![]() Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone. -Colossians 4:6 We actually got snow last week, followed by a legitimate deep freeze day! In Delaware, that combination is about as rare as a three legged unicorn. Many around here reached for sleds, but a few of us actually got to grab our dusty cross country skis from the closet. For 2-3 days, we finally had a chance to gloriously glide through our local park. The nice thing about northern Delaware is that even though there are few cross country skiers, we all pretty much go the same parks when the conditions are right. That creates some wonderfully tracked trails. This is an enormous benefit to nordic skiers. Trails with set ski tracks = better skiing. It was delightful to follow those long lines in the snow for several miles. Later that day, I saw a cross country skiing related post on social media. Someone had posted a picture on one of the local hiking pages showing snowy trail with ski tracks and hiking tracks. It had a gentle announcement: Hikers take note! Many of us are loving the chance to get out and cross country ski on our trails. Normally we have to drive really far to find decent conditions. I know many people aren't familiar with these tracks since the conditions are rarely good for skiing. If you happen to see tracks like this, please try to avoid hiking on top of them because that makes it difficult and dangerous to ski when they freeze over. Up north this is a major no-no. Down here many people just don't know about ski etiquette whether it's a hiking or a ski trail. Usually there's plenty of space to walk right alongside them. Thank you! Underneath the post, a bunch of comments started popping up: "Good to know. I've never come across ski tracks before." "Didn't know that. I'm guilty! Won't happen again." "Great days to be skiing!" "You learn something new everyday!" "Might have inadvertently done that!" There were other comments too. (I mean, it IS social media.... the spawn of satan) "Well you ARE skiing on a HIKING trail." "I'm allowed to walk on public land." "As soon as I see a 'ski only' sign posted I'll be happy to find another trail." Delightful. But honestly, those comments kept getting eclipsed with other, positive responses. Keep in mind this was a hiking page, not a skiing page. Yet most folks were happy to learn and eager to respond in the same gracious tone as the original poster. I thought about the way we approach things we feel are inconsiderate or unkind. It made me come back to something I've learned about the way of Jesus. The method is the message. The way we address the people and issues we are addressing is as crucial to our integrity (and effectiveness) as the message we plan to offer. I shared this past Sunday about how Jesus instructs us not to respond to aggression with aggression, but to find other ways to transform evil and ugliness... through the power of suffering love. Paul reiterates the Jesus way during an incredible section in Romans 12. Overcome evil with good. (Note: hiking over ski tracks is not evil. Stop taking my metaphors too far). But relating to others the Jesus way includes more than just how we respond to conflict. It includes how we initiate things that could lead to conflict. That guy could have written his post like this: "What kind of idiot hiker thinks it's cool to destroy our ski tracks? Selfish a%$&#@s! Go find a snow cave to sleep in, you underdeveloped neanderthals! Have some respect." My hunch is that it wouldn't have landed quite as well, you know? There is great power in making gracious assumptions. It helps us assume the best about others' intentions as the starting point. It sets the stage for meaningful communication and mutual respect. And it keeps our integrity intact, even if others choose not to rise to that same spirit. I found it illuminating that in my example, most folks were completely unaware of how their actions impacted others. They just didn’t know. That’s the point. When we assume the worst about people's motives, we shut the door to help each other change. But when we make gracious assumptions and offer the same grace to others as God has offered to us, we may find ourselves with far less adversaries and a few new partners. Jesus, help me assume the best in others today and walk in kindness. Peace, Keith
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![]() And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus. -Philippians 4:19 Ok, I apologize for the clickbait there. But I did have a brief LSD trip early last week for almost 2 days. For us Delawareans, LSD is shorthand for the southern part of the state, otherwise known as Lower Slower Delaware. That's where the coastline is, where the wide open spaces exist, and where life moves at a different pace. If I want to get away but stay close by, just an hour south offers wildlife, natural shorelines, and quiet. It's a sacred area for me. So I headed down to a state park for an overnight prayer retreat alone last week. I spent most of my time in a tiny one room cabin. But I allowed myself a two hour field trip to a nearby beach, because I heard that a few short-eared owls had been hunting over the beach grass at dusk as they migrate. I'd never seen or photographed them before, so I was excited to take in their beauty. I got there about 90 minutes before dusk and settled in. I leaned on the hood of my car beside six other bird photographers with far superior skill and lenses to my own. With the sun at our