I’ll try to send one or two more short notes. I’m pecking out on my Blackberry, so they will be short!

None other than the man in black himself. (Randy Harris, not Johnny Cash.)

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ACU students were buzzing with excitement because fall break is here. Guess what fall break is. Today. That’s right: it’s one day off. But you package it with the name “fall break,” and everyone is giddy with relief.

Great game last night for ACU, defeating the #4 team in the nation. They’re now 7-0.

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Wanted: Two tickets to Game Four! Here’s something I wrote on this blog three years ago:

My insular world of Neosho, Missouri protected me from much of what was happening in 1968. That fall, I entered 7th grade at Neosho Junior High School and started my downtown paper route after school.

So much was happening in the world that year. The Tet offensive was launched in January. Martin Luther King was assassinated in April, and Robert Kennedy in June. Only later did the impact of the My Lai Massacre begin to sink in as we heard news reports about Charlie Company and Lt. William Calley.

Occasionally I’d get to watch “Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In.” Goldie Hawn and Lilly Tomlin made quite an impression — in their own ways. Tiny Tim was singing, “Tip Toe Through the Tulips,” Mike Wallace was launching “60 Minutes” (Don’t you know some exec said, “It’ll never last”?), Peggy Fleming was skating, and Joe Namath was wearing a mink coat!

But in my world, it was Bob Gibson. My beloved Cardinals were headed back to the World Series (after their wins in 1964 and 1967), led by the greatest pitcher of his era. You may disagree — but, hey, start your own blog!

In 1968 Gibby won the National League MVP and the Cy Young. His ERA for the year was 1.12, with 268 strikeouts and 13 shutouts. Maybe most remarkable is that he completed 28 of his 34 starts. Can you imagine a pitcher today having half that many completed games? I still remember having my little transistor radio nearby on any day Gibson was pitching.

That summer my maternal grandmother and my cool, young aunt (who was probably 20ish at the time) took me to Chicago. We were visiting lots of relatives along the way, but I think my Grandma wanted to be there for the start of the Democratic Convention when her candidate, Robert Kennedy, would be nominated. After his assassination, she changed allegiance to Eugene McCarthy, and in August we headed for the Windy City, with Grandma preaching Democratic politics to anyone who would listen.

I’m sure what my aunt remembers most about the trip is the beginning of that stormy convention. (Will there ever be another quite like the 1968 Democratic Convention? And yes — I was there!) But what I remember is that these two women I loved took me to Wrigley Field. And of all luck, they were playing the Cardinals! I had so much fun, they took me back the next day.

In October, we (yes WE — I considered myself part of the team) were facing the Detroit Tigers. With the newspaper connection, we again scored tickets, this time to game 6.

I was in a bit of a predicament as a Cardinal supporter. Because the Cards went into game 5 with a 3-1 lead. If we won that game, we’d repeat as WS champs. But I wouldn’t get to see them in game 6. So I rooted for St. Louis, but didn’t mind much when they lost.

The rest is sad history for a Cardinal fan. We lost both the sixth and seventh games. But that’s not the really sad part. The saddest was that we wouldn’t be returning to a World Series until the 1980s.

In October the Cards lost the World Series and in November Richard Nixon was elected president. My grandma and I were both sad.

I got to stay with John, Sara, Nate, and Brynn Barton, the family we stayed with for a month while they were still missionaries in Uganda. We got to know John and Sara well when I was preaching at the College Church and they were students at Harding. It was also a blast to have our buddies Greg Taylor and Mark Moore staying there.

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As I think of these friends, the old Jinja mission team, and the gang of buddies that I climbed Kilimanjaro with, please check out www.kibogroup.org.

