I'm Glad This is a Thing We Do

some thoughts on Discovering Renewal 2024

"For this breath,
For this heartbeat,
For these companions on this day,
For this web of life of which we’re apart,
We give thanks with all our heart.”

-Brian McLaren

This simple prayer is how we began our last full day at Discovering Renewal 2024 at the Montreat Conference Center in North Carolina, and as I reflect on it now, I find it hard to put into words the emotions I feel as I remember each face, each story, each conversation, each meal, each poem, and each interaction.

For my solo Sabbath time on Monday to the intimate hike on Tuesday with Greg, Mary, and Christina to the group activities during the remaining days at Montreat, I give thanks with all my heart.

It’s hard to pick a favorite or most memorable part, so I will share a few highlights from each day there.

Monday

On Monday morning, after getting a last minute oil change and a full tank of gas, I left out of Albertville, Alabama for my five hour drive to Montreat. On the way, I listened to an audiobook version of Fredrick Douglass’s autobiography entitled Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglass. It’s a short listen, especially on 1.5 speed, but it is powerful.

The things he witnessed and experienced as a slave remind me just how indefensible slavery is, and it struck me how similar slavery is to many of our more “modern” and “humane” ways of characterizing individuals, treating workers, and viewing our fellow humans. We use similar arguments, quote similar passages, and invoke the name of God in similar ways to justify all sorts of evils from withholding wages, perpetuating wars, and promoting continued religious division and even trauma. And just as some of the worst slaveholders in Douglass’s time were pastors or preachers, it seems to me that not much has changed.

I arrived at Montreat around 3:15PM on Monday for check-in. After greeting my friend Angel, who had to work that afternoon, I walked around Lake Susan alone and found a comfortable spot on a bench beside the lake.

As I contemplated the whereabouts of my friend Greg, whose flight was delayed, and Aram, who was fly-fishing with another friend, I wrote a poem. Unlike previous years where I spent my time memorizing poetry, I found myself writing more this year. With the encouragement from my friends, I wrote several poems I’ll be sharing here.

Waiting on a Friend
Upon the bench I sit alone:
Book in hand, water around.
I take in nature’s many tones
Oh angel band! On heaven’s sound!

But loneliness is not my eternal state
A goose comes close, inspects me now
While I don’t know why he is late,
The Lord knows, and keeps the vow.

For to be alone is not alone.
The pangs cry, yet to no avail.
For the Divine Presence is at home
As the dove flies, meek but never frail.

Monday Evening

That evening, I met several new friends at dinner: Miranda, Beth, and Diedra were among a few of them. I soon would be reunited with Greg, Angel, Christina, Mary, and Aram—I saved desert for them. We talked of weddings and births and christenings. We recalled the details of the previous year as we anticipated this years’ adventures. We shared the latest books we’ve been reading, talked about Easter Sunday, and considered who would and who wouldn’t be at Montreat this year.

It was a great reunion!

I shared with them the plans I had to go into the woods alone after dinner and campout in my hammock. It is something I had been planning for a few days. and it is actually something I have wanted to do since Laura and the kids gifted me the hammock on Father’s Day, and I finally had my chance!

Before I left, though, I met a new friend who would have a big impact on me this week: Grey—Aram’s father. He expressed his desire to campout with me, and we’ve already made plans to potentially do so next year.

After sharing my location with Aram (our track leader), I checked my inventory, collected my bags, put batteries in my headlamp, and took off for the trail. I decided to hike to the trailhead from Montreat and then ascend the rest of the way to Buck’s Gap hiking shelter. I climbed 779 feet in 1.95 miles in around 47 minutes. It was for sure more incline in less time than I am used to, so with that and hiking an unfamiliar trail with even more unfamiliar creatures in the woods around me, I got a good heartbeat going, which made it difficult to go straight to sleep.

Camspite + evening and morning view

However, I slept well, only waking up two or three times because of the wind, and I felt well-rested on Tuesday morning.

Tuesday

I woke up before sunrise on Tuesday morning, and spent the first few minutes enjoying the view below me in the valley. My plan was to wake up and be at Lookout Rock by sunrise—a goal I would meet.

But first, I had a different task before me. Not knowing that I had already gotten the bug to write poetry this week, Aram asked if I would leave a gift for the fellow hikers at the hiking shelter before I left—it being the final stopping point before our descent down Lookout Trail on Wednesday. In the light of my headlamp, I wrote the following called “To Be in the Woods.”

