  You give glory to my Father when you produce a lot of fruit, and therefore show that you are my disciples.
-John 15:8 I had an interesting conversation with my father-in-law about grafting various fruit branches onto the same tree early this week. We both wondered aloud about what limits existed to this process. I understand that you might be able to graft two varieties of apples onto the same tree, but could you really add a cherry branch onto that? My gut says no. And then yesterday I randomly learned about Sam Van Aken, an art professor from Syracuse who has cultivated one tree.... that has 40 different types of fruit on it! I'm not joking. He cultivated a tree that produces apricots, peaches, plums, nectarines, almonds, cherries, and more. We shall call him "the fruit whisperer." The Fruit Whisperer said that it takes nearly a decade for each tree. He originally intended it be an art piece, but now enjoys all the delicious fruit as well. He grows each branch in its own tree, designs exactly which branches will hold which species, and carefully grafts branches into his central trunk as the years pass. Van Aken wanted people to notice the beauty of different blossoms blooming at different times and different colors. He planted them where people would wander upon them, pause in the middle of their normal days, and be disrupted by the unexpected sight. He wanted people to ask why, and be delighted. And in the summer, he wanted people to see that what they thought was a peach tree was also producing plums. And say, "huh!" In the New Testament, one of the primary metaphors for becoming like Jesus is "producing fruit." Fruit of a life in Jesus is shown by new characteristics emerging in our life as we experience more of the Holy Spirit. In Galatians, Paul gives a list of what he calls the "fruit" of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, self-control. That's not the only list. Conviction, humility, compassion, generosity, a listening ear-- there are many varieties of fruit of a life with Jesus. God's work in us is to keep cultivating our lives with new fruit, gently and patiently. It will take time. We may naturally produce one or two types. But a big way that God works through us is when we surprise the world with unexpected new varieties emerging. A man who is willing to be vulnerable with other guys? That's unexpected and disruptive. An exhausted parent who continues to be patient with a rambunctious kid? Beautiful fruit. Someone who has experienced deep loss but lives with joy? A person who has clear convictions and can lovingly listen and dialogue with people who disagree? What sort of uniquely cultivated life are we looking at? Our invitation from Jesus is simply to remain rooted and postured to receive the sunlight God provides. As we do so, Jesus will keep cultivating our souls to bring new fruit, year by year. Let us not assume that just because we are naturally one thing (good at patience) and not another (lacking generosity) that this is the way that we will always be. I've found that even in discipleship, we are quick to assume that we won't actually be changed in surprising ways. Remember, it's the things that we don't naturally produce that can impact the world around us the most. Nobody is shocked to find an apple tree in the orchard. But when there are pears hanging there too, people will notice that something special is going on with that tree... something "super" natural. God's fruit in our lives will lead to joy and vibrancy. But we'll also be able to share with others the supernatural ways that Jesus is cultivating our own souls over time. Our little tree will be a witness to the Kingdom of God. Don't be afraid of your own transformation, friends. It's hard. But open yourself to it. There are surprising branches to be grafted into your life. And fresh fruit will emerge. Your job is simply to remain open and available, because you have an expert Fruit Whisperer delighted to be cultivating your life each day. Jesus, keep me open to the surprising transformation you are working to bring into and out of my life. Peace, Keith
0 Comments
 She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: “You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me.”
