Name Change and Redesign

Let me take a moment to explain the name change on the blog. The previous name, The Blog That Saved Pittsburgh, was meant to be a play on the old Dr. J movie called, The Fish That Saved Pittsburgh. I've never seen the movie, mostly because it sounds like an awful waste of 2 hours, but I thought I was clever at the time I set this blog up. However, I failed to take into account how obscure this movie really is, so most people took the name of this blog to be heretical narcissism. Neither me nor my blog are saving anyone in the Pittsburgh area, from sin or bad basketball. Let's leave that to Jesus and Julius.

Hence, the new name, and with it a snazzy re-design. Last week, I had a colleague call me a "closet charismatic." He explained that when we think of a charismatic Christian, we think of a hand-waving, praise-song singing enthusiast. But that is not how I often worship. I'm more contemplative, which is a nice way of saying that I'm lost in thought all the time. But he said that even though I'm quiet, he can tell that I'm always seeking to praise God with all that I do and all that I am. I'm a charismatic at heart, but it's hidden behind a veneer of peaceful silence.

It is one of the best compliments anyone has ever given me. Praise the Lord.

Pace

Last week, I found myself on retreat in the forests of northern Pennsylvania. The retreat was mandated by the Board of Ordained Ministry, and I can't say I went into the time apart with much excitement. After all, this mandate came on the heels of a hurried and emotional week at the church, and took 2 days away from the upcoming week, ensuring busyness would greet me when I returned home. Yet, despite my murmuring and arguing about another ordination requirement, I found rest and peace during this time.

One afternoon, we were given a time of silence. I used part of that time to walk the grounds of the retreat center on that wet autumn day. My walk began at a brisk pace - remnants of my cross country days in high school, or perhaps my state of mind at the time. But then I found the retreat center's labyrinth, so I entered. Instantly, the narrow path with numerous twists and turns slowed me to a leisurely stroll.

Slower and slower, I walked the labyrinth's path, following it to the center, pausing there, then slowly retracing my steps as I followed the path back out. As I left the labyrinth, I kept walking. But something was different. My pace had remained as slow as it was inside the labyrinth.

I entered the labyrinth at a hurried pace. But the embrace of God's path slowed me down, centered me around God, and sent me back into the world at the appropriate pace. With that slower pace, I noticed things I hadn't prior to my time in the labyrinth: the babbling brook to my right, the feel of the gravel path below my feet, the beauty of the changing colors on the leaves. And it was all so beautiful.

To where are we hurrying today? Will we make time for prayer? Will we let God draw us in, bring us to our knees, and send us out again at a slower, more appropriate pace? If we cannot stop, will we at least reflect on why our life has reached the point where there's no time left for a walk with God? Will we start walking with God again until we find the right pace?