 “Do not be afraid; keep on speaking, do not be silent. For I am with you...”
-Jesus to Paul, Acts 18:9 I was influenced deeply in my faith by the work of the late Dallas Willard. Willard was a scholar and philosophy professor at the University of Southern California for many years, as well as a spiritual formation writer about Christian discipleship. His work on the nature of God and helping people engage with the philosophical questions, "What is the good life?" and "Who are you going to become?" helped an entire generation move toward Jesus. Late in his life, he was interviewed by a well-known pastor during a series entitled, "Can smart people believe in God?" He was being asked about the value of doubt, and he spoke at length about the way that doubt actually opens up spaces to receive new answers and ask great questions. But it's what he finished the conversation with that is particularly interesting to me today. He was talking about the temptation to sit in permanent doubt that no longer pushes you toward growth. And he said, "Now, if you're going to be a doubter, be sure to doubt your doubts as well as your beliefs.... we're taught in our culture to think that a person who doubts is essentially smarter than a person who believes, but you can be as dumb as a cabbage and still say, 'Why....?' See, our culture is set up on that. Well, maybe not dumb as a cabbage…you’d need lips. But we want to say, 'Believe your beliefs and doubt your doubts as well as doubt your beliefs and believe your doubts.' See, you go the whole round, and you keep that going." Some of us have asked hard questions over the years. Some of us have deconstructed our faith and we're wondering what's next. Some of us aren't sure what to do with our faith when we see so many holes or don't particularly feel God very much. In contrast to certain Christian opinions, I actually think these are all healthy and necessary realities in our growth as followers of Jesus. But with that said.... Is it possible that it might be time for some of us to doubt our doubts and believe our beliefs a bit more? Perhaps God is waiting for us in a new way now that we've done the work. Maybe it's the right time to make the choice to live a day full of faith and pause our cynicism? This is on my mind because I've been teaching from the book of Acts lately. And although it's known as "The Acts of the Apostles," the truth is that it's really about the Acts of the Holy Spirit. Throughout the entire book the leaders of the early Church are listening for the Holy Spirit, going this way or that because the Spirit says they should or shouldn't. It's amazing. Every day they live in expectation that Jesus will direct them and open the right doors for their message of Good News. These are not easy messages for me to preach today. It's easier for me to look at things with a that-was-then-and-this-is-now assumption that makes me question if the Spirit is active like that anymore. I admit that many days I doubt it. But you know what I'm fairly certain of? That if I'm quietly assuming God won't speak or move throughout my day, then I definitely won't notice if the Spirit does show up. And on the flip side: If I'm living in expectation that God will show up throughout the day to bring encouragement, to strengthen me in hard moments, and to open doors for me to love others in the way of Jesus... well, if I'm looking for the Spirit, then I'm not going to miss her when she comes (or he comes. Or they come.) Those of us who are doubting people ought to doubt our doubts regularly. It might be what we need again to open us up to a God who is living and active. And when you consider your beliefs — give yourself a chance to actually believe them and see what happens. You might notice in a new way that beyond the often ugly exterior of our Christian history, there is also a through-line of faithful Christians of authentic belief. You might notice that if you live like Jesus was actually serious about all he said, that your world gets deeper internally and wider relationally at the same time, with little glimpses of God's presence and opportunity for love and connection at every corner. You might just start believing that God’s presence can change your life forever. Anyway, today's thoughts are a bit free-flowing. But beyond all the wordplay, I want to encourage you to live today expecting that Jesus is actively involved in your world: bringing strength, energy, redemption, and compassion to you, for the sake of those around you. So don't be so surprised when it happens. Be hopeful today, friends. The author of love is with you. Jesus, give me the gift of living in faith today. Peace, Keith ———————————————-- *My amazing congregation at LifePath gives me a “May Break” each year to step back from my teaching and day-to-day responsibilities for 4 Sundays. I’ll be doing a little travel, reading, and planning. So no promises on what the next weeks hold. If I do choose to write, I plan to share very simple creative thoughts. Thanks!
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 “My Father is always doing his work. He is working right up to this day. I am working too."