Here’s what the site says about “who we are”: “Kibo – (pronounced, kee-bow) is the highest point in Africa, the peak of Mt Kilimanjaro rising 20,000 feet above the plains of Tanzania. It has long been the goal of many Western climbers who come each year by the thousands and pay thousands of dollars to take the challenge of climbing to Uhuru (freedom) peak. The Kibo group was founded and incorporated as a 501c3 by a group of such climbers in 1999. 14 of us made the five-day climb, half of us lived in east Africa at the time, collectively we represented 80+ years of living and working in Africa. Learn more about how the Kibo Group was founded. Our trip to the highest point in Africa inspired us to help take African communities to their highest points. Since that climb we have been funding various small-scale projects presented to us by East Africans. At present we limit our interaction with countries located in the lake Victoria basin, focusing on the countries of Uganda, Kenya, Tanzania and Rwanda. Recently, as our partners have succeeded the Kibo group has grown to meet the increase in interest. Kibo is not a religious organization yet it is faith based in that our common faith in God inspired us to act in this way. We will consider any group or person that displays a creative spirit, a sustainable plan and a heart for social entrepreneurship. Read more about our motivations.”

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Those of you bringing students to ACU — I hope to see you Sunday morning. Our assemblies will be at 8:15 and 11:00.

I was in Arkansas for two reasons: a meeting in Little Rock and a stress test in Searcy. (Yes, supply your favorite joke here.)

I had just a few minutes to run into the Heritage Center and see a few friends on the Harding campus. Didn’t even have time to make it over to the Bible building to see Ross and Monte if they were around. But what a joy to connect briefly with old friends: Liz, Mike, Rowan, Cecilia. Wish I’d had a lot more time.

Today and tomorrow I’m working on my message on “unanswered prayers.” It’s one of the great mysteries of our faith.

It was a week without internet and with very little television. No phone calls but an occasional check to make sure everyone was all right.

Does that count as fasting?

We didn’t even have a newspaper. Didn’t know until today how much better our week was than Mel Gibson’s. Didn’t know what progress had been made (or not made) in the Middle East. Didn’t know if the Cards, Angels, Rangers, and Yankees were winning or losing. (That’s right: no SportsCenter.)

Just a week with my Beloved and a couple friends. It was wonderful.

But so is home. And — following that little two-hour delay — we’re here.

By the way, I didn’t realize until today that I’d published the previous post twice. As someone pointed out, that’s what you can expect from a guy on his 50th birthday! I started to delete one, but I don’t know how to transfer the comments. It shall remain, then, as a Blog Boo-Boo.

Here are some things I picked up about hiking from reading Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods : Rediscovering America on the Appalachian Trail.

First the joy is in the journey. You can’t just hold your breath waiting for Mt. Katadin at the end of the trail in Maine. It has its own thrill — and there really is a goal for the trip! — but the deepest joy comes every day. It’s the people you meet; it’s the shelter you find; it’s the trees, wildlife, hills, and streams. Bryson mentions once finding an old paperback novel in one of the shelters and the great delight he found in having something to read.

Second, weight matters. He made fun before his trip of the people who walked into hiking stores willing to pay exorbitant prices just for “better,” lighter gear. But on the trail, he realized that over the long haul it made a lot of difference. It was indeed worth paying for the lighter tent and the lighter backpack. (Now, check out Heb. 12:1: “let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.”)

Third, you don’t walk alone. There may be times of solitude, but you find encouragement by traveling with others. There are those you hook up with for a few miles, those you come across at the shelters, and those who sit around in the local pubs to visit before pressing on. Plus, there are all those who’ve come before you to actually make the path. The goal isn’t to find your own way. You have to trust the wisdom of those who’ve preceded you.

And fourth, you must endure. If you’re going to finish the Trail, you have to press on. Past bugs, past exhaustion, past blisters, past boredom.

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Today, that counter hits a million. Leave me a note with your real e-mail address (that doesn’t get published in the comment). I’ll get back with you in a day or two. (We’ll be traveling today.) Good luck!

And then, these things are free:

Having my kids spend a couple hours with Landon Saunders. Move over Garrison Keillor. The greatest voice and the greatest storyteller in America is LS.

Sitting beside a stream with the kind of peaceful noise that people actually pay for on relaxation CDs.

Watching the World Cup with my boys (even though I still don’t love soccer), cheering on the USA — even while being excited for the possibility of Africa having a team move on.