-Genesis 16:13 ---------- I've been too pragmatic lately. So here's a change of tune. I invite you to let it speak, let it stir, let it sit. ---------- "Where have you come from, and where are you going?" The question was piercing because she could not answer it. Leaving a home that was no longer safe, carrying a child knowing it would be stolen, owned and disowned and used and abused. Deserted. So what better place for the deserted to run to than the desert? But still there was nowhere to lay her weary head, nowhere to rest her traumatized body. "Where have you come from, and where are you going?" Running. Running away. And for good reason. An impossible situation with a hopeless future. But the voice would not let her spirit evaporate in the heat. "You are not abandoned... Your child will not be nameless... The Lord has heard your misery." As if almost to say You are worthy of compassion. And she was. And she trusted. And she named God. Yes, after the famous man had gotten to name all the animals in the garden, now this forgotten woman gets to name God. El Roi. You are the God who sees me. And I have now seen you because of it. And that's how it went. And that's how it goes. This is the mystical dance of grace and presence, even millenia later. We are all of us in the tradition of Hagar. Running away from our undeserved wounds and running in shame of the ones we deserve. Unsure of what is safe or what is sacred and so aware that we are Just. So. Tired. Surrounded by pixels, people, and programs yet somehow still crouched in the desert, huddled. Invisible to the world. Yet the voice still speaks The seer still sees And we are the object of his gaze. Seen in our brokenness Called out in our isolation Invited into trust Reminded of our belovedness. And in an indulgent measure of grace, given eyes to see the one who sees us. When life's harsh words and actions wound us and lack of care and connection numb us still we are sought and still we are found drawn back to the land of the living. The God who saw then is the God who sees now Inviting us to be restored. Jesus, thank you for seeing me today. Peace, Keith  Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship.
-Romans 12:1 Remember that plague scene in Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail when they bring the wheelbarrow through town shouting "bring out yer dead!" and this one guy throws another guy on the pile, who pipes up in protest, saying he's not dead yet... The SPAMALOT musical version is even more entertaining. It's morbid, but also hilarious. And it's one of the reasons I'm thinking about living sacrifices this morning. The other reason is that my friend Nate and I spent Sunday morning discussing foundational understandings of what worship really is and if it's even relevant anymore in God's Church. Spoiler: We decided that it is indeed valuable, but we have to let it become bigger and broader than singing a few mass produced songs for 15 minutes on a Sunday. Worship involves opening ourselves up to give attention and value to God's goodness everywhere. "Worshipy" stuff like chord progressions and stirring choruses can be nice, but if we're not more expansive, we'll get bored and miss how Jesus can transform us through worship. In the Old Testament, worship was deeply connected to sacrifice. Animals and crops were burned on an altar, representing something valuable given to God. It wasn't just about sin and substitution and atonement (that was in there, but sacrifices went way beyond that). It was saying: here's what's valuable to me, and I'm going to give it to God. Hopefully that will appease God's anger, or help God forgive me, or give me rain for my wheat fields. Honestly, this really wasn't different from most other religions at the time. Ok. Fast forward through a whole lot of generations and a lot of prophetic challenges to the sacrificial system, and we find a God that is increasingly revealed to be more and more like Jesus. The prophets tell us that God isn't actually looking for a medium rare steak in order to be happy. God wants mercy instead. And then Jesus himself stands in the role of the final sacrifice and as the New Testament Church is birthed, the entire sacrificial system begins to break down once and for all. It was time to change how we see all of this. This is the back story to the Apostle Paul encouraging the early Christians to see themselves as "living sacrifices." The image can be incredibly formative if we sit with it. My friend Nate mentioned the old joke about how the problem with living sacrifices is that they keep wiggling off the altar. And that's true. But we also acknowledged the beauty of living sacrifices is that exact same reason. They get back off the altar. Instead of us giving/killing/devoting something "out there" that proves love and devotion to God, we are invited into the weekly/daily/hourly/minutely?? process of offering ourselves fully to God... and then getting back up and walking away changed. This is worship that is full of both "spirit and truth," to use the wording that Jesus once chose. Spirit because we are trusting God to receive us as we breathe deeply and say, "I am yours." Spirit because there is a dying in that moment, and a resurrection too. Spirit because rather than ending our life, we experience a new mystical rebirth. Truth because a living sacrifice doesn't just say a prayer and then go back to hating their neighbors. Truth because those moments of surrender lead to days of fresh, faithful action. Truth because the world around us will see that a life of worship leads to a life of tangible love. To choose to offer our entire lives to God is a way of life more beautiful than any single "act of worship" to God. It leads to mercy, compassion, justice, forgiveness, freedom and more. It's the path to eternal life with Jesus. I love that an hour on Sunday can be a catalyst for that for many of us. But let's wiggle off the altars so that it can happen for the other 167 hours of the week too. You're not dead yet! You're a living sacrifice! So may you be on the altar daily, knowing that little deaths lead to abundant lives. When your offer yourself to Jesus, may you find yourself infused with life and grace, rather than drained of it. And may you then wiggle off the altar, ready to love boldly, trust fully, and see clearly the Kingdom of God around you. Jesus, bring me back to life today. Peace, Keith  “Therefore, go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.
