Jim Dant is available for event leadership around a variety of topics and themes. He regularly leads Bible study events, leads spiritual direction retreats and speaks at conferences on issues relating to ministry, culture and spirituality. Invite Jim to lead or speak at your event.
Spotting God in Them
There were no women eating at Ron and Cheng’s Home-Cooked Chinese Food restaurant on New Years Day. The only female in sight was the courteous clerk that dipped my black-eyed peas, collard greens, fried pork chop and corn bread from the buffet onto the white styrofoam plate. She laid the plate on an orange tray along with three paper napkins, a white plastic fork and a 16 oz. matching styrofoam cup. I slid into the booth with my lunch and perused the café for fellow feasters.
There were two men seated at similar booths; two children accompanied each. One man was seated with two rambunctious boys. I assumed these to be his sons. The other was with a girl and boy. I assumed these were his children. Neither man was wearing a wedding ring. (I know I’m doing a lot of assuming here.) I assumed these were children spending a portion of their holiday with Dad – maybe the result of a custody arrangement or maybe simply the kind gesture of a former but friendly spouse. Three other middle aged men dined alone. I never expected to be one of them.
Just days from now – on January 12 – the church will celebrate the baptism of Jesus. John the Baptist called all the sinners within earshot to repent and be baptized so that their sins might be forgiven. Jesus got in line. Lining up with all those sinners may have been the fullest moment of his incarnation. He didn’t try to look or act superior to any of us. He just got in line. He not only became one us, he identified with us.
Maybe becoming one of them is one of the most Christ-like things that can happen to us. If the parable is true, Christ dwells in the hungry, naked, sick, imprisoned, and lonely and other ‘thems’ of the world. I’ve become one of them. And rather than being consumed with an anticipated sadness and loneliness…I’ve found God there.
Spotting God…In the Hardcore
John Dahlz was the overall winner of the 2012 Vineman Ironman on Saturday, July 28. He swam 2.4 miles in the Russian River (half against the current and half with) in less than 49 minutes. I took exactly an hour longer. He biked 112 miles on the hilly roads of Napa Valley in 4 hours and 57 minutes. I rode the same course in 8 hours. He ran the 26.2 mile three loops through the back roads of Windsor, California in 3 hours and 52 minutes. I ran – walked much of it – in a painful 6 ½ hours. Most of us would agree that John Dahlz is a hardcore athlete…
I was way too sick to have begun this race, but had trained too long and too hard to walk away from the start line. Four days before the race I contracted…a sore throat…that turned into a chest cold…that – by race day – had gone full blown head cold. Amazingly, I was able to cough and spit and blow my way through the swim and bike legs with little discomfort. But by mile three of the run, the sickness overwhelmed me. It was like having the flu…times ten! Determined to finish, I trudged on. By mile fifteen, my pace had slowed to the point that I knew I would not make the ‘time cutoff’ required to begin loop three. The thought of quitting entered my mind…but I walked on. When I actually missed the cutoff – and knew that I would be ‘officially’ listed as DNF (did not finish) – the embryonic thought of ‘giving up’ grew. A friend, who had accompanied me to the race, simply asked me, “Do you want to finish?” And then offered to walk the last eight miles with me. My only sane thought seemed to be, ‘who quits a 140.6 mile race with only 8 miles to go’. Coughing, straining and puking…I dragged myself through the final miles. To my surprise, the finish area was not empty when I arrived. I crossed the finish line and a volunteer draped a medal around my neck…handed me a finisher’s t-shirt…gave me a hug and said, “You are an ironman.” John Dahlz finished his race in 9 hours and 29 minutes. It took me almost 17 ½ hours.