backs for the perfect shot, we scanned the shoreline grasses as the sun sank lower, our eyes constantly moving across the field they've been hunting at for several weeks. After over an hour, it felt pretty clear that the trip was going to be a bust. There was no sign of life in this field, but still we stared. Eventually, a little frustrated, I gave up on the field and started looking around. And something happened. The moment I turned around and stopped focusing on the lack of owls was the moment that I realized just how extraordinary other surroundings were. I changed my direction, facing the sun directly. In the distance was a perched Northern Harrier, watching the sunset in a perfect silhouette. And all around me, the ocean grasses sparkled with golden light, enjoying a rare moment of stillness from the constant breeze. I contemplated them. I enjoyed them. I photographed them. And I realized that this illustrated what God had been speaking to me during these 2 days. Expectations can really get in the way of experience. It's always been a challenge in my life. Often, my expectations are the very things that limit me from receiving God's many gifts. Is this ever true for you? I’m a big expectations guy. I envision how things are supposed to go, and I can really get thrown when they don’t go according to plan. I become so disappointed when one element of my life doesn’t unfold in the way I think it should. Or if I'm making plans that I'm excited about and they have to change. Or if I'm traveling just to see owls and they aren't showing up when they are supposed to. Stupid birds. And when my expectations of life are not met, I don't always turn around to notice new moments God might be leading me towards. I struggle to scan beyond my own assumptions about how Jesus will meet me, or about what the good life really is. The times of my deepest frustration and despair are the times that I have convinced myself that things will only be ok if X Y Z happens. This is not faith. This is hubris. This is me assuming that I can always perceive how God can and will work. Oh, Keith. When you gonna learn, man? The good news according to Jesus is that God is always at work, and often in ways that we least expect. God makes oases in the desert. God brings life after what feels like death. God opens doors to hope in the midst of despair, and fulfillment in the midst of disappointment. God brings healing to traumatic wounds, and laughter to the one who thought that that their life could only feel tragic. God brings good news to the poor and peace to the stressed out. But, to put it simply, it often doesn't come where we're looking for it. Often, our plans and expectations don't happen. But the discipleship journey is walking in trust that Jesus is with us, meeting us, shaping us, and caring for us even as we walk through those situations. During my retreat, I read the stories of Jesus providing for people in ways that they never saw coming, and bringing hope and transformation in the most unexpected of moments. Those stories, and my own history with God's provision, are encouraging me to constantly look around for the love and presence of Jesus. I'm learning that it'll usually happen in unexpected situations, people, and places. But when we turn around to look for Jesus with fresh eyes of faith, it's breathtaking what we encounter. Jesus, meet me in my unmet expectations. Peace, Keith ![]() On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived. -Luke 2:21 Maybe you've moved on, but since we're still very much in the days after the birth of Jesus (do you remember that Christmas was barely 2 weeks ago???), I'm reflecting on an overlooked detail in the book of Luke. I'm thinking about the week that Jesus didn't have a name. Did you catch that Jesus wasn't named until the 8th day of his life? He was alive and kicking, obviously. But still.... he remained nameless for a week. In traditional Jewish circles this is still the case. A son's name isn't announced until the circumcision on the eighth day, and a daughter's name isn't revealed until the baby naming ceremony. Usually, no name is even spoken aloud before that time. You can find various reasons for the tradition (some are pretty profound), but no one really knows where it originated from. The oldest source material we have for this specific tradition is in the gospels. So during this unnamed week, we have a child living, breathing, and being held in the arms of Mary. In a very real sense he was still Jesus, as Mary knew from the angel's revelation to her, even before he was conceived. But he was not identified aloud as Jesus, the one who rescues. For seven days, an unidentified rescuer was in the world. All this is leading me to think about the moments that Jesus is unnamed in my life. I'm often struck by my own practical atheism. I may believe in my head that the spirit of Christ is present with me, and the promise that Jesus is with me always, even until the end of the age (Mt. 28:19). But I will go hours on many days- HOURS! without thinking about that presence or naming it. Hours without looking around and noticing God in my midst. I leave Jesus completely unnamed. I also wonder if there are moments of rescue in my own life: moments of supernatural peace during stress and heartache, moments of divine rest during exhaustion, moments of grace that eclipses guilt or shame-- and I have completely missed naming Jesus as rescuer in those moments. I'm not trying to guilt trip