-Jesus, Matthew 28:19 This past Sunday was one of my favorite days of the year at our church. We shared a big outdoor brunch, heard stories of God's transforming love, and plunged a few disciples into the shockingly cold waters of an inflated swimming pool beside the parking lot. Brunch and baptism Sundays are the best. Jesus invited his earliest followers to begin a movement that included baptizing people into God's family (Mt. 28). And it's been going on, in all its forms, for over 2000 years. I find baptism to not just be a peculiarly beautiful action, but an ever-growing metaphor for understanding the work of Jesus in our lives. I learned something a few years ago that I mentioned Sunday, and I'm still thinking about it. Although today we hear the word baptize as a very religious word, there were other common uses of it at the time the gospels were written. Primarily, the Greek word baptizo (to dip/immerse) was a term used in textiles. When someone would make clothing, an important step in the process was coloring it. Dyes were made from a variety of plants, berries, and even animals. When the cloth was ready to take on color, it was "baptized" into the dye. When it was lifted back out of the liquid, it would bear the mark of what it had just been immersed into. Nobody would simply call it a dress anymore... they would call it a purple dress. Why? Because the mark of its baptism would be the characteristic that others would notice before anything else. "Which girl are you talking about? Oh, the one in the purple dress. Got it. I see her now." Jesus is always helping us embrace fresh understandings of what God's heart is really all about. Baptism isn't simply a faith ritual. It's a mark of a changed identity. To live a life trusting Jesus is to slowly, painfully, beautifully.... become marked by God's Spirit so deeply that it becomes the most noticeable identifier in our lives. When we are living a life immersed in Christ, it will be the easiest thing for others to see on us. Now sometimes what we hear in that statement is: Yes! Everyone should know that I'm a Christian. I'll make sure it's one of the first things they learn... by telling them that I'm a Christian. Now, certainly we should not hide that identity, and we should be prepared at any moment to give the reason for the hope that is within us. However, when we talk about being dyed with the color of Jesus, it's not about the t-shirts we wear or keeping our Bible prominently displayed in the baby seat of our shopping cart as we pick up a box of yogurt. We're talking about a way of being characterized by the sort of trust, love, and compassion that we see lived out through Jesus. It's the ability to walk through each day with hope that is beyond our circumstances. It's a life that reveals a sort of messy, imperfect reflection of a perfect love. A life dipped in Jesus will leave a remarkable stain. Over time, it will be so noticeable that people will start to notice in our lives what Paul in Galatians calls "the fruit of the spirit:" Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self Control. Now, there are plenty of days I don't exhibit that fruit, and my baptism reminds me that God's grace washes over me even then, restoring me through his Spirit again and again. On those days faithfulness totally looks like dying to my own self-centeredness... for the beauty of the better life before me. We are invited into God's newness each day. We can freely lay down our need to protect, to posture, to pretend, and to perform. We can lay down our self-obsessed nature, and just allow it.... to dye. That's what a life immersed in Jesus looks like. It looks like dying. And it looks like dye-ing. And both lead to life. My friends, Jesus is inviting you daily to plunge into the renewing depths of love and grace. This isn't actually about baptism. It's really about the life and identity that bursts with color when Jesus is the one providing it. So today, may you be so filled with the resurrecting love of God that you willingly die (dye), and come out changed forever. Jesus, mark me today for life in your beautiful Kingdom. Peace, Keith  “Woe to me!” I cried. “I am ruined! For I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.”