This was not the way I’d dreamed the day would go. In some ways it was an uglier finish than I had imagined. I am a runner. I worried for weeks about the swim and the bike. I knew, however, that once I got to the run I was in my element. I had envisioned – over and over again – sprinting across the finish. In other ways, however, it was a beautiful finish. A long walk with a friend and fellow warriors, the grace and true understanding of finish line volunteers, and the knowledge that even when the world – or at least the race officials – tell you you’re beat…you can keep going. It has been said that when you’ve finished an Ironman, you have the strength to tell the rest of the world to ‘go to hell.’ It’s true. Reflecting on my journey – months of training, hours in the pool, miles on the bike, step after step after step of running, and 17 plus hours facing down every demon I have – I really don’t give a damn that the ‘Results Page’ of a website labels me as DNF. I finished. Even when it seemed I had no legitimate reason to finish…I finished. I am an Ironman.
I wasn’t the only athlete waging war in the darkness. Keeping pace with me was a lady…carrying an inhaler…fighting asthma for the last 8 miles. Others were on the course limping – impaired along the way by injury or cramps. Others had missed time cutoffs for other reasons, but were pressing on…silent, slow, steady, determined…to be Ironmen and Ironwomen. Suddenly, it was an honor to be among such a crowd. John Dalhz won the Vineman Ironman, July 28, 2012 in 9 hours and 29 minutes. A lot of people would say he is a hardcore athlete – and he is. But the unknown ‘hardcore athletes’ were the ones who pushed their bodies into the late hours of a cold night…and finished the course…not for prize money, but for the pride of knowing we could finish – Ironmen and Ironwomen.
I like that God persistently pursues lost sheep and lost coins and lonely runners at the back of the pack…
Spotting God…In a Well-Paced World
I was a longtime fan of the black rotary dial phone. I liked the way my fingers felt when swirling in the smaller circles of the dial. I was enamored with the bright, white numbers and letters that curved perfectly within each hole. I enjoyed the unique sound of both the clockwise push and the counter clockwise return of the dialing mechanism. I loved the look of that phone on an end table. Push button dialing was years old before I allowed one of those machines in my home. It took even longer to adapt to the idea of a cordless phone…
In recent years, I’ve struggled with the evolution of mobile phones. The earliest versions were too big and a little too uppity. Only people with important jobs or extreme emergencies would need to carry such a monstrosity. However, as these contraptions became more portable, affordable and common, I succumbed. I even purchased one for each of my three daughters…for emergencies only! (Last month was particularly dramatic for my daughters. According to our bill, they endured over 1000 minutes of emergency phone conversations and over 700 emergency texts!) Several months ago, I went to our local phone vender to replace my broken ‘flip phone with no camera.’ I informed the perky little clerk that I only made phone calls…I needed a phone for no other reason. I left with an iphone. It now rules my world…
I expect no recognition for my slow advancement. I expect no one to stand and applaud. There are hundreds of other folk just like me. We stay behind the times. And when we finally catch up with those of you who have enjoyed the ease of such inventions…well…we do it quietly…almost regretting the time we lost without such amenities…
It was recently announced that the Southern Baptist Convention – the nation’s largest Protestant denomination – is poised to elect its first African American president. After 167 years of following Christ, they are electing their first African American as president. 167 years. Excuse me for not standing and applauding…
I’m beginning to understand what Jesus meant when he told the religious leaders, “…prostitutes and tax-collectors will enter the kingdom of heaven before you…” People of faith are too often behind the progressive graces of a well-paced world…
The Cooperative Baptist Fellowship is two decades old. In its short history, the Fellowship has had male, female, clergy, lay, Asian, Caucasian, African American, young and old national moderators. Glad to be where I am…and wondering where we might need to pick up our pace.
