 Then he said to Peter, “Follow me!”
Peter turned and saw that the disciple whom Jesus loved was following them. [...] When Peter saw him, he asked, “Lord, what about him?” Jesus answered, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me.” -John 21:19b-20a, 21-22 There's this little moment at the end of the Gospel of John that gets overlooked because it comes on the tail end of a major gospel story. Jesus has risen, and he has just had a deep heart-to-heart conversation with Peter, moving toward reconciliation after Peter's denial on the night of the crucifixion. It's raw and honest (and I'm not going to say much more since I'll be teaching on it in a few weeks), and it sets a major trajectory for the story of the early church. It's beautiful. And then, as Peter is processing this fresh calling that Jesus has just given him (it's not an easy one!), he looks up and sees John walking a little ways behind them. And without thinking too much, he asks Jesus, "what about him???" Jesus seems a little bit put off by this question. He gives a quick response about the fact that Peter's and John's futures are not going to be the same, and then quickly snaps Peter's focus back, saying: "What is that to you? You must follow me!" I've been captured by that little exchange. Jesus is working on Peter's heart, but Peter quickly gets sidetracked by becoming overly concerned about someone else's journey. Jesus firmly brings him back. Listen Peter, you needing to figure everyone else out isn't helpful. Your job is to be a faithful disciple, with everything you have. So is his. And his path might look different. Don't get distracted from where I'm leading you. Disciples of Jesus must learn to hold the balance of personal faith development in the context of shared community. Without personal, daily, honest pursuit of Jesus, we won't ever grow up. And without a community to journey and serve with, we won't learn to mature and be stretched in the complexity and beauty of relationships. But too often this gets turned around to become spiritual rubbernecking. It's so easy these days to get obsessed with analyzing other people. We might do so out of curiosity, out of critique, as a personal deflection, or out of making sure that other people are getting it "right." But any of those things can make us lose sight of our own faithful discipleship, grounded in the spirit and teachings of Christ. Is it possible that "concern for others" can sometimes just be an excuse to compare and critique? In loving community, concern for one another looks like support, encouragement, compassion, and loving connection. Maybe if Peter had sat down with John after dinner and asked him, "brother, I want to hear where Jesus is leading you lately," Jesus would have encouraged him instead of chastising him. But instead, Peter is just sitting there with Jesus, wondering aloud about the other guy. Missing the point. Community gets damaged when our spirits are full of comparing or critiquing other peoples' spiritual journeys. When we obey Jesus' words of "Hey you! Follow me!", that will actually lead us toward deeper love for our neighbors. But if our conversations with Jesus sound more like, "but what about him???", we will never be available to do the internal and external work that God is calling us toward. Each of us has a personal responsibility to faithfully hear and respond to Jesus, not to do it for others. Of course, this doesn't mean that we never offer critique of anyone or anything. The point is how easy it is for us to lose track of Jesus in those moments. Also, there are those "soul friends" that God brings into our lives to create mutual growth. That's often where really good, really hard questions are asked, and it's an incredible gift. If we find ourselves without anyone like that, it's worth pursuing. So today, in our conversations with Jesus, maybe these are the questions that we ask: -Who have I been concerned with in unhelpful ways that I need to release? -How are you calling me to follow you right now, Jesus? Lord, release me from my temptation to externalize, so that I can faithfully follow you with all I am today. Peace, Keith Image Credit: Brick Testament
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 "I lift up my eyes to the mountains--
where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. " -Psalm 121:1-2 One of the most beautiful things about the Bible is how it shows the ongoing movement of God's people. They understand God's character and God's heart in new ways as the centuries go by. Their faith flexes and changes as they see more and more of God, culminating in Christ. In some of the Psalms, we see a prevailing image that reflects one of the earliest understanding of deities. Ancient near eastern "gods" were all understood to live on high mountains. Thunder was a sign of their movement and voice, and they were shrouded in mystery. Add that to the many times that God literally met Moses on mountains, and how Jerusalem is built on a giant hill, and you can understand why a lot of Hebrew terminology developed about God living "up there" on the hills and mountains. This view of the gods continued to be pervasive in Greek and Roman culture