-Jesus, John 5:17-18 This past Sunday after our morning gathering, I traveled across town to participate in the annual "Peace Walk" that our Delaware Interfaith group holds. It's co-hosted by my friends Charanjeet (a Sikh community leader) and Cynthia (a local pastor). Our small coalition of Muslim, Brahman, Hindu, Jewish, Sikh, Christian, and other friends walked down Main Street in the light rain with a banner promoting peace and understanding across faiths and backgrounds. We waved at people, and we found someone from a different tradition than our own to walk with on the way. We formed new friendships and talked about learning to understand each other and work for a more peaceful community together. When we arrived at our destination (a church parking lot at the other end of town), we stood outside and listened to several leaders give encouragement from their own faith traditions about living out peace and understanding. Every year, a local artist creates a large chalk mural on the ground in the parking lot for us to arrive at. The design promoted unity and understanding, as a stark contrast to the violent rhetoric and regular "other-ing" that is happening so often these days. Because of the light rain, the beautiful chalk image was beginning to blur and bleed as we stood there. Even after 15 minutes, one side of the mural had become difficult to read. I stared at it and thought to myself, "what beautiful art! It's a shame it wasn't painted there permanently." That's when I realized that it must be this way. You cannot paint peace permanently onto the ground. It will always be temporary. It must be recreated year after year. Month after month. Day after day. Moment after moment. A cease-fire agreement only stands when both governments continue to resist the urge to strike each day. Our gracious attitudes toward those who are different can only counter bigotry when we continue to be in relationship across dividing lines. It is so easy to convince ourselves that when we do the work of the moment, we achieve something permanent. But that is simply not true. Our world is not static, and our work cannot be either. Our values and our actions are chalk drawings. They can absolutely be beautiful and impactful and real. Yet they must be cared for and recreated and made again each day. Our connection with God, our character formation, our discipleship, our generosity, our love for others, our ability to understand and forgive each other, and our ability to break down barriers of hatred and disconnection that harm our shared humanity... these things must be practiced again each day in order to remain real and noticeable. This is why the work of salvation is not a momentary experience, but a lifelong journey. This is why peacemaking is never ending. This is why our love and good works of last year do not free us from the work of love this year. This is why life in Christ is not a destination, but an ongoing relationship. And if I'm honest in my exhaustion? It's frustrating that peace can fade away so easily in a moment, and for the selfishness and racism and greed in our world to wash away what we long to be permanent. But it's just a reminder that our work of moving toward each other and noticing the image of God in each other is a lifestyle, not a one-off task. The art needs to be made again each day. Jesus modeled for us a life of full commitment to the love of God each minute of his life. The only time that he declared that his work was complete was when he breathed his last faithful, enemy-loving breath. The ultimate healing work of Jesus is indeed finished. But how we reflect that now in our lives is a daily art project. Thankfully, the creative spark that energizes our temporary art does not come from us alone. It comes from God. The strength to see the race to its end is given as we trust the Holy Spirit. Thank God for giving us the energy of the Spirit, because I know I'd never have the capacity otherwise. It's just too hard to keep drawing each time there's a rainstorm. So today, what lines have become faint that need to be retraced? What commitments to the love and goodness of Jesus need to be re-affirmed? What beauty is fading from the world that you can help to create once again? Friends, our labor is not in vain. God is using it to bring about a new creation. One day it will come in fullness. Today, it starts within each of us. Keep being a peacemaker, and keep letting Jesus bring peace in you. Lord, help my hands and my heart to not grow weary. Peace, Keith  May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him.
-Romans 15:13 Last week our family spent a few days in the Virginia mountains, which is one of our yearly post-Easter rhythms. One of the most wonderful things about the region is that there are always new places to explore, and new beauty to encounter. On our final day we drove down south to explore a trail we hadn't hiked in the past, that was known for its unique cliff outcroppings. Near the end of our loop, just as the sun was beginning to set, we made it to the final rocky outlook. And there, hanging right on the ledge, was a brilliant flower: a blue emerald creeping phlox. All five of us noticed it without anyone needing to point it out. There was something about its brilliance, color, and stark contrast to its barren surroundings that was impossible to ignore. As I took it in, an image emerged from my favorite allegory of the Christian journey called Hinds' Feet on High Places. It was written by a Christian mystic named Hannah Hurnard. In the story, the main character named Much Afraid goes on a journey to the High Places with the Great Shepherd, even though she walks with a limp and is terrified that she is unable to make the journey, and unworthy of love. Her journey takes her through many barren places of doubt and suffering, but each place she travels through shapes her spirit and moves her toward healing. At one point, she is journeying through an desert full of lifeless sand and rock: In all that great desert, there was not a single green thing growing, neither tree nor flower nor plant save here and there a patch of straggly gray cacti. On the last morning Much-Afraid was walking near the tents and huts of the desert dwellers, when in a lonely corner behind a wall she came upon a little golden-yellow flower, growing all alone. An old pipe was connected with a water tank. In the pipe was one tiny hole through which came an occasional drop of water. Where the drops fell one by one, there grew the little golden flower, though where the seed had come from, Much-Afraid could not imagine, for there were no birds anywhere and no other growing things. She stopped over the lonely, lovely little golden face, lifted up so hopefully and so bravely to the feeble drip, and cried out softly, “What is your name, little flower, for I never saw one like you before.” The tiny plant answered at once in a tone as golden as itself, “Behold me! My name is Acceptance-with-Joy!