The black and white ball was skirting across the field. I had the angle, and I was racing for it. I was flying. As I planted my right foot and swung my left leg to make the cross the field kick. . . .

“Oww! Randy, wake up! Stop your stupid soccer game!” Wendy cried as she kicked me back.

Obviously, this wasn’t my first soccer dream.

From my earliest days, I remember loving to run. Playing chase until my side ached. (I never did find out what caused that. But when the pain subsided, we would all be running again.)

Playing baseball and stealing bases.

Foot races.

Touch football. (two below)

Tackle football.


Then, in college, soccer.

My favorite because I was always running.

I wasn’t always the fastest, but I could always compete.

Not distance running, though.

I was more of a dash man.

So when I was sixty, I played in a student faculty flag football game, and I hurt so bad and so long after that I made Wendy promise to never let me do that again.

But, I still think the running is the most joyous expression of life’s movements.

Of course, my knees hurt now, as arthritis sets into the various joints of my body, my ankles don’t feel that strong, I hobble for a few steps every time I get out of my van, when I get up during the night, I think about the steps I am taking.

Yes. I am 70.

Last Sunday, our Sunday School class had a fellowship lunch after church in the gym.

Wendy and I sat with the youngest couple in our class, and their three boys, 4, 6, and 8 years old.

We talked. The boys played.

At the end, I said to the boys, “I think we need to race around the gym. You want to?”

I don’t know why I thought I could do this, the words just came out.

I had on cowboy boots.

So, I said “Go!” let the three get started, and I took off.

Now, this is a little hard to explain, but this is what happened.

I ran. I wasn’t watching the boys as I passed them. I wasn’t aware of anything except the fact that I was running. I think I was running fast.

Nothing hurt.

It felt effortless, as if I were being carried along.

The oldest boy cut across the gym so he could beat me.

He was smiling and grabbed my hand.

We had only gone halfway around the gym, but I wasn’t even winded.

The six year old came up behind me, hugged me, and said, “Mama, Mama, I didn’t know old men could run so fast!”

I thought,”This is gonna hurt tomorrow.”


At least, not any more than usual.

This is what I think.

My running joy was given to me by my Creator.

“When I run I feel His pleasure.” (Eric Liddell)

My life will not end when this tired old body lays down for the last time.

We hear that there is a new one waiting for us, when we beat death at its evil game.

If I get there before you do, when you get there, you will probably see me as I run past, laughing with joy.

I’m sure, I won’t be the only one.

Holler at me, and I will stop. We’ll talk, and I will have some things and places and people I will want to show you.

But, I may challenge you to a short race.

Did I tell you that I love to run?

“For the eyes of the LORD range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to Him.” 2 Chronicles16:9

“I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.” Psalm 27:13-14

“But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31



First off, I’m what they call an avoider. You know, in the fight or flight scenarios, I’m the one that would just pretend that we can all just get along. Conflict cannot be good, right?

Well, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe we were created for conflict. Think about it. Every good story has to have it, something to cause a level of tension, discomfort in our gut. I hate that feeling, in the gut. But, I love it when the feeling is fixed, when something is resolved, and things get good again. (I’m a bit of a good chick flick fan, but don’t tell anyone.)

I said we were created for conflict. That presumes that we were created, not that we evolved. What if things weren’t happening by random chance, and every difficult circumstance that came to us were orchestrated by a master coach, who knew what kind of training we needed to succeed in the “game” we were playing?

The Bible says that we should be really, really happy when these conflicts come, because they reveal weaknesses inside us that prevent us from “winning the game.” They cause us to find the strength to overcome. (James 1:2-4)

For the believer, that strength is revealed to come from an external source, the Creator.

But, even in a non-believers life, conflict can push him to overcome, to grow stronger.

The difference lies in the end result.

In a believer’s life, the weaknesses are replaced by a trust and dependence on the One who grants true life.

To the non-believer, a path to life may be given, but pride and self-reliance will often blind his eyes to this path.

The Bible also says that we can believe that we are deciding our own ways, but that God directs every step, orchestrates every conflict and trial. (Proverbs 16:9)

Is your latest conflict about to bring you joy, or do you just want to escape?



Clearly, I’m out of my league… (3-6-17)

It started out as a simple comment on an example of “adaptation”.

“Or, maybe it was created that way,” I said.

They knew their science.

I didn’t.

One referred me to a website so I could learn the “provables”. Said that I was asking questions, but not answering his questions.

He was right.

I have a lot of questions.

Kids ask a lot of questions.

It’s not that I doubt science. It just seems that, sometimes, science claims things as facts that may not be facts.

It just doesn’t feel right.

If the age of stars can be proven, showing us the age of the universe, how can they say that they know the age of a star cluster to be 15 billion years?

Maybe 12, or possibly 18.


Now if you say someone is between 12 and 18, that’s a bit of a stretch, but some girls start dressing older at a younger age, and, maybe…

But, 6 billion years approximation. Maybe?

(That’s kinda like the government telling us that an infrastructure plan will be about a trillion dollars. Without coughing. Or mumbling.)

And they can’t tell the age of one star. They have to use clusters.

Because they “assume that the cluster formed at the same time.”

Now, it may be me, but that seems like you are having to start with an assumption.

I’m too old to tackle the textbooks. I keep frustrating my friends that like the provability of science as opposed to the nonprovability of God, and the idea of creation as I see it.

My friends are extremely smart, extremely kind, extremely tolerant.

I really like them.

I love the discussions.

I just want them to see what I see.

Maybe it’s true, that knowledge and wisdom are not the same.

Maybe, becoming like a child is the best way to see the real proof.




A Facebook friend and I were having a discussion on science vs belief in God.

Now, I think science and the desire to learn more about the creation comes from God, but the argument was about things that can be observed and verified with reproducible experiments as opposed to “faith, legends, myths, and imaginary beings.” I believe these were the words he used.

He sent me a video explaining “string theory” and “the theory of everything.”

I have to say, this little video was simple enough for my simple brain to sort of grasp what it was talking about.
But, the funny thing was, it was all about tiny subatomic particles that are too tiny for scientists to observe, so they observe them by the effects they have on light or sound waves.

I asked my friend if he believed in these “invisible” particles, and he said it had nothing to do with “belief”, but that it was a study in the scientific process of learning what is real and true.

After a little back and forth between us, he politely left the conversation with the statement “neither one of us is going to change his mind.”

That’s when I realized something…he used the word “faith” alongside fairy tale words, as if faith is some ignorant notion of “religion” that has no real basis to it.

“Without faith, it is impossible to please God. For, to come to Him, you must believe that He exists, and that He rewards those who diligently seek Him.”

He is invisible…but not imaginary.

He plants the desire to find Him in me, and then I can respond by seeking Him…or not seeking Him.

When I seek Him, I begin to see Him.
I begin to see how He works.
How my faith grows as I learn to trust Him.
How my faith in Him becomes as real an object as the sun in the sky…how, with my faith (that He gave me. I didn’t get it on my own.) I can see everything else.

My friend had said that he could believe in a creator if there was any evidence.

“Now, faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

I don’t think my friend wants to see.