It has been some time since I sat down to write anything specifically for the Reluctant Servant. Not that I don't have thoughts everyday that could potentially become historic bloggings, but my time has seemed to get used for other things during this mostly dry summer in the mountains of North Carolina.

My spiritual journey has not stopped—I have recently read "The Jake Book" (So You Don't Want To Go To Church Anymore) and "Pagan Christianity" and continue to attend a local church gathering and listen to podcasts on the God Journey and Free Believers websites.

Last Saturday I took one of the best road-bike rides of my life as me and my biking buddy Glen took a shot off the beaten path and explored a new road with the name of Big Laurel. I had just finished listening to a podcast entitled "Walking In The Spirit" on the Free Believers site and was stirred up enough to need one of those special Saturdays.

We ended up riding about 43 miles and really enjoying the scenery that was laid out before us—with no pressure to be anywhere at any certain time—we lingered at an easy pace (about 13-14 miles per hour) and just drank up the surrounding area with all our senses. What a delight!

What I mean by stirred up is that I was sufficiently challenged by the "Walking In The Spirit" podcast to begin once again to take a look at the way I was allowing my Christian beliefs to work their way out in me. My conclusion on Friday evening was that I was not living my life to its fullest and that I needed to take time to stop and smell the roses in the middle of doing everything I could think of that had "life in the spirit" surrounding it. In other words—the time is now to live and not wait until we have a full understanding of all that we think or do.

We will never figure it all out and in order to enjoy our lives and where we are at any given moment is to stop thinking in the old ways and embrace the new. Not that we throw the baby out with the bathwater but at least we have to look at what is in the tub to begin with.

A couple of miles into the new road, I noticed a very large feather stuck into the rocks on the road's shoulder. My buddy was ahead of me and I yelled to him that I was going to turn around and get the feather—which is no easy job on a narrow, two lane road when your feet are clipped into your peddles. But get the feather I did and stuck it into my tool kit on the back of my seat and it now rests on top of one of our cabinets at home.

It was a spiritual moment—one that I allowed my self—foolish as it seemed at the time—to fully enjoy.

When I say I needed a good ride I mean to say that the fellowship and exercise provided by biking is second to none in my opinion. However, it is like any other endeavor in the fact that you build up your stamina to a degree each time you participate in that exercise. When I first started biking, I would look at a hill I now climb with relative ease and decide not to tackle it. Much like golf, biking is part mental and part physical—in other words, if you think you can do it, you will take a shot and make it or not you have tried. The next time, you will probably make the putting green or the top of the hill with a little more finesse.

I guess the bottom line is this: I am beginning to understand that much of what I "believe" needs to be re-examined. Much of what I think I know has been fed to me by an institutional church system that is not about my freedom in Christ but my allegiance to whatever it is "they believe". I took part in this system most of my adult life—I even fostered it to some degree and defended it to people who were on their way out.

And much as I took a ride off the beaten path the other day, I need to allow myself the opportunity to explore the territory of my life—in order to know God I have to get rid of some of what I think I know in order to find the truth of what is out there.

It's somewhat like that old Zen story:

A Cup of Tea

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. "It is overfull. No more will go in!"

"Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?"

I fully understand that this is a dangerous proposition from a worldly standpoint—it opens me up to deception. But I firmly believe that He who began a good work in me will carry it until the end.

And with that confidence I will look for roads that I have never traveled and trust that I will always be able to find my way home.