Yesterday I posted about developing your own Bible reading plan. As a follow up, I want to share a new podcast with you that I just learned about today.
I follow Pat Lencioni’s podcast At the Table. Listening to the latest episode on my drive to work this morning, they shared about his partnering with Chris Stefanick to start a new podcast entitled 3-Minute Reset. Daily episodes began January 1.
The 3-Minute Reset is a simple, daily discipline focused on spending a moment in thought and prayer, and rediscovering the peace that is always available to us. I checked out the first episode during lunch today. I recommend you check it out also.
A year’s commitment to anything can sound daunting. I imagine that’s the feeling most people have when they consider committing to a 365-day Bible reading plan.
Besides that, most of those plans are designed to take you through the entire Bible. A worthy goal to pursue at least once in life. Yet, the challenge to get that done in a year can be tempting to ditch.
I completed one of those plans once on YouVersion…in about 3 years. See the point.
It took me that long because I choose to take my time. And I like to veer off track. If I want to campout in Jonah longer, I do. If I’m intrigued by a theme in Romans, I’ll take a break from the plan and complete other plans covering that theme…as many as I want as long as I want. Coloring outside the lines.
But the idea of reading a portion of the Bible every day does not mean you have to read the entire Bible in any set amount of time. All it means is placing a priority, developing a rhythm in your day that includes reading the Bible. Whenever you do it, how long you do it, where you do it, that’s entirely up to you. And, for those other rule breakers, what you read is also entirely up to you.
For quite a while, I’ve been using YouVersion reading plans. A nice thing that’s possible is customizing a year-long reading plan. Want to give it a try? Here are five steps.
Determine to Make a Daily Commitment. Pretty obvious, but if you aren’t resolved to it, you won’t make it to December 31st. Sure, you might miss a day here or there. Understandable. Give yourself some grace and think about the fact that odds are you’ve got 5 minutes to give to this commitment and missing it a couple of times doesn’t make you a loser. If you are in, move on to step 2.
Decide on a Theme. There’s a popular trend that’s replacing making New Year’s Resolutions. Instead of setting goals and aspirations, you choose a word that you’d like to guide you for the year. Not sure about that, check out this podcast episode to learn more. I started this in 2020. Each year I’ve utilized it differently, more broadly. This year, that word is what I’m using to customize my Bible reading. My word for 2024 is courage. Know your theme? Move on to step 3.
Search Plans. On the YouVersion app (download it now if you haven’t already), you can search for reading plans simply by typing in a word. Most likely, dozens of reading plans are available. You’re ready for step 4.
Save for Later. On each plan description, you have two choices: sample and save for later. Sample allows you to check out any day of the plan. I do that to get an impression if I think I’ll complete it. If I think so, then I save it for later. You don’t have to start the plan when you find it. I’m not worrying about saving enough plans that equal 365 days, by the way. I just saved the ones that looked interesting to me for now. At the moment, I’ve saved enough plans to get me into February (total up the days for each plan to see how many days you’ve already covered). Saved at least one plan? Final step is next.
Follow the Thread. As you read each plan, some verse/story/character will stand out, grab your attention. Take note. Follow that lead to search for other plans to save for later. For instance, since I did my initial plan saving, the book of 1 Peter has gotten my attention. Adding reading plans can feel very fluid and interactive.
That’s it. This approach proved worthwhile and meaningful last year. If it ain’t broke…
The first year I chose a word for the year was 2020. It’s an exercise I’ve grown to appreciate. If you have yet to consider it, here are a few blog posts about it:
My 2023 word was “rich” for which I created a playlist. At one time the playlist had about 20 songs. Last month as we edged closer to year end, I began deleting songs as a way of keeping focus. And in a fun way, unintentionally, I got down to the top three songs on the list that spoke the most to me along this theme. So I thought I’d share them with you.
To share them, here’s the playlist and videos of each song. Enjoy the richness!