-Isaiah 6:5, being appropriately dramatic There's this wild drama that unfolds early in the Old Testament book of Isaiah. It's an origin story, really. God's people were in the middle of all sorts of turmoil as Assyria was growing stronger. Israel was tempted into unholy alliances with evil, and they lost their identity. They mistreated their poor, lost track of what God's heart was all about, and allowed violence and injustice to grow. It was a rough time to be alive. But someone would be called to speak a message of both challenge and hope, inviting God's people back to the covenant that they had made generations ago. He would also be the one to paint a picture of a future king in the line of David, who would bring ultimate redemption, peace, and salvation to all the nations. It was a long way off, but God was going to give this prophet a holy imagination. In the meantime though, God needed to find someone to proclaim the message. The only problem? Isaiah was just a normal guy. A product of his environment, with the same struggles as the people all around him. So when God appears to Isaiah in a vision, Isaiah completely freaks out. Appropriately so. In this vision, he sees God face to face. And since he probably knew about Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark, he knows that nobody who gets that close to God makes it out with their skin still on. So Isaiah sees this vision of God on a throne and angels all around, and he cries out, "Woe is me! I am ruined." That word for ruined is sometimes translated "I am undone!" It means that Isaiah thinks he cannot survive. He is so ashamed and aware of every gap, every sin, every mistake, in the presence of God's perfect beauty. And he feels the crushing weight of condemnation. But that's when the turning point happens. After he cries out that he is ruined, one of the angels takes a hot coal from God's altar and brings it to him, touching it to Isaiah's lips. Interestingly, Isaiah doesn't get burned. Instead, he is told that his unclean lips have been remade. "Your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for." A moment later, the voice of the Lord officially enters the narrative. "Whom shall I send, and who will go for us??" Well, obviously no one is going to volunteer for this. Except. This voice pops up from behind the altar. "Here am I. Send me!" Wait, what? Honest question. How on earth does one go from "I am ruined!" in one moment, to a "Here am I. Send me!" in the next? Who's the new guy? It's still Isaiah, but he's been transformed. That is the power of Grace, and the power of honestly encountering the God who looks like Jesus. Shame and condemnation continue to play a pivotal role in many of our lives. I am so limited. I am so imperfect. If I am fully seen, I can't survive. I don't want God, or anyone else, to see what's inside. That will ruin me. But the story of God is always surprising. God purifies. God covers shame. God surprises with open arms. This is the good news. And it highlights one of the deep realities of life: We cannot be remade without being undone. There are times in life where, if we truly want God's transformation, we have to acknowledge our deep fear, inadequacy, and guilt. We must allow ourselves to be undone, naked, and aware of all the feelings that we bury deep. And then... we allow God into our ruined-ness. And we find transformation. It comes when we are seen in all of our terrifying imperfection and told, "I see you. But you are not ruined. You are redeemed." Isaiah learned that the path to being used was the path of being emptied. No more pretenses. No more posturing. Just trust. What if we allowed ourselves to be a little more undone, trusting that Jesus is in the business remaking us with gentle grace? What if we allowed our siblings in Jesus to see us in our "ruined" moments, trusting that they will be partners in God's grace-filled commissioning? What if we had the confidence that God always uses cracked vessels, if in humility we allow the spirit to get inside? What if we embraced our ruin to be remade? Jesus, we want to be used, but we often feel broken. Redeem us and send us out in love and compassion. Peace, Keith  "Therefore, everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice like a wise man who built his house on a rock..."