Hiking up hills and down hills. Talking and listening. Hoping against hope for a glimpse of a moose or bear (from a GREAT distance).

Having the five of us together.

I remember at Christmastime when Megan was still alive. No matter how expensive the gifts were, she preferred the boxes and wrapping paper. It felt good in her busy hands.

Haven’t some of you found that? There are things money can buy — e.g., the long, slow, memorable meal — that are certainly worth it. But so many of things that you really remember years later are (almost) free. Jumping on an inner tube to float down the river. Going out for a walk or a bike ride. Packing a picnic. Playing a game of Monopoly late into the evening. Hoops in the driveway. A little league game. Homemade ice cream.

Well, either tomorrow (Friday) or the next day or two, someone will be #1,000,000 since I dropped on the counter. Let me know who you are!

Greetings to all from a beautiful cabin on a God-sent river in the luscious state of VT.

We started off at the granite quarries of Barre, home of Rock of Ages granite and the Hope Cemetery. Then we hit Ben & Jerry’s, taking the tour and then supporting their business through consumption. (It was great, but I’m not much of an ice cream eater. Any able to tell us what the best kind of Ben & Jerry’s is?)

From there we turned south to the Robert Frost Interpretive Trail — a spectacular 1-mile hike with several of his most famous poems posted overlooking the very scenes near his Vermont home that inspired them.

Finally, we took a three-hour hike up Mount Abraham on the Long Trail. And now back to the beautiful cabin on a river where we’re staying.

A couple of our favorite from Frost (along with, of course, “Birches” and “Mending Wall”):

STOPPING BY THE WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

NOTHING GOLD CAN STAY

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

But this morning wasn’t bad. There are so many places that would be in the running for my tag of “most-beautiful-spot-in-the-48-states.” Vermont in the fall; the Grand Canyon; Yosemite — just for starters.

But my favorite spot is the Rocky Mountain National Park. Early this morning I hiked the Bear Lake Trail up to Emerald Lake.

I remember hiking up that trail with my parents when I was a teen. Then the four of us did it the summer after Megan died. And the five of us returned to the Bear Lake trail last summer. I could do it once a week and not get bored!

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Reminder to the “young men” of Highland that I’d like to meet with them at 6:15 the next two Tuesdays (6th and 13th). Guys in their 30s. Or a bit younger. Or a little older.

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Thanks to the wonderful folks at the Arvada Church of Christ for hosting the Zoe conference. They were so gracious!

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My favorite ads on television can be viewed here.
There are six of them — all short and clever.

It’s been a place to speak openly — in evening lectures, classes, breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. (Jerry Rushford has had a way of talking you into doing more than you’d really like sometimes. He’s a very persuasive sort of guy!)

It’s been a place to listen to rich teaching and to be refreshed by times of worship. Great memories of Ken Young’s welcoming smile and worshipful heart, leading at the evening lectures.

For me, it’s especially been a place to connect with good buddies. Lunches with Rick, Chris, Randy, and Milt. Hangin’ with Darryl and Leonard–as well as with Rubel, Brandon, and many others. Even catching up with Searcy friends (David, Don, and some years James and Marla) and Abilene buddies (Thom, Dwight, Eddie, Jack . . .) in a more relaxed environment. This year, for the third time, I think, my parents will be there.

And then there is that other little serendipity: the outrageous beauty. Mountains smacked up against the ocean. What more could you ask for? Plus, the Reel Inn, Malibu Seafood, John’s Garden, The Chart House . . . .

Once again this year, I’ll be teaching my class with Zoe. (Brandon, we’ll miss you!) The class is called “Baptism and Sex.” I know, I know, it opens the door to way too many jokes. But what I really want to talk about is living within a story. The way we live flows out of the story we participate in.

This year makes 21 straight years to speak there. But next year . . . my final year to manage one of Chris’s baseball teams . . . I’m trying to keep the whole Spring schedule open . . . . We’ll see! The string has to be broken sometime.

But not this year. In a couple days, I’m headin’ west!

