“We don’t have to understand a crowbar before we put it to use.
Understanding comes with use.”1
—Eugene Peterson
The sentence made me laugh. At no time in my life—as a seminary student, pastor, or professor—did I ever think about a crowbar as a metaphor for any part of the spiritual life. A crowbar, as I used it, was for the only construction skill I possess: demolition. I am not a builder, but I can take things apart. My college roommate and I once worked for ManPower on a Saturday morning, disassembling a bakery oven in a local grocery store. We became covered in flour and crumbs from its years of use. It took us almost all day, but we didn’t use a crowbar.

I first met Dr. Jim Houston over 30 years ago as a few friends and I sat together with him in a TCBY yogurt near Biola University. Dallas Willard had given us a glowing “scouting report” of Jim Houston. That night, we encountered a wise and faithful 72-year-old man who resonated with a sense of God’s creative and warm presence in the world. Around the table that evening, Dr. Houston asked each of us, “Where are you at?” When it came my turn to answer, a question emerged within me as if it had been floating to the surface for some time, and then, in that particular moment, it broke through the surface.