as well. But Jesus comes onto the scene to reveal that God isn't somewhere "up there." God doesn't dwell in the temple. God doesn't dwell on top of Samaritan mountains or the high hills of Jerusalem (John 4:21). God is with us everywhere in spirit and in truth, in Jesus. Our language is simply an attempt to describe an indescribable spiritual reality. God's not actually sitting up there in the sky (well, at least not more than everywhere else!). In light of all this, through all our modern years, have you noticed that this image of "looking up" has continued to persevere? Yes, we may bow our heads in prayer, but have you ever been alone with with God, and just felt drawn to lift up your face, and look "heavenward?" There's something to that. Now, more than ever, it's time to embrace the practice of "lifting our eyes up to the hills" to remember that our help comes from the Lord. The Psalmist urges his listeners to change their view... to shift their physical and spiritual posture to one that is open. We are in a world of keeping our heads down- have you noticed that? Bodies are hunched over while eyes and hearts are buried in phones. Eyes are down as people pass one another on the sidewalk and grocery stores (you cannot spread COVID through meaningful eye contact). But when we look up, our posture changes. After the eyes and head lift, the rest of our body follows. The shoulders roll back, the ribs and heart extend out. Our bodies are less tense, and more open. More open to the world around us, and more open to God's grace over whatever is on our phone or stuck on repeat in our minds. We are also more open to literally notice the hills and mountains around us and delight in God's creative goodness. We are more open to notice the people around us and delight in God's image in them, and act with mercy. And as we keep looking up and up, we are more open to call out to Jesus, so that we can be transformed toward his character of love and compassion to others. That's not a very common posture these days, is it? At the end of the day, when we are looking down, our thoughts and attitudes often revolve around the self. We are tempted to be absorbed by things much smaller than God's kingdom. When we look up, we enter into a place to receive and give. There is a newfound vulnerability. There is an opportunity to notice something fresh and new, and to trust God as we step toward it. Sometimes the simplest practices are the most helpful. Today, I encourage you to pray with your eyes up, arms out, and posture open. Ask God, and no one else, to be your hope and your rescue. Rest in the care of the creator. And when you encounter others, lift up your eyes. See in them the beauty and complexity of God's image. Be filled with compassion and kindness. I can't imagine a better descriptor when someone asks what we're like, than being known by this little image of Psalm 121. "She lifts her eyes up." Jesus, lift my eyes toward your hope. It's so easy to get distracted. Peace, Keith Today, I'm inviting you to use this time for self-reflection. This isn't written in my usual prose style, so give yourself space to read slowly and prayerfully, as we allow God to search us, know our hearts, and lead us in the way everlasting.  This is why I remind you to fan into flames the spiritual gift God gave you when I laid my hands on you. For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.
- 2 Timothy 1:6-7 “Fan into flames”, a holy task a request made that hints at a truth a truth often ignored for the task it requires. And the truth is this: the flame isn’t there yet. Only the spark is given. An ember, a coal. Hot, yet not fiery. And the task is this: to hold onto the gift, and to help it grow with breath, fan, movement… effort. How am I at fanning the gift? What exactly am I fanning? Is it the gift God gave me? What flames are the ones beginning to lick the kindling? I feel the burning, yes. But what is it that causes the flame? Because my mind is more captured by the news notifications, Than by the notification of the Good News. I love the words of John the Baptist, crying out ‘Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is near!’ ‘Produce fruit in keeping with repentance!’ But I admit, I like it more when I say it, than when it is said to me. I feel the burning, yes. But what is it that causes the flame? Because the gift will not grow through scrolling it will not grow from smug assumptions it will not grow from proving how right I am. Because the gift isn’t whatever I want it to be. The gift, the spark, the ember is the Spirit of Christ. This gift always grows into love. Into self control. Into power, but not power in the way of empire. Power in the way of the lamb who lays down its life to change the world for good. Power that is not concerned with protecting itself Nearly as much as caring for the neighbor, the widow, the orphan, the outsider. So the flame that will burn for all time in me Is not a flame that destroys, but one that softens, even the hardest metal The kind of metal that the heart can become If it’s not the Spirit of Christ that is fanned into flame. I feel the burning, yes. But what is it that causes the flame? What is the