Jesus, Matthew 7:24 I got my camera out for 20 minutes a few days ago for the first time in a few months. I was in my yard shooting hummingbirds, one of my favorite things to photograph. As soon as I came inside, my 12-year-old daughter started asking if she could pleeeeeeease use my camera. Admittedly, I can be a little possessive of my camera, but she can be very persistent (see Luke 18:4-5), so I eventually gave in and started encouraging her in her skills. We talked about which way the light was moving and how to hold the camera in a steady way. It made me think about discipleship, and about one of the first times she used my kit. It was in Puerto Rico in April. We were on a special trip during my sabbatical. Everyone was about ready to get to the beach. The towels were packed, breakfast was done, and each of our family members was walking out from our tiny rainforest airbnb toward the rented minivan. Then I saw a flap of a wing and a quick blur of color. And I was gone. No one really saw me grab my camera and walk around the house, but they figured out what was going on when they all got into the car and I wasn't there. Now, was this my most considerate moment as a father? It was not. But to be fair, earlier in the trip I told everyone that I reserved the right to stop for pictures of special birds at a moment's notice. Because it was my sabbatical, dang it! The family was going to have to be ok with that if they wanted a chauffeur and a credit card for all of their adventures. My adventures had wings. Ok, back to the plot. Don't miss the point by criticizing my parenting. The next morning a very similar situation happened. Although this time I was the one sitting in the car with the family ready to roll. And Sariya was the one who had gone missing. That didn't land great with the other siblings, so I went and found her about 30 yards away with my camera, chasing a bird. Me: "Honey, we need to get going." Her, slightly irritated: “Dad, now I understand. It’s way better to be the one taking the pictures than the one sitting in the car waiting.” Oh. Yes. Yes it is. And this is what it means to be a disciple. Jesus' purpose on earth was to initiate God's kingdom. He accomplished that in two ways: Through 1) his own life and atonement (disarming the powers of sin and death) and 2) creating a movement of disciples who lived out God's reconciliation and compassion in the world, empowered by the Holy Spirit. The word for "disciple" in Greek is mathetes. It means "learner," but not in a classroom way. It means an active participant, an apprentice who learns to live a life of love and faithfulness through hands on practice. This is not studying a book to ace a test in "Surfing Techniques Class." This is sitting on a board in the ocean to feel the swells of the water, wiping out gloriously, and learning a little more each time from your instructor and trying things out. I've always had a complicated relationship with the normal way of "doing church" in the United States. Outside of singing together, most models are very passive. One or two people do most of the talking, and the rest sit there. While I believe there is value in having a shared teaching and theme for a community to focus on together, we need to be very aware that this is just one piece of the journey, and should never be seen as what it means to be a Christian. If anything, it's a few minutes of rest together every week before the people of God get back into the real work of apprenticing Jesus and loving their neighbors. Let's persistently find ways to get our hands on the camera and start taking pictures. Let's work out our faith through fresh and active steps toward service, love, compassion, and connection. And let's not miss opportunities to invite people to share in seeking God's beauty and expressing God's love alongside us. By the way, the above picture was taken by my daughter this week, not by me. Where are you drawn to a more active discipleship this week? It doesn't have to be huge. We make most of our progress in life through small steps, not large jumps. Jesus, lead me into active apprenticeship with you each day, starting now. Peace, Keith  The Samaritan woman said to him [Jesus], “You are a Jew and I am a Samaritan woman. How can you ask me for a drink?” (For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.)
