For a third time… it might snow.

Today is February 1, 2022, and for the last month, I’ve been thinking a lot about the work of transformation but thinking, no matter how much I love it, doesn’t really do much. It does some, but not much.

But now it’s been a month and I’ve posted nothing, but weirdly, thinking about blogging a lot does not necessarily make one a blogger. I’m as shocked as you are by this. Progress, not perfection. But since it’s a Tuesday, and the beginning of the month, here’s a post–

Weight as of February 1, 2022: 239.4 pounds, weighing in this morning.

Totally reasonable health goals for February, 2022:

  • I want to exercise ten times this month.
  • I want to refrain from eating after dinner this month.
  • I want to lose five pounds this month, recognizing weight fluctuates within three pounds.
  • I want to log at least 12,000 steps on at least ten different days.

We’ll see what happens–especially with a snow day possibly looming.

I also feel I should write about this pretty consistently, and provide the clearest explanation possible: I am not making value judgments for or about anyone based on their size or weight, not even myself. I believe that my low level of activity and poor choices about diet and exercise can and should be rectified, and I am sharing those results here for the sake of accountability, and because I’m so sick of hearing about Wordle and our collapsing democracy. Whether I succeed in these or other goals, or not, does not make me a good or a bad person. It makes me a person who is setting goals and seeking to meet them.

it might snow again

Last year–in one of the few posts I made, and the even fewer I kept up on this nearly defunct site–I began things by celebrating the end of a year while expecting five to eight inches of snow! What a neat and serene, blank page kind of way to kick things off. I even used this royalty-free picture that I kind of still love:

credit: Alain Audet, from here.

It is not going to snow tonight. It only recently became cold, and even now, it’s downright balmy for Kansas in December, cresting up into the fifties. It’s a completely different world–a breaking world, perhaps. A broken world, perhaps. An updated forecast, however, suggests we might get a little on New Year’s Day. Perhaps we will. Perhaps we won’t.

2021 was an incredible year, and I accomplished just a few of the twenty-one goals I set for 2021. (Should I have gone for 22 in 2022? Maybe I did.) Here’s where I was successful: I read from a diverse list, I took classes for my doctor of ministry, I developed a rhythm of prayer, I launched a really simple website for my professional endeavors, and I grew in my awareness and practices of responsibility and generosity, financially.

Here’s a few ways I came up short: I gained an average of two pounds every month this year–everything I lost in 2019, I have found (sometimes with a vengeance!) in 2021. I didn’t really connect with neighbors or friends–what an optimist I was at the end of 2020, like we’d get our act together in this pandemic!; I did not take two retreats; I did not develop (magically) an outdoor hobby.

In most ways I grew: I did not read 80 books in 2021, but I did read 63. I did not journal five times a week, but I do journal pretty consistently, missing the random day. I showed up for friends in creative ways. I did not complete my study of 2 Corinthians and then circle back with a fourth source in 1 Corinthians, but not for a lack of trying. And, I’m not even halfway through, and that’s with nearly 200 of 365 days with dedicated study!

I think this year was about perspective and right-sizing. Right-sizing, for those of you not inaugurated to the terminology of recovery communities, suggests that when a person is “right-sized,” s/he is neither too big nor too small for the space they inhabit.

I do have some nutso goals this year. I know I’m not going to scratch the surface on some of them–but I’m okay now working out four times a week as a stretch goal, not six; some of my goals are things I do anyhow because I love them, like improv and Dungeons & Dragons with my ridiculous clergy group. And some are reminders to me that it may or may not snow, it may or may not be a new year, it may or may not be a good day–just turn the page, and keep going.

Happy New Year. Don’t look 2022 right in the eyes, or it’ll charge!!

workout wednesday: end of june, 2021

No weights were harmed or used in this month’s exercise routines.

This is the first one, right? So maybe it’s more of a baseline.

Workouts Completed: 15 (I bombed the second half of June); mostly biking, some substantial walks.

Weight Change: 233 pounds on June 2; 229.7 pounds on June 30. -3.3 lbs this month / -3.3 lbs total.

Trip-Ups: Those little peanut butter pretzels, man. They’ll get you. A little snack, one thinks, before bed is actually two or three hundred calories. Also, I’ve become an expert in talking myself out of exercising–it’s too hot, there’s not enough time, it’s not worth the effort.

Here’s the month’s cliche: I never regret exercising; I often regret not exercising. A few days ago I hopped on the elliptical for the first time in a month. It still works! It’s still doable! I have to get over the hump between knowing I should exercise, and the actual doing of it.