“ Much Afraid, taken aback at the boldness of this tiny plant, stares at this flower and considers her own journey of suffering and struggle. And the message of the flower begins to fill her with a deep hope: joy is still possible, even in the hardest moments. The Shepherd has brought her this far, and will continue to lead her toward life. So she too, decides to adopt the posture of the flower as she looks into the face of the Shepherd and as she faces the world in front of her. "Behold me! I am Acceptance-with-Joy." I've lost track of how many times I've told myself that it's hard to be a human in 2026. It's hard to be a Christian at a time when ugly things are linked to Christianity. It's hard to form meaningful friendships when life moves so fast and people are so guarded and distracted. It's hard to maintain hope when there is suffering and injustice and hatred being promoted daily by world leaders. And so many people I know right now are hurting. I doubt those realities are much different for any of you who are reading this as well. We walk through deserts in this life, without question. In this season of Easter resurrection, embracing an identity of Acceptance-with-Joy does not mean that we accept injustice or accept that nothing can change and we just have to deal. Nor does it mean God is forcing suffering on us and we just need to, like, get over it already. I think the Acceptance-with-Joy posture is an invitation for us to accept that, like Jesus said, "in this world you will have trouble," and also remember his amazing conclusion, "but take heart, I have overcome the world." There is joy in knowing that though the journey is hard, hope is still accessible. God is still good. Love is always available. And the worst thing is never the final thing. Though things feel overwhelming, love will still win out. Though the moment may be confusing, the God of the universe will never stop drawing you back into relationship. So joy is possible, even while accepting that our world is still pretty barren in many ways. Today is yet another opportunity to consider the flowers that grow on the cliff ledges. They don't have enough soil. The wind rages on them. Rain drains off almost before it can soak in. And yet, the beauty that they are able to display to the world is miraculous. So is yours, with the life-giving energy of the Spirit of Christ. Happy Easter season, friends. Jesus, form an identity in me that leads to a brave and honest joy, even when I look around me and see only desert. Peace, Keith *Photo Credit: Judah Miller  He will show you a large room upstairs, all furnished. Make preparations there.”
-Luke 22:12 I'm a hypocrite. I try not to be, but that doesn't change the fact. When I get ready for one of my longer trail races over the mountains, you should see my kitchen table the night before. My gear and nutrition are all laid out perfectly. I know what socks I'll be wearing, I fill my vest, and I premix my electrolyte fluids in advance. I think about every detail of the following day and how to have the morning go as smoothly and stress-free as possible, so that I'm fully present and ready when I get to the start line. I'm often getting up at 4 a.m., so I don't want to be scrambling. It certainly requires extra intentionality. But I know how good it feels to be walking into a focused event fully prepared and ready to go. I've already done the training for the months leading up to that point, so I don't want to miss the gift of the moment because I haven't done the little things when it’s time to begin. For how disorganized I can be sometimes, I can flip the switch completely when I decide it really matters. I know how to prepare. Why then, is it so hard to prepare my heart and mind for moments of spiritual significance? That can be a completely different matter. That's why I'm a hypocrite. Today is Holy Thursday, or Maundy Thursday, as it's been known for eight centuries (I wrote a TFG about that last year). Even though Palm Sunday has passed, today is when Holy Week begins to feel real. Tonight my community will take time to remember the meal in the upper room. Then tomorrow, the garden and the cross. Then Sunday, the great hope of resurrection. I'm intrigued by the fact that all the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke) mention the same statement before the Passion weekend begins. As Jesus and his disciples are entering the city, he tells them to go ahead and "make preparations" before the Passover celebration. Go on ahead, and prepare for what's coming. It feels like preparation was an important part of the story. It is for us today, too. But it has to go beyond the world of physical planning. Yes, I prepare services and Easter messages. That's a part of my job and my pastoral calling. And many of you are preparing family plans, food plans, and good celebration plans. But right now I want us to consider what it means to prepare the deep places within our souls, far beyond our schedule. I want to invite us to be ready for the drama of the weekend—the sorrow and hope that we are invited to travel through. Many years I'm afraid that I'm a bit of a hypocrite, acting like I haven't had time to get ready. There's almost always time to prepare if something is important enough. I invite you then, to take a moment to consider: How will you make preparations for this weekend? I'm not speaking of getting the ham out of the freezer or the eggs hidden in the yard. What will prepare your soul to sit deeply in the self-giving and redeeming love of God? Perhaps it's a choice to turn off a device (actually off) for a few hours. Perhaps it's taking space to go on a walk with God before the busy weekend. I sometimes go into my woods and hand-build a cross to slow down my mind and my body and consider costly love. I wonder how it could change your Easter if you took 30 minutes today to “make preparations.” Maybe there's a forgiveness in your life that needs to be given. Maybe you need to stop and breathe deeply of God's love. Maybe you need to read the story once more. Maybe you need to let your shoulders relax, and cry a little, letting God hold onto the crippling burdens you're carrying. Friends, walk up ahead today. Get to the upper room a little early, like the disciples did, so that you can make preparations to receive love and hope once again in your life. I know you're capable of it. I know I am too. We may just find that our experience this weekend will be far richer if we do. Jesus, don't let me miss the beauty of the story this weekend amidst all of the movement. Slow me down and soften my heart for the good news. Peace, Keith *Next week is a bit of family rest, so TFG will be back in two weeks. |
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