07:00 PM
Ken Pierpont; 2 Samuel 6
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When Not to Dance and When to Dance
Why is Your Pack So Heavy?
It’s no exaggeration to say that Tom Count’s pack weighed sixty pounds. That’s a big pack for a short hike, but we weren’t on a short hike. We were in the Algonquin Wilderness in Canada and we would cover 110 miles in six days by canoe and portage. The Canoes would carry us or we would carry our canoes and packs over every single inch of it. We would carry our gear and canoes and food over some beautiful but rugged terrain. Tom had done this before and he’s a bright guy so I supposed he knew what he was doing, but I questioned the wisdom of packing so much stuff so far.
My son Daniel and daughter Hannah and I shared a canoe. One afternoon I was distracted by the beauty of the water we were entering at the end of a portage. We got our canoe into the water sideways. We were swept back toward a section of jagged rocks that would dump us and wet all our gear if we hit it. We paddled furiously but I knew that it was hopeless. Pack and all Tom jumped into the water and helped keep us upright. Pack and all. I thanked him and shook my head. We were all really grateful to have dry gear that night.
Each of us carried his own food—just enough for the week. I asked Tom about the size of his pack. He said he brought extra food. I figured he had a big appetite, what with all the heroic deeds and all.
He said, “It’s a long way to Wendy’s from here. For the next week if you eat it you carried it in.” In our party we caught one fish all week and shared it among a large group. You would not believe how good that little fish tasted out there in the wild.
By Friday most of us were running very low on food. You burned calories like a weight-lifter out there paddling in the wind and water. You ate like a football player at the training table. We would be done on Saturday. Friday almost no one had any food left to speak of. I had just the bare essentials. lonely down in the bottom of my food bag. At that point you started looking around and considering killing and eating the weak. Dan paddled across large lakes toward the end of the week chanting Baconater, Baconater, Baconater…
It was Thursday or Friday that we were all sitting around the fire talking and Tom said, “Hey, I’ve got some extra food, if anyone’s out of grub.” He started pulling things from his pack and tossing them to people who called out like frenzied teens at a rock concert. I was salivating among them. Tom gave me a heavy pack of lemon-pepper tuna. It was good, so good. He gave lots of stuff to lots of people.
He carried this stuff in his heavy pack all week so he could be a blessing on Friday when he knew everyone would be hungry.
I just sat there and shook my head again, this time in admiration.
Are you pakin’ anything to give away when everyone else has had a hard way and can’t go on?
Tom led a young guy to Christ on that trip. The boy is in Bible college this fall. He got wet to keep us dry. He packed extra food for others. Last night Tom sang in church and I was thinkin’ about that.
Ken Pierpont
Granville Cottage
Riverview, Michigan
September 13, 2010
A Flyover of Joshua
06:00 PM
Ken Pierpont
Series: A Flyover of the Books of the Bible; Joshua
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The Lineage of the King of Kings
11:00 AM
Ken Pierpont
Series: Matthew’s Gospel; Matthew 1:1-17
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Coolest Missionary Pic Ever!
The Bakers serve on staff at Camp Barakel. Their income comes from the gifts of churches and individuals. I found this pic on Facebook. Looks like they are putting together a prayer card. So I prayed for them this morning. This is one of the most delightful prayer cards I have ever seen. I like it for a number of reasons. It is joyful. It is at Barakel on Shear Lake. It is a family. Mom here in the picture (Lydia) is one of Tom and Joyce Harmon’s children. I love Tom Harmon and he has been a great friend and a great help to me and to my family and to Evangel. If you would like to hear some great family messages visit the Camp Barakel podcast page.
This picture was taken on Shear Lake. Barakel owns all the property frontage along the Lake. It is a beautiful place. If you have never been there you should visit the web site, get out your calendar and plan a retreat or camp right now. You will be blessed. I have been speaking at Barakel for twelve years. Two of my sons have served there on summer staff. One met his wife there.
