A Walk In the Words

I’m finishing up A Walk In the Woods by Bill Bryson. It’s a delightful book. “Choke on your coffee funny,” quotes Washington Post Book World on the back cover. It’s the story of a middle-aged, overweight, decidedly civilized white guy who decides to hike the Appalachian Trail (yes, the 2,100 mile Georgia-to-Maine Appalachian Trail). The first half of the book had me rolling – literally laughing out loud and insisting that my family “sit down for a minute so I can read you this.” Bryson is a clever writer, and the stories are even more enjoyable if you’ve shared similar experiences with overpriced gear, over-worried camping companions, or over-zealous nocturnal campsite intruders. It really is a fun read.

But halfway through the book, Bryson reaches Front Royal, Virginia, the terminus of the first “half” of his journey. In fact, he never fully returns to the trail in earnest – hiking smidgens of the northern half in five-mile chunks on looping day hikes, rental car never far behind. As such, his narration never seems to find its trail legs again. Instead, he rants. He rants about evolution. He rants about the U.S. Forest Service. He rants about national parks. He rants about deforestation. He rants about the Civilian Service Corps. He rants about the Corps of Engineers. He rants about overdevelopment and he rants about underdevelopment. I don’t mean to suggest that the Forest Service (or any government body, for that matter) is above reproach. And I don’t mean to say that an author shouldn’t express his opinions now and then. I like getting to know what the author thinks. But after several rants, the reader starts to believe that, instead of thoughtful criticisms from which to learn, Bryson’s chapters spring more and more from the I- read- all- these- books- and- hiked- half- the- AT- and- by- golly- I’ve- got- to- write- something muse.

Hiking the AT is a monumental feat. According to Bryson, only 20 percent of those who set out to achieve it ever do. I can’t blame him for quitting. But I wish – for my reading’s sake – that he hadn’t. I suspect that if Bryson had finished the AT, he would have finished a completely enjoyable book. As it is, he’s written half a hilarious, warming, genuine, inspiring and human book. And half a rant. Read Part 1 of this book, then return it to the library and go for a hike.

Tough Love

One of the things I love most about my church is that people are real. I really don’t feel like anyone is putting on a show when they come to church. From the way they dress to their honesty about life, I think my church values genuine-ness (if that’s a word).

But it’s dawning on me that there can be a danger in genuine-ness. In saying things like, “I wish I was more passionate about ministry, but I’m just not there,” we sometimes move from honesty to mediocrity. I don’t mean to say that we should pretend to be passionate about something we’re not. That’s gross, and I really hate it. It’s easy to spot and it turns me waaaaay off. But often when I’m honest with a grace-filled brother about a struggle, regardless of how shocking or mundane the struggle may be, I get excuses from the brother rather than chastisement. The message seems to be, “You’re alright, man. We’ve all been there,” rather than, “That’s a bad place to be, man. That’s not where the Lord wants you and you need to get out.”

I know it’s really hard to chastise someone, especially if you’ve been guilty of the same sin in the past, but I think it’s necessary. Regarding ourselves as redeemed sinners doesn’t mean we should always keep our mouths shut because we’re sinners. It sometimes means we should remind our brother that he is redeemed. There are only a very few men in my life who have had the courage to talk to me that way. I respect them for it immensely.

Not long ago, I met with an older, wiser man and talked to him about my walk with the Lord. I mentioned my mediocrity when it comes to reverence for the Word. (I believe we were discussing Isaiah 66:1-2) and I said something like, “Come on. Who really lives like that? We’re all just people.” That’s when he stopped and looked at me with his head a little cocked to the side and said, “No, Ryan. There are a lot of people who live like that. I know several people who love God’s word passionately and hide it in their hearts.”

That comment has sort-of given me permission to be passionate – and a little eccentric – about getting the Word into my heart.