myself, nor am I the type that wants to just go around spiritualizing everything with high and holy language. But everything is spiritual, and even the scriptures teach me that Jesus is before everything and in him all things hold together (Col 1). So I also don't want to live without naming him, and miss the opportunity to grow in the life-giving awareness of God-with-me. In Jewish culture, naming a child is a deeply sacred moment. You are giving language to a soul. It should not be treated lightly, and it is deeply beautiful. I want to name Jesus in my own life more this year. I want to look around the world and name Jesus in the mystical moments of love and compassion that I see. I want to name Jesus in my children when I see them opening up more and more to their identity as God's beloved. I want to name Jesus so that I can give better language to what is happening in my own soul. I'm thankful that Jesus is still present with us, even when he goes unnamed in my life and yours. But this year, let's eagerly anticipate the moments to look into own lives, sense new opportunities for love and transformation, and say: I know exactly who that is. That's Jesus. Lord, help me notice your presence with me and in our world today. Peace, Keith ![]() O God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you. My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water. -Psalm 63:1 Over the holidays, Bethany and the kids and I got a bit obsessed with a show that Bethany's parents introduced us to. It's called Alone, hosted by the History Channel. Ten skilled survivalists are dropped in a certain region of the world (miles from each other) and have to survive, completely alone, for as long as they are able. When only one remains, they are notified that they've won. Each person receives a few supplies, a personal video camera, and a beacon to call for pickup. As the days go by, participants tap out for many reasons. Some of them can't catch or forage for enough food, some can't stay warm, others get injured, and others begin thinking about family and the pull toward home becomes too strong. But others find ways to last, day after day, until months go by. I am enamored with survivalist stories. I'm interested in what drives humanity, and the incredible resilience of the human body and spirit. Add in the beautiful and rugged backdrop of nature and some amazing shelter building skills, and you've got a perfectly binge-worthy show for someone like me. One profound moment in the show really moved me. In Patagonia, after several weeks of shelter building, eating barely anything, and dealing with rotten weather, the sky finally clears up for one contestant. How wonderful! But after a second day of good weather, Fowler realizes something horrible. He has built his shelter and made his home on a well protected hillside lake. Yet the spot he had chosen was at was unable to receive sunlight. The sun stayed too low and the hillside was too steep. No sun would touch his skin for weeks. This realization was devastating. “It just can’t get to me, even though it’s all around.” He stared out at the lake in silence, tears welling up in his eyes. “Some parts of this experience are just...so hard." The sunlight was close to him, yet never touching his skin. The next day, when Fowler got up, I expected him to get back to fishing and foraging, to keep himself from starving. Every ounce of energy has to be carefully conserved, every activity deeply purposeful. Instead, he announced to his camera... "I must find sunlight today." His body was weakened, and he nearly passed out as he climbed the steep mountain behind his lake, burning precious calories. But he was on a quest, to get direct access to the sun. It was crucial for his survival. Finally, exhausted and faint, Fowler reached a mountainside where the sun was just peeking over a hill. As it hit his arm and face, he just wept. It may have been the most profound moment in the show. Interestingly, he would eventually be the last one remaining that season, winning after 87 days alone in extreme wilderness-- even though he spent a whole day's energy just seeking sunlight. The beginning of the year is a time to think about what is worth spending our time on during the year ahead. It'll have its share of shaded days, without question. But if we want to survive, seeking places to receive sunlight are crucial. We will constantly be tempted to prioritize everything else. But the deepest sense of our well-being will only come if we seek direct connection to Jesus. The deepest strength to work for healing and goodness in the world will only happen if we access strength from the Spirit of God. It'll take some seeking-- real, intentional effort. Places of light and goodness can be hard to find sometimes. So can hearing God's voice. But Jesus will meet us as we seek to meet him. It's mystical. It's unexplainable. But it's every bit as important as a paycheck, a roof, or a meal. Experiencing the light of God is what gives us strength and purpose to persevere. This year, I want to invite you to truly seek the light. Choose to pursue God's goodness and presence, and see how it revitalizes and renews you. You will find new strength to love, and new opportunities to receive love. And you will know that you are genuinely...... never alone. Jesus, something changes when I seek to encounter you. Draw me into those moments in new ways this year. Amen. Peace, Keith |
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