Maybe you could stop for a minute and click on this image. It will almost fill the screen, then pray for the Bakers today. When you are done click on the Barakel link, pick a camp or retreat, get out your calendar and plan a trip to Beautiful Blessed Barakel. Let them know I sent you. (Gives me street credit) 🙂
(Speaking of credit… Sarah McCormick shot this photo up on Shear Lake).
Sunset on Summer
Here are a couple of related re-posts that I think you will like, especially those of you who are experiencing the nest emptying out. If you are a young parent you might want to take a quiet moment and listen to this story or read it.
Here is the title story from my book Sunset on Summer. Download and enjoy. Let me know what you think.
Sunset on Summer
Thanks to Daniel for producing the podcast.
Things are changing fast. I am sailing away at a clip from my youth into uncharted waters they call “mid-life.” I am finding it bittersweet. I used to have so many plans. I still do. But now along with the plans I have memories like treasured photos of children who have grown up or places that have grown sacred.
One memory that will never fade from my mind took place on Labor Day our last year all together under one roof as a family. The next summer our first born son Kyle would leave for a year of missionary service and then it would be off to college a continent away.
We had spent the day together in the yard working in the herb garden, grilling out, reading, talking, and sipping lemonade. We played a little touch football, Mom standing guard with a water hose to make sure no one trespassed into her flower beds. Toward evening we all agreed to drive to Grand Haven and watch the sun set on Lake Michigan.
In a resort town like Grand Haven the whole atmosphere changes after Labor Day. When we arrived it was cool and fall-like. The sun was falling steadily into the lake. We strode quickly trying to reach the lighthouse before the sun disappeared. As we walked the sun touched the horizon and then steadily sank from sight. Walking along more than once I heard someone say, “That was over so fast.” Everyone had gathered and waited to see the last sunset of summer and they were talking about how quickly the sun had set. All I could think about walking out toward the sunset with my precious first-born son was about how quickly the sunset on summer had come.
The whole family gathered at the foot of the lighthouse on the end of the pier and watched the sky turn golden-orange. A few boats growled into the harbor for the evening. A ship sat out on the horizon moving imperceptibly slow going who-knows-where. Gentle waves lapped the rocks. Occasionally a bigger wave spouted up in spray and mist. The wind swept strong over the point and we all stood close to keep each other warm. There was a sweetness in the air. My heart grew tender and alive to the world around me.
My mind went back through the years with my son. They passed swift as a summer- short as a sunset. We went to a few ball games together. We camped out together a few times. Together we gazed into a few campfires. Together we floated a few rivers. We went fishing a few times. We washed the car together a few times. I taught him to tie a tie, shake hands, and drink his coffee black. I taught him the books of the Bible. I taught him to ride a bike and a few days later I taught him to drive. Together we laughed and cried. We loved a couple of dogs together, together we buried them, and together we hurt. Together we tried to understand the mysteries of life and love. A few times we walked together under a full moon in awe at the wonder of God’s world. Together we sang and prayed and worshipped God. And soon, for the first time, we would go on– but not together. The reality of it settled in on me that night on the pier.
As the purple of night pushed in on the pale blue and orange twilight we turned and made our way back. Kyle was holding his little sister Hope. She was giggling over his shoulder at her mother when suddenly she said “Momma” for the first time. Lois was delighted and her eyes glowed. Hope looked back with the same lively brown eyes. One child ready to go make his way in the world was carrying another just learning to talk.
When we reached the boardwalk we all turned and saw the lighthouse and pier lights blinking red against the dusk. A string of white harbor lights lined the catwalk. The afterglow of the sun cast the lighthouse and the pier light in a sharp black silhouette. Stars appeared in the growing darkness overhead. Lovers held one another or walked hand-in-hand. Fishermen packed up their gear and sauntered toward shore. Children climbed on the rocks. Everyone made toward shore along the lighted walkway.
In an hour we had watched the sun set on summer and turned toward autumn with a life-long memory in our hearts. I felt the pain that always comes with love and my soul whispered; “Breathe deep, walk slow, hold tight to those you love, the sun is setting and it will be over so fast.”
Whenever I think back on that evening I hear the words again and again, “That was over so fast.”
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