To Be in the Woods
To be in the woods
On a hike
On a trail
Away from cell phones
Bills
E-mail

To walk among trees
Birds
Galax
To quicken your pace
Or better
Relax

Away from sermons
Weddings
Funerals
To be among friends
Discovering
Renewal

I folded this poem and placed it in the rafters behind one of the main supports so that no one would find it and that it would be shielded from the rain. I packed my bags, and went up Buck’s Gap at around 5:57AM. After 470 feet of elevation, I arrived at Lookout Rock and enjoyed a spectacular view of Montreat Conference Center.

Lookout Rock

I paused for a few minutes to enjoy the scene then made my way down the mountain to share breakfast with my friends (1:04:08, 2.46 miles). My original plan was to spend all day at the conference center, so I took a quick shower before joining them for breakfast. Afterwards, I learned of their plans to hike Flat Laurel Creek to Sam’s Knob, and I quickly decided to join them, knowing I would be sacrificing the extra set of clothes I brought, but it was more than worth it.

Angel had to work, so it was just Mary, Christina, Greg, and myself. We drove for an hour on the Blue Ridge Parkway to find the trailhead. As we started up the parkway, I pointed out a nice view that was through trees. It was barely visible, but I wanted to share the moment with my friends. Had I known of the seven or eight overlooks we would pass on the way to our trail, I might not have said anything at all! It was breathtaking!

When we arrived at the trailhead, a DeKay’s brown snake greeted us, and I, for the first time ever, caught a snake (I actually did it twice). After letting it go, we hiked alongside a creek for a while before turning towards the meadow and hiking up the side of Sam’s Knob. We enjoyed a 360 degree view, felt the wind upon our face, and sat on a large boulder for lunch.

Sam's Knob

It was here that I shared with them the above poem to gauge their reaction. I called it corny, and they quickly called me out on it. And with this encouragement, there was no stopping my pencil for the next few days. While I still have doubts about the quality, I have no doubts that I felt some of these poems necessary to write.

I shared this Mary Oliver quote with my friend Mary: “The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave it neither power nor time.” I shared it with her in response to something she said, but as she read it aloud, I realized she was sharing it with me.

Our hike (2:02:05, 781 feet, 3.88 miles) was a symphony of water features, elevation, rocks, and conversation. I’m glad I used my extra clothes so early in the week.

Tuesday Evening

That evening, I was reunited with my friend and fellow first-year Discovering Renewal attendee Brian. He and his wife Patti were such good trail friends during the first year. It’s unfortunate that she wasn’t able to join us this year or last, but at least last year she was able to visit. Despite her absence, the time spent with Brian was amazing as usual.

After dinner that evening, Brian McLaren shared some thoughts on why we need renewal. He spoke of open-awareness and focused-awareness and how we need a balance of each. Our phones (and culture in general) demand our focused attention so much that open-awareness has become somewhat of a lost art.

Centering Prayer tricks our brains by using focused attention as a means to invoking open awareness. We need the vastness offered by wilderness to feel renewed.

After Brian’s talk, we all hung out on the main floor of the conference center. We talked, told jokes, and I showed a few magic tricks, which is always fun (for me at least!). I slept well that night after a full day of adventure, and the nervousness I had felt on day one (you can ask me about that privately if you’d like) had all but vanished.

They say it thundered that night, but I wouldn’t have known.

Wednesday

On Wednesday morning, I woke up and attended Greg’s guided Centering Prayer session at 6:30. We spent fifty minutes talking about contemplation and the interior life, meditating on a John Muir journal entry, and practicing Centering Prayer.

Afterwards, we enjoyed two meals: a large breakfast and a thirty minute session with Brian McLaren. He introduced some interesting ideas about “Law” in Psalm 1, Jesus as an indigenous prophet, and how Jesus is the embodiment of wisdom.

We then set out on our first adventure as a large group. Twenty (or so) of us joined Aram and his dad on a seven mile hike through several key areas in the Montreat wilderness. We hiked six to seven miles and over 1,500 feet of elevation in around 6 hours. During this hike, we enjoyed several stops to meditate, eat a snack, or simply enjoy a view.

On one of our first stops, we sat along a ridge and did a spiral exercise. This exercise is designed to heighten one’s awareness to their various senses. Start by drawing an “x” on a sheet of notebook paper. Then, starting at the intersection, draw a spiral, making four to five loops. Then label each section made by the “x” with four senses: see, hear, smell, and feel. Once your paper is ready, take two to three minutes to write down what you notice at each level.