As shared in the previous post, “Easy like Sunday morning” was not playing in my head on the drive back to Albuquerque. I had three things on my mind: Heat. Food. Fluids.
Well, there was a fourth thought going on.
Lesson #6: If no one else cares how long you took to finish, let that be a sign. Caring trumps Competing.
As far back as I can remember I’ve been driven by achievement. Guess that explains why one of my top StrengthsFinder is Achiever. Setting goals and self discipline are second nature for me. Two balancing acts that come with that are competition and perfectionism.
This journey to run a race of any distance in all 50 states has certainly improved that balance. I can set goals all day, but there’s no guarantee of meeting them. And at the end of race day, I’m still learning it’s more about the journey than the finish time.
On Sunday in New Mexico, two runners illustrated this to me. We had been on these courses together for three days. We didn’t share names, but we shared encouraging words. And on the day they recognized I was struggling, they made sure to check in on me. Caring for a fellow runner was more important than competing against them.
On these long runs in unfamiliar places with complete strangers, you learn a lot about yourself and others. I’m grateful to be reminded over and over of the more important things.
Personal achievement is one thing. Loving others and creating community is a better thing.
Sunday came. There were two obvious changes. 1) The start time was 30 minutes earlier. 2) The temperature was 12F, by far the coldest day of the weekend.
I thought I was ready. Sure, I was a little tired from the previous two days, but I’ve been more tired and sore at a start line. I felt like I was layered properly. I believed I had eaten and hydrated well. We were running the same course they had ran on Thursday, which I didn’t run. I had been told, however, that it wasn’t a hard course. My mindset was, “Pace yourself. This shouldn’t be too bad. Do what you got to do and hit the road back to Albuquerque.”
For this course, we first were to run a 5+ mile loop twice in a direction that was new to me. About a mile in it became apparent for the first time that we were gradually running uphill. No canyons on this course like the previous two days. Just straight, but up.
I had thought any concerns about elevation were over. It had not been an issue the entire trip.
It became an issue around mile two. The loop included a turnaround at the top of a hill roughly 2.75 miles in, the highest peak of all 39.3 miles of the weekend. I got there, but it was doing a number on my breathing. Thankfully, to finish this loop was downhill, and I could relax.
I came through the aid station. After getting some fluids, I headed back out for loop two. I knew what to expect. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. What I didn’t know was my body was shutting down.
Lesson #5: Most likely, there is a way to finish what you started. PIVOT.
It was probably a combination of two things: dehydration and elevation. Hard to tell in the moment. But all the signs were there-at mile 6 of 13.1. Not a good place to be at 12F.
Running the remaining miles wasn’t going to happen. PIVOT #1: Walk/run the rest of the race in order to finish.
I was layered to run in 12F, not walk. PIVOT #2: Keep moving and get to the car for a self-enforced medical timeout.
That was a first. Thankfully, it was an option. Since we ran by the parking lot to finish each loop, I knew all I had to do was get back to my car to warm up and add another layer. That was my focus for the next four miles. Without the hope of a medical timeout, I’m not sure I would have finished that loop allowing myself to experience the coldest walk of my life.
Chances are wherever you find yourself on your journey there is a way to finish it. Yes, there are those times it’s not the best answer. In my 76-race history, that’s only happened twice. Those odds are pretty good.
In the moment when it’s clear it’s time to pivot, don’t hesitate. There are options. Surrender to finding the best one and take it. The medal will still be waiting for you when you cross the finish line. This time it will say, “I hang around Pivoter’s necks the same way. Let’s go take a nap.”
The day before I flew to New Mexico I got a massage. Mike keeps me ready to run.
In our conversation I told him I had prepared for this race series better than I had since 2012. That’s how well I knew I had trained. I set goals and met them all. Nothing left to do but run.
Lesson #4: Prepare the best possible. But accept you can’t control everything.
For example, Race #1, starting temperature, 37F. Race #2, starting temperature, 25F. Race #3, starting temperature, 12F. But hey, no precipitation.