Spotting God…In Liquid Commodities
I PUMPED…eight gallons of gasoline into the tank of my 2008 Harvest Moon Convertible Volkswagen Beetle. I glanced at the convenience store marquee and noted that my petro was costing me $3.25 a gallon. (Well…it was actually $3.249 per gallon. Why do they do that?) I only glanced at the well-lit information because I really don’t care. I’m not a ‘gas price watcher.’ I don’t check the ‘miles per gallon’ in my automobile. I have friends who religiously follow and fret and figure and grumble about gasoline related issues. They know all about OPEC (Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries) and guarded reserves and dollars per barrel and price fixing. Me? I just fill up and drive…
I SHOPPED…for printer ink yesterday. Now there’s something that puzzles me. Next to printer ink, gasoline looks like a deal! I can purchase a whole gallon of gas for the low, low price of $3.25 per gallon. This gasoline has to be drawn from the belly of the earth, pumped through miles of pipe, shipped by rail and rig, stored in environmentally stable storage facilities, pumped through state of the art machinery that will take a credit card AND is conveniently covered by an awning! But ink?!? Ink? You just squeeze it from a plant or seed (or even chemically synthesize it in a lab), ship it via any postal carrier and store it in a little plastic box. It doesn’t even come with an awning! And what does printer ink cost? It’s about $38.00 for a tablespoon! Okay…two tablespoons…
I LIFTED…the tiny cup of juice from the silver tray as a fellow parishioner served me. I listened as the minister lifted his cup and said, “The blood of Christ; the cup of salvation.” And all of sudden, gasoline and ink seemed
extremely cheap…
Spotting God…In The Quickstep
I like to dance. I’ll probably never be invited to appear on Dancing with the Stars or even participate in community musical theater. But I like to dance. I’ve never had formal training or been particularly coordinated in my informal attempts. But as a high school student I made a point to appear at all gyrational gatherings. In college, I dated under the disco lights of Packets and the Limelight in Atlanta. I like to dance.
I had the opportunity to dance this past Saturday. I was ending a long run up Northside Drive in Macon, Georgia. A shadow seemed to move across the sidewalk in front of me. An overhanging limb or a darting bird seemed to be casting its sun-darkened image on the pale concrete of the sidewalk. At least that’s what I thought. Stepping inches from the spastic splotch, I recognized the elephae obsoleta obsoleta – a black rat snake! He moved around my feet and I spastically moved around him. We danced…
Several years ago, I was sitting on the examining table of the emergency room at the George E. Weems Memorial Hospital in Apalachicola, Florida. “You have a kidney stone,” the doctor finally reported.
“A kidney stone!” I exclaimed, while continuing to writhe in pain. “How will I know when it’s gone?”
“Well,” the doctor said, “It will move out of your kidney, hurt like hades moving down your ureter, and when it hits your bladder you’ll perform the ‘great kidney stone dance’ until you expel it. It will be gone moments after the dance”
The doctor was right…I danced…
The best dances have nothing to with snakes or stones (Unless maybe it’s Whitesnake or the Rolling Stones), but rather, are the result of love. Having someone wrap their arms around you with a little Norah Jones or Gladys Knight or El DeBarge or Al Green or Marvin Gaye playing in the background. Swaying in a rhythm that lets you know you are held and loved and known.
Sometimes I dance in pain. Sometimes I dance in fear. I think love is the greatest dance. In a life filled with fears and pains, I love it when God cuts in….
Spotting God….In Fickleness
I just finished a 6-mile run on the streets of Columbus, Ohio. Buckeye fever is evident in almost every shop window, on every car bumper and on every piece of clothing. The NCAA Final Four is a bit convicting for me…
After moving from Arkansas, I attended high school in west Kentucky and adopted the Wildcats as my favorite basketball team. Later, spending three years in Louisville – like many young Baptist seminarians in the good old days – turned me into a University of Louisville fan. Recently, my oldest daughter completed a graduate degree at THE Ohio State University…soooo….I’m visiting her in Columbus and rooting for the Buckeyes today. I’m fickle! I admit it! I’ve always been this way…
Growing up in the ArkLaMiss (the tri-state delta of Arkansas, Louisiana and Mississippi), it was required I support the New Orleans Saints when watching professional football. (I was also told Archie Manning was my third cousin twice removed by an aunt-in-law…well…you get the picture.) But I became enamored with Joe Namath and quickly claimed independence from the Saints – defecting to be a New York Jets fan. As a college student, I moved to Atlanta and began following the faltering Falcons. And when it comes to college football…well….I’ve lived in Mississippi, Arkansas, Kentucky and Georgia! I’ve made my way through the SEC like a football floozy! Currently living in Georgia, barking annoys me, buzzing barely sounds menacing and I’m a Georgia State University alum. Again, I’m fickle! I admit it. I really enjoy sports, but I’m not a diehard fan of any team. And that’s okay. I don’t want to die hard. I want to live freely and die gently…
In the last couple of weeks, I’ve worshipped with a Presbyterian congregation and a Baptist congregation. Tomorrow morning I’ll be at a Saturday Mass. Sunday, I’m celebrating April Fool’s Day with my Unitarian Universalist Friends. Next week it’s Passover with ‘my people’ and then Easter with my other people. I’ll admit it. I’m fickle. I really enjoy spending time with God and God’s people. But I’m not a diehard fan of any one team. In fact, I’m not interested in dying hard. I want to live freely and die gently…in the arms of a God who loves us all…
I like the God I worship…a God who is rooting for all of us….
