This is the message we heard from Jesus and now declare to you: God is light, and there is no darkness in him at all.
- 1 John 1:5

I figured I'd tackle a massive issue today with a woefully inadequate and much too brief reflection. But most things worth doing are worth doing poorly so here we go.

I got two wisdom teeth removed two weeks ago. I don't want to talk about it. They had to dig into my jaw bone and I'm still sore.

It had been a long time coming. So when I set up my consult with the oral surgeon, a physician's assistant met me at the door of the waiting room, inviting me back into the exam room.

She looked at her clipboard, then gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes while speaking loudly enough for everyone in the office to enter into the conversation.
"What the hell are you doing here?? You're 42!  For wisdom teeth?? Geez, I thought some kid would be coming in with his mom. Procrastinate much???"

I immediately liked this woman.

She continued to poke fun at me for the next 15 minutes while getting my vitals checked. And with my mouth locked open, she took advantage of the chance to tell me about the ups and downs of her own life.

Then the surgeon came in. "Hey, Pastor," he said, apparently from info on my intake form. The PA just stared at me, getting a little red for what I can only assume was the first time ever.  

After telling me she couldn't believe I let her go on cussing without telling her I was a pastor (these things don't offend me) she started to tell me that 2025 had been "a real test."

"God's testing me all year long. I mean could it get any worse? Testing me, testing me. I mean, come ON, man!" She said sarcastically as she looked up to the sky, and walked out the door.

To clarify, her "Come on, man" was directed at God. As in, Can I please get a break from the unending hard situations? Why are you targeting me??

Let me tell you, faith is tough right now if you believe in a deterministic God like that.

Everything happens for a reason.
I know God has a plan, but I just can't see it.
God is in control.
God has been testing the *%&&^% out of me lately.

Statements like these, which are intended to bring us peace, can also create a worldview that brings us into tension with God when hard moments arrive. You are only left with two options. Either 1) God doesn't care or 2) God is out there actively bringing bad things your way, putting you through all sorts of pain because of some greater purpose or plan that you may never even know.

Phrases like this have become so commonplace that we rarely think about them and ask ourselves if they square up with what we know about Jesus.

The New Testament writers, despite their own unique perspectives on any number of things, agreed consistently about the central understanding of Jesus: Jesus was the fullness of God, the exact representation of his being, and the only time anyone has truly seen God for who God is. I talk about it like this: What Jesus thinks/does/says/feels is what God thinks/does/says/feels.

So, do we see Jesus testing people by sending hard situations their way?
Or do we see Jesus, each time he encounters struggle, pain, evil, and heartache, becoming a healing and restorative presence?
He heals people who are in pain. He stops storms that are terrifying people. He confronts people who are oppressing others. He feeds people that are hungry. He protects people who are being attacked (even if they are guilty of whatever sin someone is accusing them of!). He even interrupts funerals to reverse death.

So as we think about the big questions of the universe (many of which are unsolvable, admittedly) we must ask ourselves this question: How can I know what God is really like in real life? Our answer is Jesus.

I saw a study recently that talked about how Christians in current generations use the word "God" far more frequently than they use "Jesus" as they talk about their faith. One reason is that it's easier to match a generalized deity to what our assumptions of God already are, rather than being forced to think about the character of Jesus every time that we talk about God. It's harder to say, "Jesus must have a reason for all of this bad stuff happening," because we don't have examples of Jesus doing harm to people in order to make them faithful.

My heart breaks when people think they have to carry this view of God. They have been told that God is love, but God also is the one that gave their loved one cancer to teach them an important lesson. But Jesus simply doesn't reveal a God that works like that.

So this lent, as we allow ourselves to contemplate suffering and frailty, and to walk with Jesus in his suffering and let him walk with us in ours, it's a chance to keep reframing our understandings to help us trust a God who looks like Jesus.

• Instead of a phrase like "God is in control," we could say, "Nothing is beyond God's presence or care."
• Instead of "everything happens for a reason," we could remind each other that "God can bring life out of any situation."
• And instead of "God is testing me," we can honor God's character in Jesus by saying, "Jesus is compassionately with me through this."