As I filled out my chart, a poem came to my mind, and I copied it down:

Spirals
Temperatures rise as legs move,
So shouldn’t rest bring cold?
Yet, as I sit, the wisdom of the snake
Brings warmth from the sun, that
Space heater of old.

The cool breeze brings relief,
The birdsong love.
And the drone of the traffic reminds
Me of life life that waits beyond wood and stone.

Yet here on the ridge,
with friends old and new,
I contemplate my senses
and feel renewed.

As we left this place, I talked with Amy, Janice, and Joie (sp.?). We talked about our different congregations and quickly became friends. We were climbing one particular section of the trail when Joie asked if I would write a poem on how the shadows moved across the valley. Once we began our descent, I wrote “Shadows.”

Shadows
The dark, the light,
The wind, the Sun:
Signs our ascent has begun.

As the shadows move,
So do the clouds:
Winds’ transforming view.

The darkness cast by the peeks,
And we, humble and meek,
With every blink and every breeze,
See the valley anew.

Before long we arrived at our lunch spot: Rattlesnake Mountain. Before eating, we climbed to the top of the overlook and enjoyed yet another 360 degree view of the valleys below. It was upon this peak that another request was made by my friend Brian C. He jokingly asked for a poem on the blue sky, and I, noticing his blue shirt, composed one extemporaneously on the peak.

Me on Top of Rattlesnake; I Only Have Two Pictures from Our Group Hikes (Thanks Janice)

When I arrived back at the lunch spot, I wrote down what I remembered of the poem and made a few alterations:

Blue Shirt, Blue Sky
A blue shirt to commemorate a blue sky.
I stare for hours and don’t know why.
But I do know I will stare until I die
Towards the space where the eagle soars
And the goose flies.

As I stare longingly towards the heavens above,
I feel the presence of hope, peace, and love.
For there, one day, my heart will go
Beyond the home of the rain and the snow.

Wednesday Afternoon

After lunch, I demonstrated a fire starting technique I learned from the Outdoor Boys YouTube channel. Take a cotton ball or any kind of cotton pad for makeup, and break it up to loosen up the fabrics. Then, take some vaseline and cover it, mushing it into a loose ball. Place this into a ziplock bag and store it in your pack with some kind of match, flint and steel, or lighter. It will stay lit for several minutes and is a great way to start a campfire.

We then hiked Boggs Bunion and down towards and up Bushy Mountain—our steepest ascent. But the view at the Bushy Mountain overlook is worth it! It was at this point that we learned that Aram had to “leave the ninety-nine” to guide a few of our fellow hikers down a different trail, so Greg and myself had the privilege of guiding the hike towards the Buck’s Gap shelter, where I slept Monday night

Once we reached Buck’s Gap, Grey told us about Aram’s great-grandfather. As he described his granddad, I knew I needed to write a poem about this great man. He talked about how his grandparents would forego Winter coats so they could afford to house the missionaries who came home during the Winter. He talked about how his dad would pack 12 kids in his station wagon from all over town for church on Sunday. And he talked about how he would take his friend to the bar just so he wouldn’t drink and drive—his granddad would wait in the car.

Here’s the poem:

Grandfather
He had farmer’s hands but a gentle heart.
With misty eyes he would hug me as we’d part.
”I love you, boy,” he would kindly say.
Then I’d be off to school and on my way.

As school days passed, Winter would come.
Cold Canada Winters: snow, snow, and then some.
New coats for us? Not this year—
More mouths to feed as the missionaries come near.

Kids or drunks in need of a ride:
Going to church or a bar while he waits outside.
”If I didn’t know God, I wouldn’t fear.
Because your grandfather brought heaven near.”

After his story, we walked slowly back down lookout trail. We piled into the vans, and went back to the conference center for dinner. Following our meal, we roasted marshmallows and made s’mores around the campfire as various people shared poems, stories, jokes, and songs.

I shared two myself: “Beyond Belief” by David Wilcox and “Water the Flowers” by Jimmy Martin—with slightly modified lyrics.

Bedtime came quickly…after more magic tricks, of course.

Thursday

During our contemplative hour on Thursday, Greg began by sharing with us a passage from An Interrupted Life by Etty Hillesum. We then meditated on a passage from 1 Kings 19. God was not in the wind or the fire or the earthquake; instead, God was in the small, still voice which called out of the silence. As we entered our twenty minutes of silence, the wind accompanied us. This same wind would graciously bring in snow flurries that would be ours to enjoy as we hiked throughout the day.