Church for whom Jesus died? What is the community that declares ‘Jesus is Lord’ (and Caesar is not)? What is it if we declare Jesus is on our side, and yet he must be disguised so well, for he is unrecognizable. The holy task is to fan into flame the gift of Jesus and his calling to be forever changed so that we see the world through the eyes of the Father. So that we will be known by our Love. Will we fan it slowly, carefully, with deep breaths taken in the Spirit, in humility, in prayer and blown upon the coals with wisdom and truth in our hearts? Will we keep finding the breath to give light to this little coal when all around us matchbooks and powder kegs are calling like sirens. I feel the burning, yes. But what is it that causes the flame? Jesus, capture our hearts. Peace, Keith  The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with your spirit, brothers and sisters. Amen. -Galatians 6:18 In February, when we moved into our new place, we saved just a bit of money from the sale of our old house so that we could buy a new couch set. We'd never purchased new couches before, so it felt exciting (I mean, as exciting as a couch purchase gets). Our dilapidated furniture had seen several homes and several decades. We were happy to replace it with a nice, sturdy, middle-of-the-road sort of set. The cushions were tight, the pillows were full. And we could tell that these would last for a really long time. The kids were excited too. "Just be gentle on the couches, please. We want them to last." PANDEMIC. Five People. Three of them with constantly renewable energy. Ten months. Do the math. Our couches have become forts. They've become beds. They've become trampolines (without permission). And they get no Sabbath rest. Our couches have aged 10 years in 10 months. The creases now remain when someone stands up. The back cushions sag a bit. The padding is a little lumpy. And I am starting to feel the structural beams that are embedded in the armrests. I've been thinking lately that I guess our couches aren't as sturdy as I thought. It's easy to look at something that's worn and decide it just isn't tough enough. But maybe I'm incorrect? Maybe the wear and tear is simply what you expect in this situation? Maybe that new(ish) couch is doing exactly what is expected, and I need to stop being disappointed and thinking that there is a problem with my kids! Whoops, I mean, myself! Whoops, I mean, my couch... Sometimes lessons come in strange ways. And today I'm seeing Christ in couch wrinkles. (Maybe folks will pay good money to come and see Christ in my couch wrinkles. Like the Jesus-face-on-grilled-cheese sort of thing?)  Today God is inviting me to sit back in wonder at how the couch is still standing after what it's been through. How it's still holding our family up! I can't believe that bad boy hasn't cracked in half yet, honestly. It's pretty amazing. Praise God!
Maybe today is the time for grace to win. Maybe all the time is the time for grace to win. So much of the journey with Jesus is becoming a grace-filled person. To let God's grace fill us when our natural inclination is to cast judgment on ourselves because we are worn down these days. And also to let God's grace pour from us toward other people in our lives... most of whom are well intentioned, trying their hardest, and simply worn out, too. This goes for those who think like you and those that don't. Truly, most people are trying their best to survive. They are feeling the creases and wrinkles in their bodies and their spirits. And what we need for each other (and ourselves) is the grace and support that God gives abundantly. One of my neighbors is a nurse bearing a crushing load... and doing it for months on end! Only by the grace of God! Another neighbor is a widow who lives on her own. She's exhausted by how long this is lasting, and it's had an impact on her.... but she is extraordinary in her perseverance! Do we see each other? Do we look with compassion and wonder at each other's strength, instead of just noticing each other's weaknesses? I know hope feels hard since the new year feels a lot like the old one right now. But inviting God's grace to really invade your life-- it will change the lens that you see reality through. This image can hit us each in different ways. Maybe you are the couch (please don't be offended), and you need to let God's grace influence how you've been thinking about yourself, because you are loved and valuable and honestly holding up pretty well given the load that you're constantly bearing! You are enough, and unrealistic expectations are killing your ability to see it. Or maybe you are hung up on the people jumping on couches. You feel the need to blame something, and it's so easy to live in an attitude of criticism these days. And today, God needs to give you a huge dose of grace for them so you don't lose your soul. Either way is ok. Either way can lead us to a reminder that getting worn down is not failure, it's expected. But God is always in the process of making old things new again. So there's hope for both of us. Jesus, we're weary and worn. Speak grace to our spirit. Peace, Keith |
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