Next: At the start of Saturday’s race they announced a change in the course. Not that I really knew the difference, but still. Running down the side of a steep canyon to start the race was not what I had in mind. But hey, the easier course meant I finished 20 minutes faster than Friday.
Then came Sunday. More on that later. Suffice it to say, it was a day I’ll not soon forget. Pretty sure I’ve never been that cold. But hey, the rental car heater was amazing.
This is life. Prepare the best you can for the test and your nerves rattle your memory. Prepare the best you can for your wedding day and people turn out to be unreliable. Prepare the best you can for retirement and a diagnosis changes everything.
Part of the best preparation is accepting there is no way you can control all things. You can control your preparation. You can also control your response to what you can’t control.
SUGGESTION: Purposefully place yourself in new or uncomfortable situations. Try a new route to work. Try a new recipe with your dinner guests. Go for a run in the rain. Let the kids decide where to go for dinner.
With some practice, 2024 could be the year you accept it’s impossible to control it all.
The race courses for Friday and Saturday were pretty much the same. Saturday we basically ran Friday’s course backwards minus the climbing. Much to my relief, day two was a lot easier. My quads said, “Thank you very much!”
Don’t get me wrong-the paths were still narrow, and the declines were still steep. In fact, some of the twists had so little margin off the side you were best to walk than run. Otherwise, you’re the coyote flying off the side of the canyon while the road runner meeps along.
Lesson #3: Know your lane and your strengths. Don’t expect the same results when you’re out of them.
Canyons are cool for runners who can train properly. That doesn’t describe Florida runners. Even when you run on trails in Florida, they are flat.
I had already figured that I should expect to run at least a minute slower per mile on average running on trails versus roads. I had hoped that I could average finishing each half in 2:20.
Day 1: Not only were we running on trails…hold up. You ran when you could. There were some spots that were too steep or too twisty to run. I saw in the first mile my hopes were not going to be realized. The only thing to do was adjust.
Being outside your strengths does not mean you are destined to fail. You do not have to quit. Adjust and keep moving. You can finish, just not the way you envisioned.
Learning your lane and discerning your strengths is incredibly valuable. One way to do those two things is to press on when you find yourself in another lane with your weaknesses glaring.
Relax. It’s part of growth. At the finish line, you’ll get a medal that whispers, “You grew today. Congratulations!”
To get to the Four Corners Monument where this race series was staged, I chose to fly into Albuquerque then drive four hours to Colorado. This being my first time in New Mexico, that drive was quite breathtaking. It felt like I was on some amusement park ride. One scene after another left me saying “Wow” over and over again.
Roughly an hour into the drive, I started sneezing. At first I didn’t think much about it. But when I was sneezing about every three minutes, I was puzzled. I’ve had allergic reactions in the past that started like this, but this made no sense.
The next two hours were miserable. Short version: I used every available tissue in the rental car and stopped to get some allergy meds. Nothing was working.
Until, I put on a toboggan cap. Seriously, it was like magic. This Southern boy only had a toboggan in his bag assuming it would come in handy when potentially running in sub-20 degrees. Who knew it was necessary while riding in the car? (The toboggan was swag from running in Naperville, IL, by the way.)
Lesson Number 2: Never underestimate the impact of exposure. Left unaddressed, illness results.
There are many reasons we experience exposure. Ignorance-ours and the other party. Inexperience-mostly ours. Pride or Curiosity-100% ours. Manipulation-purposeful other parties, some intentionally harmful.
Some are very subtle. You hardly notice what’s happening. Some are gradual, so they appear unnoticeable. Others-like sneezing attacks-leave little doubt something’s wrong.
From my experience, whenever the exposure is revealed the sooner the response the better. Just like learning to respect the cold’s effect to exposed skin, awareness of all exposures requires swift response. Repeated small exposures are like paper cuts; over time they add up. All the harmful exposures to our senses matter. And every exposure matters.
