Are You "App-athetic?"

"I'm going down the shore later today."

"Isn't the water too cold?"

"I don't go to swim. I listen to the waves, breathe in the salty sea air, maybe wade a bit. I go to relax."

"They've got apps for that."

This was my conversation a few months ago with a man who was totally serious.

He couldn't imagine making the hour long drive to sit and soak in the sights and sounds we are blessed with, living near the coast. He thought his phone and an app were sufficient substitutes.

How sad!

There is no man-made app that can capture the grainy feel of wet sand squishing between your toes.

Or convey the power of waves that crash with a roaring boom yet dissipate into tiny, delicate bubbles that look like lace on the tips of watery fingers reaching toward the shoreline.




Can an app fill your senses with the immensity and beauty of the horizon, stretched out under the expanse of sky, decorated with white, puffy clouds, or adorned with the pinks, reds, and purples of sunrises and sunsets?

And what of the treasures to be found dotting the beaches?

An app doesn't let you look for the perfect color and shape shell to add to your collection, or snap a picture of something that catches your eye but needs to stay right where it is on the beach.

You might be able to hear canned whistles and clicks of dolphins, but wouldn't you rather hear them as they break the surface of the water in a fast swimming pack, delighting all who catch a glimpse?

And instead of playing app games, entertaining yourself watching the silly little sandpipers run down toward the water, then scurry up the beach as they hunt for sand crabs helps you realize that endless running back and forth doesn't have to be you today. You can rest.

I don't want to settle for something man-made when I can experience the fullness of something God-made.

Man-made things are a mere shadow of, a poor replacement for, something divine.

An app will let me hear, and perhaps see, a tiny portion of what there is to be seen and heard. But when I go directly to the source, I can immerse myself and my senses in the here and now of His creation.

Jesus said "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." (John 10:10)

He wants us to live for Him, all senses engaged. Our heart prepared to receive the blessings that abound when we are completely open to all He has for us.

My friend, what are you settling for today? What unfulfilling thing is serving as a poor substitute for the richness God has for you? 

Don't be "app-athetic." 

The Summer of the Blue Bike

I was just talking to my friend and fellow blogger, Pam from In the Shadow of His Wings, about my blog posts.  I was beginning to feel they don't fit what I've perceived to be "the norm" based on others I've read. Other blogs seem far shorter than mine, more succinct.  Anyone who's read one of my posts knows I tend to write what might be charitably labeled...essays.  That comment led Pam to suggest I add to this blog something I once shared with her.  It was actually more of a short story pieced together from a couple of journal entries back in August of 2007.  I called it "The Summer of the Blue Bike", and in many ways, it's the precursor to Lakeside Lessons.  I doubt this fits that short, succinct norm I mentioned, but today I'm responding to a request :)

"The Summer of the Blue Bike"

"It had been a rough year and an even tougher summer. As the days dragged on long and hot, I ached to sit on the sand of an empty beach and watch the sun slowly rise out of the ocean, breaking into the sky in all its golden glory. If I closed my eyes, I could almost smell the salty air and feel the warmth of the sun on my face. But when I opened my eyes, what I had imagined as the relaxing lapping of waves on the shoreline, was instead the incessant tapping of raindrops on my office window. Another dreary day spent chained to my desk.

It seemed this summer, more than any other, everyone I knew was vacationing on some sandy beach or cruising to an island - and they all wanted to tell me about it in raptured detail. 

There were many things that kept me from the ocean. Money was first and foremost. Even a day's jaunt to the beach cost a tank of gas and fixings for lunch. An elongated stay with the cost of rent was out of the question. Then there was the matter of time. Going with the rest of the weekend warriors meant the stress of battling them on the road and the dunes. And taking off a day from work was akin to a miracle since apparently, I alone in the universe knew how to do what I do...job security is a two-edged sword.

Instead, I entertained myself on the weekends by going to yard sales and searching for bargains and that's how I found my bike. A man's blue Huffy Expedition for the bargain price of $15. It needed a tire changed and a bit of 3 in 1 oil and it was as good as new.

At first, I bought it for the exercise...but as the summer waned, I discovered that my blue bike was no mere piece of exercise equipment. It was a 2-wheeled ride to freedom. I packed it up in my Nissan Pathfinder and headed off to the County Park where there were plenty of miles of trails.