Spotting God….In The Crowd
We stood in line for over an hour and finally reached the top. The roof was packed with camera toting, awe-inspired, loud people. Did I say packed?
I like the quiet. I have no problem being alone and, in fact, tend to seek out sanctuaries of solace. I’ve always resonated with Elijah’s mountain moment – a place where wind and fire and earthquake could not conjure what the quiet would provide. While I love the art of preaching and often feed on the well-crafted sermons of colleagues, I am typically more drawn to meditation rather than the mental meanderings of a fellow human being. I know everyone isn’t bent this way; I am. My bend has often lured me into less than perfect situations…
Several years ago, I led a mission team to New York City’s post-9/11 environment. We spent several days working with a local congregation – building a new playground, teaching children and repairing a building. Every minute of the mission experience was carefully crafted on my meticulously timed itinerary. Copies of such were distributed to all participants. And if I may say so, I had done a fabulous job of insuring that our team would have an experience they would remember for a lifetime. Our first evening in the Big Apple was to be spent in prayer. Before laying a hand on a hammer or sharing a word with a city citizen, I wanted us to pray. What better place than the top of the Empire State Building. Our group standing there…looking out over the electrically lit city…holding hands…in the quiet…all alone…praying. After all, I’d seen the 1993 cinematic tear-jerker Sleepless in Seattle. I watched as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan held hands and gazed lovingly at each other. And I noted…there is no one else up there! Our group can have the top of the Empire State Building all to ourselves…
We stood in line for over an hour and finally reached the top. The roof was packed with camera toting, awe inspired, loud people. Did I say packed? (A month ago I was in Las Vegas. I went to watch the Bellagio fountains. I’m such a savvy traveler now. I knew there would be a crowd and I knew no one from the Oceans 11 cast would be standing there. You live and learn.)