John 4:9 The challenge is literally as old as our Bible itself. We see someone who fits into a single category, and we then fill in all of the rest of the gaps with our assumptions. The formula goes like this: I can see that you are a (blank), so I know that means you are also (blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank blank.) All of our additional blanks, then, keep us from listening better, learning more, and forming relationships. Why look at someone with curiosity when I already know all I need to know about them? Over and over again, Jesus gives his first disciples (and us) surprising glimpses of people who would otherwise be seen as one dimensional. And it always leads to fresh connections and barriers breaking down. The woman at the well in John 4 was shocked because Jesus was a Jew, so that meant he was arrogant and standoffish around Samaritans. She also saw his gender as a huge barrier. When he spoke to her, she learned that some of her blanks were wrong. When the disciples returned, they saw the woman and made similar assumptions about her as she spoke with Jesus. Jesus helped them see that their blanks were incorrect too, as she headed back to town to share good news about Jesus. A Samaritan evangelist! I promise they weren't expecting that. Matthew was a one-dimensional tax collector until Jesus helped people see him in a new light, and it brought out the best in him. Mary Magdalene was just a wounded and troubled woman to many, until they saw her faithful heart and listened to her testimony about meeting the resurrected Jesus. There is so much more possibility to people than our categories allow for. Jesus brings it out in his stories. And because of that, Jesus teaches us to be careful about what we think we know. Bethany and I were hiking in a gorge this weekend to celebrate her birthday, along a beautiful whitewater tributary to the Susquehanna River. Two miles in, we came upon a group of 4 Amish couples. The women were dressed in prayer coverings, dresses, and without shoes. The men had plain shirts, Amish hats, and black dress shoes. And they were whitewater kayaking. I didn't know that Amish people were adventurous. Seriously. I didn't know Amish people even enjoyed recreation, to be embarrassingly honest. I didn't know much. But as I watched them laughing and hauling their kayaks over boulders past a waterfall while having lunch, I realized that I certainly thought I knew plenty about them. Why do we fill in so many gaps about people? Why do we think we completely know someone by the way they dress, or talk, or vote, or date, or whatever else we can notice from a distance? For us in the US, the next few months will bring a fresh wave of tribalism. Labels, assumptions, slogans, and sound bites will drive us into our ideological corners, promoting assumptions about all the people out there who don't look or think like us. We will be wrong, and we will not be living as disciples of Jesus if we play into that game. The problem is not in having opinions or convictions. The problem is the way we think and talk about those who don't share them. Friends, let's ask good questions. Let's assume goodness and complex humanity in the lives of people we're quick to make assumptions about. Let's not be surprised when we see a group of Amish kayakers, and let's constantly remember that Jesus reveals new layers in people that go beyond our quick assumptions. We are complicated composites of family, culture, life experience, wounds, and DNA. You know it's true for yourself. Make sure you acknowledge that it's also true for your neighbor. Keep your blanks from getting filled in too quickly, beloved. Jesus, I can only see a tiny glimpse of anyone. So lead me be gracious with the rest of them, rather than judgmental. Peace, Keith  Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me
all the days of my life, and I will live in the house of the Lord forever. -Psalm 23:6 There's a very unique event in olympic cycling called "the pursuit." Two teams of four start on opposite sides of the indoor track (the velodrome). When the race starts, both teams take off, each one trying to accelerate enough to catch up to the other team and overtake them. It's an intense race that takes only 4 minutes. Whoever is closer to the other team by the time they complete 4000 meters wins. Here's the funny thing. In this sport, hardly anyone ever catches the other team, or gets caught by them. Even though they're pursuing and a winner is declared by time, there's rarely resolution to the pursuit itself. Watching some of these races and hearing the word "pursuit" so many times made me think about a Psalm that I've been reflecting on for months. As a shepherd, David saw his relationship with God through a familiar lens. God was his shepherd, relating to him in many of the same ways that he cared for his sheep. And he wrote about it with some of the richest poetry we have in all of the scriptures. But it's the last line that I sat with again this week. Surely your goodness and unfailing love will pursue me all the days of my life. The idea of something pursuing us can be a little unnerving. And we can certainly feel that here, if our image of God is one who is angry, disappointed, or disciplinary. Who would ever want to be caught? But David is clear to say that it's God's goodness and care that are always following after him, never far off. This is not a God who is constantly frustrated with us, or a shepherd who begrudgingly heads out to corral the wandering sheep. This is the king of love, who so deeply cares for those who bear God's very image, that the Shepherd will always be chasing after them and opening doors for them to experience that love, justice, wholeness, and relationship. It's that restorative goodness that will bring them to life and make the whole world thrive. When it's God's goodness and mercy pursuing you (literally God's "steady lovingkindness"), well, that's a beautiful pursuit