Walk Humbly

Walk Humbly

Micah 6:6-8

So, over the past few weeks, I have been exploring specific things we do that have spiritual power:  practicing hospitality and being intentional about how we breathe.  My premise is that the world is full of God’s presence.  That presence, though, is always mediated through the people and the world around us that we experience in everyday life.  If this is true, then we have to ask ourselves, why we don’t experience this presence more often.  My answer is that we do things that block us from experiencing God in our everyday lives.  So, if one of the main ways that God might become apparent to us is through the people around us and we live in such a way that others are overlooked or treated as suspects, we will not see God in and through them.  Or, if we are in a constant state of “flight/fight” because we aren’t managing our breathing in a way that grounds us, we will simply not be available to God.  I have to be open to the world around me.  I have to be grounded and present in my own skin.

This morning, I want to add a third thing to practice:  walking.  Next to breathing, this might be one of the things that we have done most in our lives.  Still, I think it is easy to think that just because I’m able to walk from point “a” to point “b” we’ve got the whole walking thing down.  This morning, I want you to reconsider that understanding…

So, if you’ve ever been around an infant who is learning how to walk, you know how precarious and daring those efforts can be.  I remember my girls being shocked when they took their first steps and then lighting up with joy when they realized that whole new sense of agency.  I remember as a parent being thrilled when our oldest first walked (which rather quickly turned into marching around the living room to the “Barney’ theme song.) By the time child number two started walking, I really kind of wanted to hold her off longer and enjoy the immobile days a little more.  (There was something wonderful about a child who you put somewhere who would remain there until you put them somewhere else!)

Of course, both girls did learn to walk and both paid their dues in terms of lumps and bumps and bruises.  Still, though, it was such an empowering moment for each of them:  “I don’t want to go there.  I want to go here.  Just try to catch me!). That walking was all about independence, except for those lovely moments when they would reach out and take you by the finger and steady themselves.

The secret to human beings is that we were built to move.  For eons, that’s what we did.  As early as our parents could, in ancient times, they would put us to work in the fields or set us about the business of herding up animals.  Until fairly recently in human history, for the rest of our lives, we would move:  to gather good, to collect firewood, to hunt down those farm animals, to go to a store.  There were no cars, just a horse to saddle up if you were lucky.  If you wanted to get anywhere or do anything, you had to walk to get there.  Life expectancies may not have reflected what a healthy thing this was for us because we didn’t have much in the way of medical care and diseases ran rampant.  

I think if you gathered a group of human beings from across human history and showed them what most of us do all day long, they would be appalled:  “How can you just sit there all day?  I know you’re looking at that little box that you call a phone and at the bigger box that you call a t.v.  I know that you have another box called a computer.  Still, though…don’t you just want to move?  Don’t you get sore just sitting there?”  I remember during the pandemic reading an article that declared, “Sitting is the new smoking.”  In that spirit, I think our ancestors would look at us and ask, “What’s wrong with you?”

Of course, like any other exercise we might take on, it would be hard to change our habits because at first, there would likely be nothing but frustration and pain:  “I know that you say this will make me feel better but, honestly, all I am, so far, is sore!”  Certainly, some people’s mobility is limited by chronic pain and other medical conditions.  However, what if a percentage of the stiffness and aches that we feel are actually there to ask us, “Can we finally move?”

Let me be super clear here.  I don’t think the issue is that we all need to join a gym and hire a personal trainer.  I don’t think that we need to go from 0 to 100, either.  Even a little more movement, consistently, over the course of a few weeks will lead most people to pause and realize, “Gosh, I actually feel better.”  In fact, for most of us, the challenge is to be careful about trying to do too much, too soon and ending up injured.  The question isn’t, “Can I still make the Olympics?”  The question is, “Can I get in the habit of taking a walk?  Can that just become a part of my routine?”

(If you want a fun way to experiment with this, try habitually choosing parking places that are far from the store that you’re visiting.  Parking lots aren’t that big.  What if this was a really simple way to increase your steps in a day?  What if this saved you from ever getting your car dinged by a runaway grocery cart?  There are no carts and no people when you’re parked in the sticks!)

