During my sabbatical I began the practice of nature journaling. According to the naturalist and artist John Muir Laws, “In the practice of nature journaling, you use words, pictures, and numbers to collect and record your observations, questions, connections, and explanations on the pages of a notebook.” A year or two ago, my mom gave me a small sketch book and some colored pencils which I occasionally took off my shelf, but this summer provided the time to jump in more fully.

Depending on where our family was, I might have sketched a stand of pine trees in the Black Hills, a lily pad floating on Lake Bryan in Michigan, a house sparrow sharing my patio table at one of my favorite Chicago coffee shops, a green turtle sunning on a black sand beach in Hawaii, or a wheel bug perched on the roof of our car. And birds of course, lots of birds.

As I mentioned in the last newsletter, I’ve recently been thinking about attention – what I give my attention to, what distracts my attention, what sustained attention reveals – and nature journaling has been a good way to practice paying attention. By trying to sketch, for example, the tall bellflower in our garden, I notice how shallow my initial observations are. It’s only after trying to capture on paper, however simply, what I’m observing that it becomes clear how much I had missed.

So, nature journaling has been an avenue to attention but it’s also reintroduced me to the joys of amateurism. In many of his videos, Laws reassures his students that the goal of sketching in the field is never perfection; success comes simply from putting pencil or pen to paper and capturing what you see. At some point early on I decided to believe him and have felt almost none of the embarrassment that has typically accompanied my attempts at art.

My sketches are unimpressive. While they remind me of certain places and moments, I wouldn’t expect anyone else to find them useful in identifying particular species of birds or flowers. Proportions are often wrong and my instincts about shadows are not to be trusted. The other day I attempted quick drawings of ring-billed gulls on a jetty and they mostly look like lumpy pigeons.

Describing writing, Annie Dillard wrote that the “line of words is a miner’s pick, a wood-carver’s gouge, a surgeon’s probe. You willed it, and it digs a path you follow. Soon you find yourself deep in new territory. Is it a dead end, or have you located the real subject? You will know tomorrow, or this time next year.” It’s that uncertainty, that willingness to be OK not knowing how the thing will turn out, which I feel each time I attempt a new sketch. Will it look even a little bit like the thing that has captured my attention? Unlike writing, I’ll know a lot sooner than tomorrow or next year.

When it comes to nature journaling, I am, by every possible measure, an amateur. There is far more about observing and sketching that I don’t know that what I have learned. I am far from being able to accomplish the thing I’m attempting.

Maybe you don’t feel this, but I notice in myself a pressure to be good at the things that typically fill my days. This mostly involves my work responsibilities but the need to be proficient can extend to recreation and leisure too. It felt good the other night when a friend walked onto our back porch and immediately grabbed his phone to take some photos of our hanging baskets of flowers and the bunches of raspberries and greens along the back fence. I liked his assumption that I know what I’m doing in our little garden even though my expertise is mostly limited to watering everything regularly.

But it’s in my work that I especially feel the need to be proficient. I’m on the other side of two decades of pastoral ministry; surely there are some things I ought to be accomplished at by now! Thankfully we do get better at the stuff we keep working at. I can, for instance, prepare a sermon more quickly and with less anxiety than I could ten years ago. But am I a preaching expert? Not by a long shot.

In addition to simply enjoying the amateurish joys of nature journaling, my little sketches have been a reminder of the freedom and creativity which opens when I can let go of the need to be an expert in the other areas of my life. Consider again my preaching responsibilities. About ten years ago I took a class that helped me feel much less wobbly each week as I prepared a sermon. Since then I’ve had the chance to share what I’ve learned with other preachers in our church. But each time I do I’ve stumbled into some preaching skill that I’ve barely considered. Another chance to be an amateur!

A few years ago I began to notice that most of my sermons ended rather quietly, when an emphasis on personal reflection. There’s nothing wrong with this; it’s still one of the ways I’ll regularly conclude a message. But I recognized that many of my pastor friends had another tool in their toolbox: corporate celebration. And while my typical conclusion of choice was a good fit for certain cultural backgrounds, it tended to overlook those formed in more collective and expressive settings. I realized that I was going to need to grow in my ability to invite the congregation to celebrate together God’s faithfulness during my preaching.

Learning – slowly! – how to include celebration in my preaching has been a little like nature journaling. In both cases I’ve been able to observe what competent people – preachers and naturalists – are able to do as a result of a lot of practice even while my own attempts are but faint echoes of their skillfulness. Thankfully our church has been gracious as I’ve repeatedly embraced my amateur status, whether in preaching or other ones of my pastoral responsibilities.

I hope my willingness to be a novice in public has been an invitation for others to do the same.

Preaching Cohort

Speaking of preaching, I’m facilitating another 9-month, monthly preaching cohort with the Wheaton College Billy Graham Center’s Preaching Institute. This time around I’ll be joined by friend Dr. Charlie Dates a few times as we explore how to include themes of justice in our preaching. If you or a preacher you know would enjoy the encouragement that comes from this sort of learning environment, you can visit the website for registration and more information.