We joined the crowd…and we got loud…and I think we all prayed – rubbing shoulders with the world and gazing through our camera lenses at the skyline of the city. And God was there. Sometimes I like it when God gets noisy…
Spotting God on the Coast
I’M FOLLOWING…Don Fink’s training plan toward my first ironman distance triathlon. In his book titled Be Iron Fit, he provides three 30-week workout schedules: a competitive schedule (time consuming and tough), a ‘just finish’ schedule (relatively easy for the amateur athlete) and an intermediate schedule (somewhere in between the other two). I’m committed to the ‘intermediate schedule’ and I’ve only got twenty weeks to go. The Vineman Ironman – in Napa Valley, California – is held on July 29, 2012. I’m registered. I’m going to be an ironman…
I’M CONTEMPLATING…adjusting Don Fink’s schedule. Last Saturday, I was scheduled to ride my bike for 2 hours and 45 minutes. I happened to be out of town – away from my bike. The weather was threatening; I couldn’t ride outside. Fortunately a local fitness center allowed me to make use of one of their stationary bicycles for the allotted time. Two hours into the ride I had a thought. (Always a dangerous moment for me.) ‘I’m riding at a steady pace…I’m constantly spinning the pedals…but if the race is partially uphill…then it must be partially downhill…so I need to add a little coasting into my training!’ Having pedaled for two hours, I assumed it would be fine to skip the last forty-five minutes of the ride and log that in my journal as ‘coasting time!’ I wondered what Don Fink would think of my alteration to his training schedule – and then I kept pedaling for the final forty-five minutes…
I’M CELEBTATING…Sabbath today. I’m glad God stopped pedaling for a while and gave me permission – gave me a command – to do the same…
Spotting God in the Big Blind
I was ordained to the gospel ministry in 1982. At the time, I filled the pulpit of Parkwood Hills Baptist Church in Decatur, Georgia. In the years that followed, I enjoyed three decades of uninterrupted Sundays in the pulpits of Baptist churches. On Sunday, February 12, I preached my last sermon as a parish pastor…at least for a while…
This past Sunday, February 19, was my first Sunday out of the pulpit in three decades. What to do? I flew to Las Vegas, Nevada. At 8:00 o’clock on Sunday morning (when I’m usually knotting my tie and printing my sermon) I walked into the Poker Room of the Monte Carlo Hotel and Casino and signed up for the casino’s No Limit Texas Hold’em Poker Tournament. An hour later, I was seated at the table and the first cards were dealt…
For the next three hours, I traded pew sitters for poker players. Instead of leading the blind, I was throwing blinds into the pot. As the hands were dealt, I won a few and lost a few – not much different than church work. At times I felt I was too easy to read. That was true in the pastorate, however. I never held my cards very close during my pastoral ministry. People typically knew my hand when it came to issues like homosexuality, interfaith issues, church/state relations, universalism and the like. I folded several times in the early years of ministry (not certain my hand would hold up against what others held) but in later years, I played the cards I was dealt and was confident of their value….
The tournament ended a little after noon…and the rumor is true. I won! Yep. I didn’t place second or third or thirtieth. I won! And just in case you were wondering…I entered the evening tournament that began at 11:00 pm. I was interested in determining if my earlier success had been a fluke or a result of beginner’s luck. I placed second in the evening tournament…
Maybe I heard God wrong thirty years ago…maybe I missed my calling?!? Or maybe…God was simply allowing me to relax and enjoy what might otherwise have been a lonesome and awkward day. I like it when God goes all in…
Spotting God…In Burning Books
These are my last days of my last week as pastor of Highland Hills Baptist Church. For the last couple of weeks, the hours have been filled with hugs and ‘well wishes’ and cups of coffee and lunches and laughter and tears. This week, I’m packing…
Everything has been boxed except the books. Procrastination has ruled the day in this realm. I have fifty-six shelves, each shelf measuring forty-eight inches and each holding anywhere from twenty to fifty books – depending on the length of the book. (These are the kinds of things we calculate when procrastinating.) My procrastination has multiple sources: the sheer number of books, the grief of leaving a space I’ve inhabited for almost fifteen years and, well, laziness. The primary problem, however, is…the books are beckoning me – hundreds of burning bushes inviting me to take off my shoes…peruse a page or two…look for sacred sentences…underlined long ago…
As I slip each book from its resting place, I can’t resist the urge to open and read; passages leap out at me. I remember God’s voice in days past and God seems to speak again…
“I’m beginning to trust that the gods are not going to snatch my firstborn if I happen to enjoy my life.” Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun
“…music is vibration, a disturbance in the air.” Glenn Krutz, Practicing: A Musician’s Return to Music
“I used to think, ‘Life is great, but people suck,’ but now I’ve had to learn the opposite, ‘Life sucks, but people are great.” Neil Peart, Ghost Rider: Travels on the Healing Road
“One day you finally knew what you had to do and began…” Mary Oliver, ‘The Journey,’ Dream Work
I’ve got three boxes filled. Approximately fifty boxes more to go. Two days to finish. I think I’ll make it…
I like it when God wants to chat…
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