Change in Trajectory for July: I am watching portions, and cutting out eating after dinner. I don’t need dessert; I need to drink water if I want to feel full. (I eat enough at dinner!) Thus, I can actually enjoy the occasional ridiculous culinary pursuit, or whatever.

Reasonable Goals: Lose five pounds. Exercise sixteen times. Get outside often.

Unreasonable (But Fun!) Goals: Lose ten pounds. Exercise twenty-four times. Live outside.

monday mull: on freedom

On Mondays, I take the week’s text and start turning it over in preparation for Sunday’s sermon. This is the Monday Mull.

For Sunday, July 4, 2021: Jeremiah 2:4-13; 1 Peter 2:9-11 (chosen; not lectionary)

Jeremiah 2:4-13 (New Revised Standard Version)
Hear the word of the Lord, O house of Jacob, and all the families of the house of Israel. Thus says the Lord:

What wrong did your ancestors find in me
    that they went far from me,
and went after worthless things, and became worthless themselves?
They did not say, “Where is the Lord
    who brought us up from the land of Egypt,
who led us in the wilderness,
    in a land of deserts and pits,
in a land of drought and deep darkness,
    in a land that no one passes through,
    where no one lives?”
I brought you into a plentiful land
    to eat its fruits and its good things.
But when you entered you defiled my land,
    and made my heritage an abomination.
The priests did not say, “Where is the Lord?”
    Those who handle the law did not know me;
the rulers[a] transgressed against me;
    the prophets prophesied by Baal,
    and went after things that do not profit.

Therefore once more I accuse you,
says the Lord,
    and I accuse your children’s children.
10 Cross to the coasts of Cyprus and look,
    send to Kedar and examine with care;
    see if there has ever been such a thing.
11 Has a nation changed its gods,
    even though they are no gods?
But my people have changed their glory
    for something that does not profit.
12 Be appalled, O heavens, at this,
    be shocked, be utterly desolate,
says the Lord,
13 for my people have committed two evils:
    they have forsaken me,
the fountain of living water,
    and dug out cisterns for themselves,
cracked cisterns
    that can hold no water.

1 Peter 2:9-11 (New Revised Standard Version)

But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people,[a] in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.

10 Once you were not a people,
    but now you are God’s people;
once you had not received mercy,
    but now you have received mercy.

11 Beloved, I urge you as aliens and exiles to abstain from the desires of the flesh that wage war against the soul.

I never know what to do with ‘Muricatide.

I know it’s not a fair title to give the season of Ordinary Time between Memorial Day (last Monday of May) and Veterans’ Day (November 11) in the United States of America, but it is certainly something that is considered in every congregation. It may not be so outside of the American church, but I assure you–when September 11 is a Sunday, every pastor I know is weighing if and how she’ll acknowledge it.

In the congregation I serve, members are patriotic, but our worship is not. We recognize Veterans’ Day, because a contingent of our body are veterans. (We also recognize fathers on Father’s Day, mothers on Mother’s Day, and sinners weekly.) We have moved our naming of those who have joined the choir eternal to the first Sunday of November, All Saints, rather than Memorial Day Sunday. But man, what do we do on the Fourth?

I chose these texts because America is not part of the divine plan, but Americans surely can be.

I do not believe the United States of America is exceptional in the work or realm of God. Our history is too complex, too fractured and too painful to suggest God’s providence has been at work in the country, as a concept and as a whole, from its beginnings or founding. Even with the good that is done at times, the United States is akin to Babylon, not Israel, anyhow.

God is not going to bless a country that keeps children in cages, anyhow.

This is not to say those who are Americans are lost, hopeless, without value or contribution to the Reign of God. We have narrow roads and the eyes of needles to go through before we might best understand our role and rigor in the world. Hence the Jeremiah text, my favorite image from the prophet, this double evil–not only have we rejected the fountain of living water, but we have built our own cracked buckets, insisting our way is as adequate and even better.

I want to play with the First Peter text. I’m… not the biggest fan of First Peter. It’s a very late letter, in terms of the New Testament–it’s at the end of the chronological canon, along with other books I do not value: 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, Titus and 2 Peter. The Church swung back from the radical notion that Jesus is going to show back up at any time, so we can live liberated, inclusive, just lives for God into more prolonged, perhaps permanent, systems of belief and functioning.

The short verses from 2 Peter suggest a call not to American Christianity, but the greater Church, founded on mercy. If we are going to be counter-cultural, we have to drop our cracked cisterns and seek God at the source; we lose labels and privileges that come from it.