indeed. Much like the biking race, our life of discipleship is both an invitation to pursue God, as well the grace-filled awareness that God is pursuing us. It's a cycle. Sometimes we'll reach out and touch the goodness of God by seeking it out. And sometimes we just need to SLOW DOWN in order to let the beautiful goodness of God catch up to us. Because God is there, constantly heading in our direction, constantly ready to join us and transform us. But we often lack the ability in our stressed-out, busy minds and schedules to look back and welcome the love of our pursuer. When you think of God pursuing you, what sort of image and feeling to you get? Is it full of love and goodness and mercy? Because that's' the sort of pursuit we are invited to see in this Psalm. And it seems by the witness of Jesus and his words in the gospels, he would affirm that this is indeed the nature of God that he came to fully reveal. Jesus doesn't say "I am the shepherd" in John 10. He reminds us, "I am the good shepherd" (italics mine). God's goodness is integral in his shepherd leadership. Finally, much like the Olympic cycling pursuit... the chase never actually resolves. Even if you have moments where you sense and grasp God's goodness and mercy, there are more close behind, ready to peel back another layer of your soul and shape you in a new way for the sake of the world. Keep your eyes open; God's love and mercy will indeed be pursuing you every day for the rest of your life. You are being pursued today. But don't be concerned. If you get caught, you might just get a fresh experience of the love and goodness that you were always intended to receive. Because when God pursues you, love is always the result of the takeover. Jesus, open my eyes today to how your goodness has been chasing me, even if I haven't allowed myself to be caught. Peace, Keith  “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous."
-Jesus, Matthew 5:43-45 A few weeks ago I heard a pastor speak at a conference. He spent some time lamenting the divisions, the culture wars, and the overall disintegration of dialogue that we have in this country. He pointed out how the church is not very different than the world around us at modeling a better way. Truth. He turned our attention to words of Jesus, which is always a helpful thing to do. We reflected on the most challenging teaching of Jesus (Matthew 5), when he tells his disciples the posture that they are to have toward their enemies in order to fully express God's kingdom ideals. I must admit, I lean in every time someone brings up this passage. It's one of the most countercultural statements that Jesus makes. It's the most difficult and most remarkable action of discipleship. And these days it's so relevant, because we sure are quick to place people (and groups) on our "enemies" list. The speaker went on, "Jesus calls us pray for our enemies. We are to commit to praying for God to do a work in our enemies. LORD, do a work in our enemies! Amen? Amen." Nearly everyone nodded and said, "Amen!" I did too. It was a good encouragement. But. Most times when you hear the words of Jesus and find yourself nodding in quick and easy agreement, you need to take a moment and carefully reflect. Following Jesus is usually harder and more costly than we tend to think it will be. And in this case, there was so much nodding in the room, right after the hardest saying of Jesus. Were we missing something? The statement given was a fine encouragement, but it was incomplete. Here's why. There's a problem with hearing that Jesus says to pray for our enemies, and then praying that God changes our enemies. The risk here is that we can be praying for our enemies in word, but in reality we are just spiritualizing our conflict with them. Jesus doesn't simply say that we should pray for our enemies. He says that we should love them and pray for them. It isn't just the action of the prayer, but the posture of it that is so crucial. Of course we believe and hope that God is able to bring transformation in our enemies' lives.... just like God is able to bring transformation in ours. But it's quite possible for me to remain angry and arrogant in my posture to my enemies, all while praying for God to set them straight because they are just acting so stupid. In doing so I re-interpret the point of Jesus' words to mean: "Pray for them, so that they get fixed." But looking at the person of Jesus, that's not what he meant. Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your father in heaven. Our father's love looks like acting for the benefit of another. It looks like pushing aside our own self-importance and prioritizing the person next to us. It looks like humility and care and sacrifice. It looks like wanting goodness in our enemies' lives....even if they don't change. So my praying is intended to be an extension of that love. Jesus is inviting you into praying for goodness to fall on your enemies. He's asking you to start moving beyond the issue or conflict, and embracing them as co-humans once again. Jesus is inviting you to love them like God does. So when we do the hard thing and pray for our enemies, we don't simply pray that God sets them right. We pray that they experience the fullness and goodness of God's love and beauty and care. Here's an awkward truth: On at least some level, you are likely on someone else's "enemy list". Keep that in mind. How would you want them to pray for you? What sorts of things would you want them to ask God for, as they bring you before the King of Love? What would you desire their posture to be, when they pray for their enemy and it's you? Let that instruct your prayers as well. Jesus, may your love and goodness fall on all those whom I am tempted to put on my enemy list today. Peace, Keith  “If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them wanders away, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others on the hills and go out to search for the one that is lost?"
