the story of Damien and Dutton in Hawaii. The story will be the source of illustrations for sermons to come. For now, you can see my album here:

https://picasaweb.google.com/101379326608663704193/BrotherJosephDutton

If you'd like to read more about it (including connections to the Stowe Von Trapps themselves), read this:

http://www.theheartofnewengland.com/travel-Kalawao.html