As the pavement rolled out ahead of me like a black ribbon in a sea of green grass, I took in my surroundings. A larger number of blue jays than I'd ever seen in one place flitted back and forth in a grove of trees chasing each other in a playful game of tag. 

As dusk began to fall, rabbits ventured out for a bit of clover and the deer began to graze - close to the wood line at first, they slowly gained courage and ventured out into the center of the field. First I spotted a mother with her 2 fawns, coats still sprinkled with the white spots of youth...then another doe and another, some with fawns, some without until I counted a dozen grazing brown statues. The elusive buck was not in sight however.

I cruised around the lake, through the woods and across the fields where shouts and clapping cheered on soccer and baseball players battling it out in fierce summertime competition.

Finally, my legs had had enough - my thighs screamed for mercy. Somehow all the miles of walking I had done for months on end had not prepared them for the ups and downs of the bike trail.

I put my bike back into the Pathfinder, locked the door, and grabbed a bottle of water to cool off. As I downed the thirst-quenching liquid, I was slowly able to regain the feeling in my legs. Gradually, I put one foot in front of the other, struggling like a toddler trying to find his balance, eventually making my way down to the water's edge.  I chose a bench looking out over the relatively still waters of the lake.

The first thing I noticed was the blue heron strutting on the dock piled high with rowboats. A pontoon boat and paddle boats lined the far side of the dock - a reminder of all the activities the water provided in the heat of the day. Without warning, a flurry of wings broke the silence and a pair of seagulls lifted skyward from the water. I chuckled to myself thinking, "I may not have the ocean, but at least there are seagulls!"

This would become my routine for weeks as the summer flew by. Then, as if with the turn of a page, it was almost fall. The days seemed to grow short ever faster, but the tradeoff was glorious sunsets. Streaks of red, orange and purple painted the sky as the sun sank below the horizon in a burst of fiery light...and then it was gone.

It was on one such evening that I sat gazing at the water listening to the cacophony of honking geese as they arrived, wave upon wave to rest for the night. Hundreds covered the surface of the lake as a long boat cut the water, sending them flapping and splashing in all directions to get out of the way.

I pondered the past 8 months and all that had happened in that short span of time. Just a few days into the start of the new year, my husband and I had an argument. Not that arguing was anything new for us. In the 28 years of our marriage, we'd made it into an art form. Like the bob and weave of a boxer, we could land a blow and get out of the way, then come back together in a clinch until one worked loose and tried to score a knockout punch. Yet somehow this time was different. The fights had become more intense and more frequent in the past few months, but this one ended with him walking out the front door, never to return. 

Of course, I didn't realize it was the final blow that night. Many was the time he'd threatened to leave, each time telling me I'd discover how difficult life would be without him. Occasionally, he'd even manage to stay away for the night - and once for a long weekend. But what was really different this time was my reaction. I didn't cry. I didn't get a feeling in the pit of my stomach that my world was ending. I was okay.

It was the beginning of a new life, but like most births, it was a traumatic experience. Something wonderful would be produced as the end result, but it could only come to fruition through pain. And so that was why I spent the summer without seeing the ocean.  And that was what led me to the blue bike and ultimately a new found sense of freedom and a real joy. I was finally living life."

When I wrote this, I talked about something wonderful being produced as the end result of a traumatic experience.  I had no way of knowing what the next 5 years would bring.  Highs and lows, sadness and joy.  But ultimately, a closer walk with God, a wonderful support system from a new church, a ministry calling, and much, much more - including a friend who has lent me his beach house for a few days the last few years so I can see and feel and smell the ocean.   Lastly, the blue bike has been replaced by a purple one aptly named "Magnum Rebound", but I still find freedom and joy in riding.

A Call to Change

I had a blog post in mind today but I decided to write something different after reading what my dear friend Pam wrote in her blog, "In The Shadow of His Wings".  You'll find the link under 'Blogs I follow’ on the side of this page.  Now when you read her post today, "Change of Direction", you'll see that she refers to me and my blog.  We are not having a mutual admiration society meeting today, I promise…although I am truly blessed by the way she expresses what God lays on her heart.  I’m bringing it up because I too had a “change of direction” experience today.