-Matthew 18:12 Scotland has so many sheep. There are nearly 7 million of them dotted around the landscape. There are only 5.6 million people in Scotland, so the odds are not in humanity's favor if they decide to revolt. And they frequently do, but they're not smart enough to really get organized, so they just sort of run around and it hasn't been a problem. Dogs and shepherds have been able to keep things under control so far. On my 80 mile walking pilgrimage in June, I was very excited the first time I saw a flock. Then I quickly realized that no one respects you in Scotland if you act excited to see sheep. Because they are literally everywhere. They're on mountains and in towns, fenced in and roaming free. I lost track of how many there were. And based on what I saw, I gathered the farmers did too. I didn't even see one shepherd out there. And no one, I tell you, was keeping watch over those flocks by night! But one day while walking, I passed the ruins of an old castle that had been fought over during the Scottish/English border raids 500 years ago. And right there before me stood sheep number 38. After initially wondering if this was what Scottish teenagers graffitied for fun, I came the conclusion that all the numbered sheep in this area had been marked by their shepherd. I had passed many sheep out on the hills without a name or number, but in this case, there was a spreadsheet somewhere with "sheep number 38" written on it. Someone would know and care if that sheep wandered off. It was a modern reminder of one of the foundational stories Jesus tells us about the character of God. God is a loving father-shepherd who is always looking out for his flock, ready to go chasing after them if even one of them lost their way. This is especially important because it is human (and sheep) nature to lose our way frequently. We're misled by distractions, stubbornness, sparkly things, selfishness, false posts shared on the internet, that sort of stuff. But the story is this: God's heart is one that seeks out, draws back, and restores to community (with God and one another) over and over again. We are not nameless bodies in a sea of crowded humanity, who are forgotten when we wander off. We are named and known by God, and pursued when we move out of the Shepherd's care and relationship. Spray painting these sheep was a helpful way to notice if any were missing. Perhaps Jesus would have used spray paint if it were available to him at the time? Probably unnecessary. Maybe the fact that we are created in God's image can serve as our own spray paint: a reminder that we are known and seen and belong to a caring shepherd. I don't know. But I do know that Jesus reveals God's core character, and it is a character that knows you deeply and sees you as his own. It's a character that will set out after you to help bring you back into restored relationship and not out wandering alone, where it's easy to fall into (and cause) real harm. Are there places that God has been pursuing you, inviting you back into a land of care and love? You may have to turn around a little to notice that the Shepherd is right there, out in it with you to bring you home. Are there areas where you have distanced yourself from others? Little spots where you've lost your way? I don't know why it can be so hard to admit that we lose our way regularly and need to be drawn back..... especially because Jesus tells us that the Shepherd is overjoyed, not angry, at finding and restoring the wanderer. Knowing that I'm marked and known by God (and that God knows even the hairs on my head, as Jesus says in Luke 12) is a reminder that God is always excited about reunion. Are you feeling a little alienated from God and others as you look around? It's ok. You are known, loved, and pursued. But your presence is missed in the beautiful kingdom that Jesus is shepherding us all toward. There is so much joy awaiting you in the turning. Jesus, if I have forgotten that you know me and have numbered me as your own, bring me back toward wholeness. Peace, Keith |
Archives
September 2024
|
RSS Feed