As for the large exposures that leave traumatic canyons, they cannot be ignored or considered irrelevant. Reality, they won’t be. They will find a way to be addressed. The injury requires healing by something more than a beanie.
I have a new respect for my toboggan cap. I also have a deeper appreciation what it means to be exposed.
December 8-10 was another three-in-a-row race trip to check off three western states: Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico. Texting with a friend about it, I mentioned I have lessons from the trip. I’ve come up with six that I’ll share in separate posts.
Number 1: Single lane running paths test all the fruits of the spirit, in addition to grace.
Truth be told, I didn’t conduct major research about the courses. I read what was posted on the race series website, which was pretty basic. So imagine my surprise when on the first course right out of the gate we were basically running single file down a rocky, windy path into a canyon. WAKE UP CALL! What in the world have I signed up for?
These Florida legs weren’t trained for this. But more challenging was the mind game going on when I realized I was trapped behind runners whether I wanted to be or not. There was no safe, nice, respectful way around slower runners, better yet, walkers who had no intention of running. That’s a recipe for frustration.
And this was mile 1 of a three-day, 39.3-mile journey. Let the self-talk begin.
In this case, the self-talk was mostly in the line of, “Pace yourself…You’ve got miles to go…Does it really matter how long it takes?…Surely the whole course can’t be like this, right?”
Thankfully, no. The course was a loop course. To complete the half marathon, you had to run the course 3 1/2 times. So after the first loop, you knew what to expect. For me that meant, “Now I can relax.”
First loop challenge: Keep my frustration in check and don’t take it out on anyone. How did I achieve that? I literally had to think less about myself and more about those around me. Were I to be a jerk, selfish, or impatient would cause someone serious injury due to the rocky, steep, windy path we were navigating.
We’ve all been there. Stuck. Frustrated. Surprised. Stressed. How in the world did I get in this position? In those moments, on those paths, we have the choice to look out for those around us or to be all about ourselves. Choice 1: Lean in to how we want others to treat us (follow the Spirit’s lead); Choice 2: Be self-absorbed demanding everyone to get out of our way (ignore the Spirit’s lead).
Choice number one results in everyone staying safe, feeling respected, and enjoying the journey. Choice number two, somebody’s getting hurt-probably a lot of some bodies.
I’ve seen enough and made enough wrong choosing. Thankfully, on this Friday morning in Utah, we all made the right choice. We passed the test and got the medal to show for it.
As a musician, I’ve received many comments and opinions about my abilities, people’s taste, etc., over the years. Church folk love to “bless” musicians with unsolicited opinions.
The two most head scratching came as a result of listeners feeling like they needed to tell me something after being moved during a Sunday service or if they’ve not seen me in a few years and wanted to inquire “where are you now?”
The latter scenario has often included some version of “If you don’t use your talents, God will take them from you.” They, usually older ladies with a need to set me straight, mean well, I suppose. But their well meaning has yet to be motivational.
But the one that seemed most odd was this one: “You missed your calling.” More than once, I’ve been told this because my current job title didn’t include “Worship,” “Music,” “Choir,” or “Pianist.” There really isn’t a response to that comment worth offering, but it seems rather obvious that somehow in the last hour it’s possible I didn’t.
December 1st I got several comments that erased, or at least, countered such past comments. Interestingly, they didn’t follow a church service. The event was a Friday night Christmas fundraising dinner. Throughout the evening, four coworkers joined me to share songs-some familiar, some new, all celebrating the beginning of the season.
Three memorable conversations followed. One gentleman reminisced about his mother’s playing and how he wished he had learned to play. Another man wanted to introduce me to his wife, a long-time piano teacher, who noticed elements of our performance that only a pianist would commend. No judgment. Pure appreciation.
But the one that I’ll most remember came from an unexpected source. Another coworker that I had no idea had any musical past offered this response: “You have inspired me to get out my piano.”
Whatever talent you have, it’s inevitable your sharing of it will draw remarks. Let the judgments go. Cherish and hold those that encourage you to share again.
John Gregory 