I hope to affirm patriotism as a vital part of civil society–the loss of civil religion and guiding myth have led to our polarization that is insidious, all-encompassing in our world; patriots love the country and want it to change, improve and grow. And, patriotism is not a spiritual gift; it is not the highest calling. We are aliens and exiles, even under the Stars and Stripes. What does it mean if our currency is mercy?

is this a bullet journal?

I mean, yes, I guess so.

So a few years ago, there was this great big hullabaloo about bullet journaling. Mindfulness! Productivity! Organization! Analog thinking in a digital age! Here’s a link to the website.

I loved the idea. I love a lot of ideas–it’s honestly a problem for me, if I’m not careful. But I liked the foundational principle, because I like making lists, and I like checking things off lists. I’d tried methods before, and I had these grand designs for hand-written journals, and deep, perfectly symmetrical notebooks–are you a notebook person? Someone who can’t help but buy those little books at the front of bookstores, and fill them with (ultimately) your best intentions? I’ve gotten better with that; I don’t buy any except the annual bullet journal anymore.

I don’t want you to hear “bullet journal” and think of this:

There’s nothing wrong with the above, if that’s your thing. I have noticed, digging through pages upon pages of “interesting page ideas,” that there’s got to be a lot of pre-formatting that happens with these posts, right? I make mistakes all the time, and it took a long time to just cross out the mistake and keep going; to miss a day or week and pick it back up. I can appreciate the stuff above, but it’s very… manufactured.

I don’t do it in color. I don’t draw. I have pretty straight forward pages. I’m happy with it.

I have monthly pages. This is my monthly tracker–and yeah, I know, I didn’t exercise a lot in the top of the year.

This is what my weekly tracker looks like–I have some tasks every day, I try to mindfully reflect at the end of the day on what was accomplished (left hand margin); I keep notes and little bits of information on the right hand margin, and goals at the bottom right. The goals line up to the Seven Points.

I recommend bullet journaling–it’s simple, it has helped me keep things in line, and I suppose I’m more mindful. I recommend you practice grace with yourself. If you want to do the ornate, full-color, taped up pages, go for it–but I’ve found more success with a pen, going one day at a time.

…upon further reflection–I am really not trashing people who do the very planned, meticulous pages. I do not personally find value in it. But if that is the means and modes of self-expression for you, go for it. I don’t care, so long as it does cause or perpetuate harm, really.

the spiritual practice of study

On my best days, I get up just before five in the morning. I say morning prayers. I pour a cup of coffee. And I spend about thirty minutes studying scripture. In 2020, it was First Corinthians. This year, it’s Second Corinthians.

Believe it or not, I’m not sharing this information so I can seem like Such A Better Person Than You.

A few years ago, my friend Casey asked what part of the Bible I was studying. “Oh,” I said. “I’m doing this series on Galatians in the spring, I think, so I’ve been really getting through commentaries,” and she cut me off. “For yourself,” she said. “What are you studying for your own spirit, for your own development?”

So yes, this is kind of a pastor-specific post, but bear with me here–in all the hubbub of planning studies and prepping sermons, I’d lost track of the spiritual practice I enjoy the most–Bible study.

I formalized it in 2020–I want to be clear: I did personal Bible study prior to last year. Last year, however, I made a ridiculous goal and actually succeeded: Go through First Corinthians with three commentaries. The ones I chose were J. Paul Sempley’s from The New Interpreter’s Bible Commentary, Richard Hays’ from the Interpretation Commentary series, and Gordon Fee’s massive tome from the New International Commentary on the New Testament. I went pericope (chunk of text) by pericope (chunk of text), usually early in the morning, with a few Saturday marathons.

That’s the First Corinthians binder.

I like yellow notepads so I took notes on those. I could have done front and back, but I didn’t–so please, hold off on telling me how impressed you are at my copious note-taking. (Though, I did average about ten pages of handwritten notes per pericope–I wanted to be thorough. Did you know there are studies that show taking notes by hand helps memory retention?)

It’s more about this: I set a goal and stuck to it. I’m a big thinker; I live in my head and the future, and I sometimes struggle with the idea of completing something and the work it takes to do so. (The idea is just as good, I believe at the onset, as actually completing it.) It’s nice to have thoroughly studied a foundational text of Christianity. I bought two more commentaries to work through as I type up my notes, after I finish 2 Corinthians. In the picture below, you can see the few notes I have–the yellow pages on top of the shelf.

Yes, there are DND supplies on the bottom shelf. No, you can’t borrow them.