Our questions and frustrations at evil and hardship in the world are all valid. Why there is so much evil and why God seems silent sometimes are mysteries that remain with me. But the character that we see from God on earth is consistent. Jesus is the author of all that is good. There is no darkness in the Father, the Son, or the Spirit. So we can trust that, and be imitators of that Jesus in every way we can.

I'm aware this is more nuanced and complicated than a four-minute reflection can offer, both in lived experience and in the biblical narrative. Frustration with God is part of the human experience in the Bible, and pain is certainly one of the ways that we are formed into the likeness of Jesus. But the redemptive nature that we see in God is beautiful enough to redeem our pain without being the cause of it.

Jesus, I'm so thankful that you are completely good.

Peace,
Keith

God’s grace has been given to me. So here is what I say to every one of you. Don’t think of yourself more highly than you should.
-Romans 12:3​


I was having a conversation with my 14-year-old daughter the other day. I was up a few stairs in my bedroom and she was in the kitchen. We're both fairly loud people so this is no problem for us. 

There was a little break in the conversation, and then I had heard her say something again. I heard my wife's voice too. I called down and said, "I can't hear you, what did you say?" More mumbled conversation. I called out a little louder, "Hey, I didn't hear that, say it again!"

And then, crystal clear with shockingly powerful projection, I heard: 

"DAD, YOU'RE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER"

Apparently my daughter had begun a completely new conversation after ending ours, and I didn't realize that I was inserting myself into it. 

But I have to say, that quote is sticking with me (especially after I stopped crying).
Have you ever taken time to think about the fact that you are not the main character in anyone else's life but your own? 

It's natural for us to see the world as revolving around us. Our wants, our needs, our norms, our comfort levels, and our ways of experiencing the world. To be fair, we really don't have any other frame of reference. We only experience the world through how we relate to it. And so, of course we're the main character in our own minds. 

I think the problem starts when we think we're supposed to be the main character in all the stories that we encounter. That's when we start to develop attitudes about everything that doesn't benefit us directly or fit into our own story. We can even get offended when conversations and moments unfolding around us aren't directed toward us as the primary recipient. 

I remember walking across the borderlands of Scotland, chatting with people, realizing that most folks didn't really care about the U.S. It was a reminder to me that my country wasn't the center of the world, and neither was I. Even my life would come and go, and these fine people would continue on, completely unaware. 
That can be terrifying or upsetting. Or it can be an opportunity for perspective, humility, and even joy. 

I find my daughter's reminder that I am not the main character to be very important. I think this holds particular importance right now for people like me as a white U.S. American—where having a big ego is celebrated and expected—and as a disciple of Jesus—where a primary calling of life is to think less often of ourselves at the center, so that we can learn to be other-oriented with the compassion Jesus showed us. Oil and water, friends. 

I need places where I'm not the main character. Places like earlier this week, where I was in a room where everyone was speaking another language and laughing and celebrating. Places where I can't fool myself into believing the false notion that things revolve around me or my comfort. 

Other people don't exist to serve my needs or make me comfortable. 
Jesus taught me that. 

On the contrary, I exist to serve, to understand, and to love other people. Not all of life must be a battle to be won against those who are different from me. I do not need to see everything unfamiliar as a threat. And I do not need to see everything that isn't directed toward me as a slight. You know why? Because according to my teenager, I'm not the main character in their story. 

Of course, this doesn't mean that disciples of Jesus should take a laissez-faire approach to life and what happens around us. But it also means that when we find ourselves in moments outside of our own comfort, we can choose to be led by curiosity and humility. 

We can choose to use our energy in ways that are formed more by the heart of Jesus and less by the algorithms' goals of offense or outrage.

There's beauty in learning to release the role of main character. And it extends far beyond our relationships with the outside world, into the more complicated realities of the human heart. In my interior life, I will be far healthier thinking of the grace and example of Jesus before thinking about my own priorities. As John the Baptist articulated, "He [Jesus] must become more, I must become less." That's John's way of testifying that there's an even better main character in the story than him, even in his own life. 

This week, may you practice care and curiosity. May you willingly step to the side and embrace the beauty of moments beyond your familiarity. And may you allow Jesus to take up so much space within you, that nothing is untouched by his love. 

Jesus, help me be a little less about me this week. 

Peace,
Keith