I spent the early part of this week on vacation in Ocean City, New Jersey and during my short stay, I developed a routine. 
 Up by 6:15, I made a warm cup of tea, grabbed my Bible and my Jesus Calling devotional (Pam also refers to this book – I highly recommend it!) and went out on the back porch to read, journal and pray while I watched the sunrise over the ocean.  Then I’d head out for an hour long walk along the beach before plunking a chair in the sand and relaxing. 

I came home Thursday and, I’m sorry to say, while I started with a devotional and prayer time, there was no walk, just time spent catching up on church business, checking my work and personal email, Facebook and the like.  Friday was worse.  NO time with God, just hit the ground running after spending a fairly sleepless night fighting a stomach bug.   It bothered me all day as I kept thinking “there’s still time to read and pray…I’ll get to it right after…fill in the blank.”  Needless to say, that time never came.

So this morning I knew there were no excuses.  I fired up the tea kettle, grabbed my books and headed for my front porch.  I live in the city - Trenton, in fact.  Know anything about the capital of New Jersey?  Let’s just say clean air and beaches, it doesn’t have.  Still, it was a cool, clear morning and no one was up and about in the neighborhood yet.  I spent some time with the devotional, my Bible and journaling, but got a chill.  I moved inside, sat on the couch and started to pray.  Now, when I pray at home, I tend to do so with my eyes open.  I hope that doesn’t shock anyone.  I do that, because it becomes much more of a real conversation for me when I pray out loud, eyes open, just like I would converse with any of you.  Problem was, my email was up on the computer, and my eyes kept being drawn to it.  Finally, I said, “You know what God?  Why don’t we go for a walk?  It’s been too long since I’ve been to the lake – why don’t we walk and talk for an hour?”  And just like that, things changed direction.

As I eased my car into the marina parking lot, I saw a sign “3^rd Annual Walk to End Homelessness.”  I’m not sure if I’ve ever really gone into what I do at my church, but I oversee an outreach ministry called “CommunityConnections” and we do a lot of work with the homeless.  I laughed out loud and said, “Well, God, I thought this walk was my idea, but it would seem you wanted me here.”  I got out of the car, walked up to the registration table and introduced myself.  The woman behind the table was the founder of the organization holding the walk. “Homeless to Independence, Inc.”  She and I chatted for a little, exchanged business cards and I was off on my walk.

The path around the lake and through the park is about a mile and a half one way.  I prayed and praised and softly sang as I made my way through the park.  At one point, two doe came silently out of the woods, turned and gave me just the slightest of glances, then crossed into the stand of trees on the other side of the path.  In the seconds it took to reach where they’d been, they had disappeared into the vegetation.  When I hit the halfway point, I turned around.  About a quarter of the way back, I noticed a sign on one of the trees.  Someone had written in fancy script, Eph. 3:18 “And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is.”  That verse was especially meaningful to me because as I was de-stressing down by the ocean just a few days before, the lyrics to a Dave Pettigrew song haunted me as I looked at the vast expanse of water…"Every day I think so small.  Not seeing who you are or how you surround me.   There are so many times I fall.  But from my knees, I learn to see, how high you carry me.   What could separate us from your mighty hands?  Not death, not life, nor hell on earth could ever stand a chance. How deep, how wide, how strong, is the love of Jesus.”  I was surprised by the sign, because I was sure it hadn’t been there on my first pass, and yet I didn’t see anyone carrying signs to hang.  I smiled and thanked God for the personal message. 

A few hundred feet down, I spied another…Isaiah 40:9 & 10: I am God, the only God you've had or ever will have— incomparable, irreplaceable— From the very beginning telling you what the ending will be, All along letting you in on what is going to happen, Assuring you, 'I'm in this for the long haul, I'll do exactly what I set out to do.'  A few hundred feet more and there was another sign, then another, and yet another…all the way back, messages of God’s love and faithfulness. 

When I got back to the registration table, the folks from Homeless to Independence and I chatted a little further and discussed possible ways our ministry and their organization could work together.  I don’t know what God has in store, but I know there are no coincidences…only Godincidences.  And I know the change of direction this morning - both in thought (my purposeful decision to spend quality time with God) and in action (getting off the couch to head to the lake) - were changes that honored and pleased God.  Pam obeyed the invitation to change her plans and was rewarded with beautiful sights and a peaceful time with Jesus.  I obeyed the call to change my behavior and was rewarded with a sweet time of communion with God, words of encouragement, and a possible new ministry connection.  What reward will you miss if you don't listen for the call to change?