Those Christian Church guys know how to pick a conference site. In Churches of Christ, we usually go for exotic places like Abilene, Lubbock, and Midland. (Well, there is that annual pilgrimage to Malibu.)

Actually, I think this was exotic even for them. They went there because this is the last year for Bob Russell (who I think maybe started the group many years ago) as senior pastor of the Southeast Christian Church in Louisville–a church of about 19,000. This year is the 100th anniversary of the formal division between Churches of Christ and Christian Churches, so it’s one of many activities planned together.

Building megachurches is no longer a big vision for me. I more prefer the idea of sending out Christ-followers who will seep into every crevice of society as they participate in the mission of Jesus. This may result in large churches, small churches, cell churches, etc.

Having said this, it was wonderful to meet so many of these men and women who have given their lives for evangelism. Very inspiring. (Some of the specific lessons I learned I’ll try to come back to later.) They have built churches that have preached and lived the good news.

We come from different backgrounds, different schools (theirs tend to be Bible colleges and ours tend to be universities), different conferences, different churches, etc. But we have so much heritage in common. One of their ministers told me that it seems to him that they were trained to be evangelists while we were trained to be theologians. That’s exaggerated, of course. But it does indicate that we could certainly use the help each group could offer the other.

Now — about Kauai. What can I say? (Unnecessary note to Highland members: yes, we paid our own way.) Diane and I love to hike together, so we hiked all over the canyon: on the stunning Kalalau trail (with views of the Na Pali coast), to the top of the Sleeping Giant on the west-side trail, to the bottom of Wailua Falls, and on parts of several trails through Waimea Canyon. I also snorkeled a little, but Diane thought the water was a wee bit cold. Against my best judgment (with a touch of acrophia that only kicks in with tiny aircraft, bridges, and some buildings — all things made by people — I feel pretty good on things that God made like mountains), we took a helicopter ride that is one of the most amazing things I’ve ever done for sheer beauty.

We missed the last part of the conference. A 7th grade basketball game to get back to, you know.

We’ve been at a “megachurch senior pastors” conference that is held annually by senior pastors of Christian churches. This year there were five of us (out of about fifty) from Churches of Christ.

It was a good gathering. I’ll try to write more later. But now I’m seriously tired.

Four blocks after it passed us, a 515-pound M&M ballon was blown into a light pole, puncturing it. As it went down, it pulled the light fixture off, causing it to drop down and injure two sisters (one of whom has CP and was in a wheelchair). All we knew was that emergency workers came rushing by, but we had no idea why.

The next morning the NY Times scathed NBC because the network decided they didn’t want their sunny broadcast interrupted by bad news. Not only did they not mention the accident and the injuries, but they also substituted footage from the 2004 parade when it came time for the M&M balloon to pass their cameras.

Al Roker pressed on with his script: “Will these classic candymen get out of this delicious dilemma? Hard to say, but when it comes to sweetness, Yellow and Red continue to melt your heart, but not in your hand.”

Bad news is so hard to deliver, especially when people are in a mood to celebrate. The names Amos, Micah, Hosea, and Isaiah (eighth century prophets) come to mind!

Yesterday we wandered in Central Park and then saw “Wicked” and “Hairspray.” Now we’re at the airport heading back home.

When Matt was young the three of us came here (while, I supppose, my mom kept Megan) — a trip he’s never forgotten. I hope Chris has the same kind of memories a decade from now.

1. The Grand Canyon
2. The Statue of Liberty
3. Yellowstone National Park
4. White House/monuments of Washington, D.C.
5. Niagara Falls
6. Hawaiian islands
7. Mount Rushmore
8. Redwood forests
9. Glaciers/fjords of Alaska
10. Rocky Mountains

Having been to 9 of the 10 (all but Niagara Falls), I have no problem with any being there. Well, I don’t know that I’d put Rushmore in the the top 10, though it’s very impressive. But doesn’t Yosemite have to be there somewhere? What about the trees and mountains of VT/NH? Or the Florida Keys?

Let’s expand the list a couple more. What should be added to the list of “top 12 must-sees in the USA”?