Here’s the thing for me.  I don’t think you should do this to lose weight or drop your cholesterol.  You might…but that’s not the point.  I think you should do this because moving is what you were built to do.  Your body will work better.  Your mind will grow more sharp.  Your attitude will rise on a tide of endorphin rewards.  You’ll ache less, over time.  You will be physically tired when you go to bed and…miracle of all miracles…you will fall asleep.

Having said all of that, the biggest benefit of all may not be a health benefit, at all—other than your mental health.  When we stand up from our favorite chair or place on the couch, when we turn the t.v. off and head outside, no matter what we were preoccupied with before, our attention will move to the world around us.  We will meet people whom we otherwise would not have met.  We will run into old friends.  We will begin to know the names of dogs and children who live around us.  We will notice that little black snake, sunning itself on the path and the baby rabbit who loves to taunt our dog and the deer that is frozen in place just into the woods, praying that we won’t notice them.  We will see clouds that look like all sorts of things.  We will be entranced by the circling flight of a red tailed hawk overhead.  In an almost magical way, we will return home refreshed.

Like breathing differently—consciously, and slowly, and fully—walking is a choice available for any of us to make.  We don’t need a license or permission.  We don’t need a uniform or special shoes.  We don’t have to take a class first.  All we have to do is get started. We just need to go find our where our feet are going to take us, today.

Maybe your body is still in a place to run.  Great!  Maybe you’d rather ride a bike.  Awesome!  Maybe you want to take an exercise class.  Fantastic!  The only thing that matters, I think, is that you spend some time honoring God’s gift of life by taking care of the body that God gave us.  Life is better when we move.

Seriously…As a pastor, I’ve had the privilege of knowing some people who really aged well.  When I ask myself, “What’s their secret,” here’s what I notice.  They stay intellectually alive by reading things and discussing things with others.  They maintain an interest in the present, particularly by having younger friends who can help them stay connected to what’s going on in the larger world.  Last but not least, though, they exercise.  They move—every day.  (Do you remember Margaret Reuter?  A week before she died—in her nineties—she had just bought a new swimming suit. She loved to swim!)

I remember a woman in Lake Forest, years ago.  She was the first person I noticed who was a big walker.  Over time, I kept seeing her—walking to the grocery store or walking to church or walking to the library.  She walked year round, too.  In fact, I can’t recall ever seeing her driving a car.  What I also noticed over time was how young and sharp she stayed.  

Again, the point here isn’t physical fitness.  The point, this morning, is spiritual well-being.  When we walk, we see beautiful things like sunrises and sunsets and wildflowers.  When we walk, the world gets bigger than just the space in our living rooms.  When we walk, space gets cleared inside of us to the point that sometimes, we hear that still small voice of God whispering to us about the person we should call.  Or, most shockingly, we hear our own voice, deep inside, sounding an awful lot like a prayer.

Walking humbles us and enlightens us and refreshes us.  Walking helps us to get the rhythm of our footsteps and the rhythm of our heartbeats in synch.  Walking helps us to feel whole and when we feel whole, we are sometimes able to see today’s problems in a whole new light.

I often feel like a kindred spirit with the prophet, Micah.  He lived in incredibly complicated times in which the church, itself, was losing it’s way.  As has often been the case, the church’s spiritual mission had been usurped by it’s fundraising needs.  If you wanted to get right with God, you needed to pay a priest and pay for sacrificial animals.  Over time, you needed to pay more and more.

Micah reached that point that we all have reached:  “Hold it!  Boil it down.  Forget all that other stuff.  What really matters here?”  His answer is lovely, and enduring, and timeless:  If you want to know what matters, here it is—do justice, act with kindness and compassion, walk humbly with God.

That humble walk?  It’s what happens when the point of our walk isn’t to go stew about something or cover as much ground as fast as we possible can.  It’s what happens when we walk and we realize that God has been walking with us the whole time, present like an old friend, and patient like a loving parent.