But before our hike, we had our breakfast and meditation from Brian. During his devotional, I penned this poem that had been floating through my mind since my shower that morning. It comes from a frustration I have with not being able to name the plants, animals, rocks, and minerals that seem to come so easily to others. It’s called “No Names.” This poem is special because it is my first and only prose poem.

No Names
I cannot name the flora and
fauna. I cannot classify rocks
or consistently identify
knobs and gaps.

And I cannot name the feeling
I feel when a brown, furry
little thing darts across the
trail and through the yellow
flowers.

But I can say that when I
am among the unnamed rocks,
plants, and beasts,
I feel the Divine Presence
swelling within and without,
converging in the singularity
that is the moment I step
into the woods.

There’s no need to flee, you
unknown, gentle beast. There’s no
need to quake, you powerful tree.
I’m not here to harvest or kill—
though it feels like I’ve died
and risen again.

The hike that morning was memorable. We climbed a set of switchbacks to a beautiful overlook where we learned a new song called “We Shall Be Known.”

Greg and Myself (Thanks Alex(?)).

We then walked to where the trail meets the road and spent around fifteen minutes discussing Wendell Berry’s poem “The Peace of Wild Things.”

Afterwards, we walked towards the wildlife sanctuary and then climbed towards a waterfall. As we sat and ate lunch, Greg and I watched over everyone from our perch on top of a rock overlooking the scene. We discussed life, our spouses, and mine and Laura’s professional goals. Then, it was time to move back towards Montreat.

This was a shorter hike, and the cold prevented us from doing the time of reflection we have normally done the last few years at this spot, but I think it was perfect. We hiked around four miles in roughly two hours (I paused my workout, so the data is incomplete). Our elevation was over 705 feet.

After we returned to Montreal, we freshened up then climbed into the vans to go down to Black Mountain. We explored downtown, stopped in a few shops, and then settled in at Lookout Brewing Company. I talked bluegrass with one of the workers before taking a call from Laura and walking/ running back to Montreat before being picked up by Aram about a quarter mile from the conference center. Laura was having a rough day after a long week of standardized testing and being home with the kiddos (shoutout to the Fords and Johnsons for helping!), so the walk back gave me a chance to talk with her for awhile.

I did 2.52 miles in around 36 minutes. It was only 190 feet of elevation, which surprised me.

After dinner, I sat between Ted and Brian C. as different people shared poems, stories, and experiences again. I had my mandolin, but I decided to share “No Names” towards the end of the evening. I had just learned our daycare is closing down at the end of May, and my emotions were on high alert.

After our indoor campfire time, some goodbyes were said, others were regrettably not said, and sleep came quickly.

There are stories and experiences I could tell about other conversations, some very meaningful to me, but I think I will leave it at this. Alex, Chris, Neil, Robin, David, Sarah, Luca, Tanner, Joan and many others: thank you.

Friday

On Friday, I woke up at 4 and was on the road by 4:45. Cayden and Ellie Shay had an appointment at 10:30, so I needed to be back in time to take them to that! I wished I could have stayed, listened to Brian M. one more time, and said goodbye to everyone, but we had already changed this appointment too many times.

Until next year, “I’m so glad that this is a thing we do. What a day, what a week, what a month, what a year, what a life.”

I will have other pictures to share as others send them to me! I don’t take my phone on the group hikes, so I only have what I’ve been sent so far.

One Last Poem

Amy asked me to write a poem for her series on Acts. It’s taken from Mark, John, and Acts. Here it is:

Wait
He told us to wait, but how?

With the scent of her ointment
still on our noses,
how can we wait?
With the memory of the wounds
still on our fingers,
how can we wait?
With the taste of 153 fish
still on our lips,
how can we wait?
With the sound of his breath
still on our ears,
how can we wait?
With the vision of his ascension
still on our hearts,
how can we wait?

Then—a strong wind, a flash of
flame, overwhelming Presence
saying, “Wait no more.”
Sons, daughters, old, and young
compelled to speak the gospel:
a new tongue.

For the curious: Mark 14 (the smell of the woman’s ointment filling the house foreshadows the Holy Spirit according to some traditions), John 20 (Thomas), John 21 (the seven), John 20:22, and Acts 1.