If you are looking for a spiritual practice and you’re not so big on silence or stillness, I recommend the deep study of scripture. Grab a couple commentaries–they’re surprisingly cheap at used bookstores, go figure; has a few new ones, surely. Find some time, open some scripture, say a prayer, and start taking notes. I’ll even write out some steps, right here:

  1. Pick a book that’s not super long, and not remarkably complex. Don’t start with Jeremiah or Ezekiel, is what I’m saying. If your goal is to get through an entire book, choose something doable–a minor prophet, an epistle. Do you prefer narrative, or are you all right with theology?
  2. Get a couple of commentaries–at least one academic. Historical, literary, ideological, and all those other contexts matter, as do the original languages. It’s fine if you want to use “Laity Dave’s Quick Jaunt through Philippians,” it really is–but learn something. Also feel free to skip the paragraphs in which syntax is parsed and parsed and parsed.
  3. Print out the scripture double-spaced. You’ll want to take notes on some word choices and orders–translations into English are, by definition, imprecise because they’re not in Greek. What does it mean for “power” to be exousia rather than dynamis? You may think nothing right now–but you’re mistaken! Make notes on the printed out scripture, keep it with your notes.
  4. Set aside actual time to do it. Twenty minutes, once you get into the groove and become familiar with the commentators, is a productive amount of time. I can never do more than forty in a sitting. My brain has enough, and that’s okay.
  5. Invite the Holy Spirit to guide your study. Because this is feeding your Spirit and deepening your faith. Why wouldn’t you want the presence of the Divine invoked and blessed for it?
  6. Make good mistakes, don’t get caught up in form. In the picture below, you’ll see I have a picture of my notes from Hays Chapter 11:17-34, which was broken up in the commentaries as vv. 17-22, 23-26 and 29-34. Because of how I formatted the printouts, I put the third page of the notes, and only the third page of the notes, in the new section with the printed out scripture. If you’re thinking, “This has no bearing on anything I care about, Arthur,” you’re absolutely right! That right there is the point: these are your notes. Throw them away when you’re done, if you want. But again, why would you do that?

And, as with exercising, as with journaling, as with anything that matters in the work of transformation–if you miss a day, or a couple days, or a week, or two weeks: just come back to it. Turn the page and start up again. Because if it–whatever it is–is about doing something flawlessly and effortlessly the first time, you probably should not be reading this blog nor doing anything suggested herein.

Are you going to study scripture this year? What are you thinking about? Need recommendations? Want to tell me why I’m wrong about everything? Leave me a comment, drop me a line!

workout wednesday: the thousand reps

While establishing the baseline yesterday for Transformation Tuesday, I said I’d post about my go-to workout in 2020 (and probably for at least the start of 2021): The Thousand Reps. So I found this in early 2020, from (which, if you’ve never been, is a marvelous free resource that you should use, and donate to–they are not a sponsor of this blog. Yet?) It’s a challenge to do 1,000 reps of exercises in a day, stacking six exercises however one wishes to do so.

I made two changes over the seven months I’ve been doing this–instead of jump-in planks, I do knee-to-elbows; instead of hop-heel clicks, I do high knees. These changes came over time–I work out on a concrete porch, my knees couldn’t take the hop-heel jumping (and yes, I could have just changed my form!)–but here’s a sample of numbers from workouts.

Please note I’ve kept track of these only since June, when I began this kind of exercise in earnest. (In 2020, I worked toward The Thousand Reps 74 times, reaching the goal three times.)

June 16Sept. 17Dec. 16
jumping jacks96200250
high knees (hop heels)(48)80125
elbows-to-knees (plank jump ins)(48)80125
four sets, four sets and five sets, respectively

The intention behind the design of The Thousand Reps may have been to do numerous workouts in a day, but I don’t have the time for that. I do 1,000 in less than thirty minutes, with adequate rest between sets. It only took me six months to figure it out–and I more or less took October off.

For the mathematically uninclined, The Thousand Reps is done in five sets of 25 push-ups, sit-ups, high knees and elbow-to-knees, and then fifty squats and fifty jumping jacks. When this becomes easy, I will add a sixth set, or increase the number of reps per set. But right now, in January 2021, I’m happy to aim for 16 bodyweight exercise sessions, and eight The Thousand Reps workouts.

I joked with B. the day I hit one thousand, “Now I don’t have to work out anymore.” It’s sometimes hard to stay motivated, after six months of working toward it. And there were so many plans–I’ll get to 750 by September, and 850 by October–and it took one day to just snap and insist on doing one more set. And here we are.

You can do this too. Start with what you can do, and then do a little more every day. It is possible–I’m living, walking, talking proof–and then you get to say things like, “Oh, I do 125 sit-ups each workout,” and feel smug as you grate cheese on your abs.*

What’s your go-to workout? Do you use equipment at home? What’s that like?

*actual results will vary; I probably have abs, but I also love cheese.

next beginnings

My alarm went off at four forty-five today–I did not kick it from a regular weekday schedule, and I think my phone believes I’ve given up on holidays. (It no longer asks, “Tomorrow is Flag Day (Observed); would you like to forgo your alarm?) I gave my orange cat Copperfield his dose of pain meds, and saw that it was snowing out.

Y’all. I love snow. I wrote about it some yesterday, before the next beginnings of today, because I really love snow. It’s a blank slate. It’s a callback to good days of childhood. It makes the world–at least the world under inches, the world of a few miles–be so intentional and examine their priorities.

As I went back to bed at five a.m., having drugged the cat and thought about doing Vigils (I went to sleep hours past my bedtime, I was groggy), I thought, “Well there goes the Best Morning on the first day of the year.” I promptly let go of that self-criticism, and went back to sleep.

Do you have a morning routine? I’ve developed one in the last six months. Here’s a picture of it, rather than a list:

A picture of a lit candle, full coffee cup, assorted chargers, a smart watch, and four books: A Holy Bible, A Year with Hafiz, The Divine Hours, and a blue journal with a beetle sticker on nit.
Completely staged, but a good representation of what “the opening” entails: coffee, exercise, Hafiz, prayer, scripture and the omnipresent Blue Book. The candle and the sparkling water are bonus.

On what I call best mornings, I rise early. I say prayers, I have coffee, I meditate on Hafiz a little, and I study scripture. I convince myself I should work out, and then do so, trying to negotiate away sets with myself the whole time. I sometimes succeed at stopping early.

This morning, I woke up and stayed in bed a bit. I watched the snow come down with B in a quiet house. I had a bagel and cream cheese a friend of ours shipped from New York. And I still found the time to pray, and do the daily Psalms, and sit with Hafiz, and look out on the next beginning of the next year.

I know a few years ago, I would have considered the year blown by sleeping, or not following a regular order, or not hitting every barely-considered self-made barrier checkpoint from the beginning. Resolutions that don’t have room for failure–repeated failure, complete failure, overt failure, unintentional failure–aren’t resolutions but self-loathing written down in a numbered list.

This is what I know: Today is a new day, just like yesterday was, and just as tomorrow will be. Therefore today I can strive to become more, and maybe through God’s grace and increased discipline, I will. And maybe I won’t–and tomorrow’s a new day.

I needed the snow this morning. It’s really coming down, and though it is supposed to stop at noon, I kind of hope it goes and swirls and falls all day and night. A good reminder for one like me who needs to live in next beginnings.

it is going to snow

credit: Alain Audet, from here.

I grew up outside of Saint Louis, Missouri, and we had snow in the winter. Maybe not a lot, but some, and I cannot remember a winter without it.

I moved to Texas in 2007, and there were maybe three instances of meaningful snow. (There was also the time TCU cancelled classes for two days because of an eighth of an inch of snow, but that’s not to be discussed on this blog, surely.)

I am now in Kansas. We are expecting five to eight inches. I am very excited because I love snow. I am very excited, too, because it is to happen tonight, the last night of 2020, and into the morning of the first night of 2021.

This is not a blog about New Year’s Resolutions. This is a blog that begins, formally, on the first of January because I have benchmarks and goalposts in this continual work of transformation–I want to work toward something–and I am so very excited to start the new year.

I have recently talked resolutions with a few friends, and none of them do New Year’s Resolutions. To be honest, I don’t officially, either–I take inventory, alter course, and keep aiming for the next right thing. I love calendars and goal tracking–tonight’s my jam, y’all! It’s okay to start over again and again and again, so long as there’s progress. I realize it means it’s not a clean restart–there’s always nuance.

Today is a simple day. I will be taking care of some work matters that must be addressed. I’ll be reading for class in a few weeks, and then making dinner. Tonight, I have no idea what we’re going to do until midnight, because The Kid has decided she’s going to try to stay up. At some point, I will be archiving my orange book and blessing the 2021’s Blue Book. And I am going to watch the snow fall. I am so ready, I hope it does not get blown off course.

Welcome to arthur the lesser, though we begin in earnest tomorrow. Bundle up!