  “If you become angry, do not let your anger lead you into sin, and do not stay angry all day.” —Ephesians 4:26 My teenage daughter doesn’t throw things in anger very often. But a little over a year ago, while on a family sabbatical trip to Puerto Rico, there was an incident. It involves a coconut. The traumatic story I am about to tell is shared with her permission. We had so much fun enjoying the island and exploring new places as a family. At one of the beaches, Sariya picked up a coconut that she found in the sand and decided she wanted to take it back to our rental house to open and enjoy. We got back to the house and found that we didn’t really have the right tools to crack open a coconut. But she found one of those bottle/can opener sticks with a blunt triangular end that you should NEVER use to carve into a coconut. Naturally, that became her tool. She tore the outside leather layer with her hands. She scraped and ripped and stabbed this thing for hours and hours and hours. Day turned to night. Night turned to day. Time became meaningless. Every time we hung out at the house, she kept at it—but to no avail. A mighty fortress, that coconut was. The joy was gone, and frustration began to build. We even told her multiple times to just give up and admit defeat. But she would not go gently into that good night. Then, while sitting inside, we heard a yell from the porch. I assumed she had finally lost a finger. But she came running inside, each hand holding a large piece of coconut! “Mom, I threw it in anger and it cracked open!” For the next few days, we enjoyed eating the sweet and smooth shavings of a freshly opened coconut. It was delicious. Anger is fascinating. Sometimes those who access it the most shouldn’t be allowed to have access to it, and the ones who push it down the most are the ones who need to give it a little bit more space to rise up in their lives. In this moment, I think God is wanting to form us in the midst of a collective, growing anger in response to systemic injustice and evil that is deeply harming others. The most vulnerable in our midst right now are being targeted in all sorts of ways. Many people I know who have worked hard all their lives have lost their jobs with the stroke of a pen and no warning. Friends are looked at with fresh suspicion simply because they don’t look like others or because they speak with an accent. And the empire is fanning these flames of hatred. It makes my blood boil. Anger can be many things: a selfish indulgence, a scapegoat, a release valve… We can do so much harm with it. Anger can burn out of control, eliminating the impact that we can have on the world by turning us into people who lack the capacity to love deeply and think clearly. We must never do this. This is sin. But sometimes it can be a warning light… or even an invitation… within our souls. Sometimes, giving voice to anger can break open something in us. And when it does, we find out what is inside, and we discover whether it will benefit others or simply harm them. This is why soul formation is so crucial in the life of a disciple of Jesus. I am afraid of my anger. I have been all my life. But there’s something holy about a certain type of anger that forces us to move and breaks open compassion in us that we couldn’t access before. It breaks open courage to speak boldly and offer our hands and feet to the work of justice when people are deprived of it. For me, I get angry when I see people being mistreated or mocked. When I see someone dismiss someone else’s real suffering just so they can maintain their own sense of comfort. But I often don’t know what to do with that anger, so I just push it down and move on, without acting differently. But then there are rare moments when my anger actually breaks open something in me that causes me to act—to make a move when I wouldn’t otherwise. The move, of course, can never be to harm. It must be to repair, to restore, and to make the world more whole. To call a representative. To open my home for hospitality. To give money away. To pray. To cry. To speak truth to power. To reach out. In order to walk this road, we must be aware of what is happening within us and why. We must learn what is cracking open, and we must always be doing the work to make sure that when the coconut does break, it’s got good fruit inside. Are you willing to be broken open? Are you doing the work in your soul so that when you do, good fruit comes out? Jesus, be with us on the hard journey of faithfulness. Peace, Keith 
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 “As a dog returns to its vomit,
so fools repeat their folly.” -Proverbs 26:11 Two weeks ago, a climber in Japan was airlifted from Mount Fuji after climbing a steep trail, experiencing altitude sickness, and becoming unresponsive. I’m so glad the rescue team was able to get him out. But the story isn’t over. Four days later, there had to be another rescue. Two rescues in one week is big news. Except—guess who the second guy they rescued was? IT WAS THE SAME GUY. He went back to get his phone. Because, you know… the whole life-threatening altitude sickness episode was definitely not going to happen again. Oh wait. Huh. Who would have thought that when you don’t change anything, you get the same result as before? Everyone, buddy. Everyone. Part of me wants to just rail against our insane obsession with material things, and how this man risked his life to go back and grab a replaceable piece of metal. But that makes me sound grumpy. I could rail against addictions to materials and technology. But I don't want to be grumpy. So instead, I’m thinking about how this situation speaks to our lives of faith. We have a formation problem. We’re climbing up the same mountain over and over again, and we’re not learning anything each time. We’re not changing anything in order to live out God’s kingdom more faithfully. Discipleship is the process of being formed in the way of Jesus. But often we simply expect that if we’re Christian long enough, we’ll eventually get different results—even when we don’t actually change any habits or mindsets. And we’re surprised when the same relational problems, fights, internal struggles, and despairs keep showing up over and over again. (This happens on a large scale too- like when Christians believe that giving their allegiance to worldly systems of power will help bring God's kingdom. It hasn't worked for thousands of years. And it's definitely not working now). Back to our lives. Now certainly, struggles are a part of being human. Anxieties creep up throughout our lives, struggles and temptations ebb and flow, and like the Apostle Paul said, there will be times when we do the very thing we don’t want to do. But we can take that too far. We are given wisdom and power to walk with fresh formation as we learn the way of Jesus. The work of the Spirit in us isn’t magic. It doesn’t just happen. It’s a divine partnership with our willingness to humbly and courageously invite Jesus to help us live in step with his character and values. Most of us have seen this in personal experience. We’ve seen how Christians (sometimes ourselves!) can go to church and read the Bible for decades, yet remain just as judgmental or angry as ever. We’ve seen how so many (ourselves included!) continue in the same cycles of broken relationships, defensiveness, or harmful arrogance in relating to others. This is static Christianity, and it is not discipleship. Jesus has something better for us. But it requires a shift after we see that something “hasn’t worked.” The first step is humility—humility to stop thinking that we’re experts at life (and just “got unlucky” the last time we really made a mess of things). The second is courage—but not simply courage to “try again” and hope for a better outcome. Rather, it’s courage to ask Jesus how we can actually do things differently next time, with greater wisdom, love, and maturity. We can’t change others. But we can change ourselves, by God’s grace. What if you paused, trusted Jesus, and tried something different this week:
If our altitude sickness pal had gone back four days later with two friends and an oxygen tank, moving more slowly and checking in with others… now that would have been a humble and courageous step of formation—rather than a costly exercise in arrogance. Without humility and courage, we’ll keep ending up in the same predicaments we’ve always been in—constantly expecting things to turn out differently without actually doing anything new. With God’s help, we can learn. And we can grow. Jesus, help me walk in wisdom and in newness. Peace, Keith  “As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him…
When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him…” —Luke 24:13–16, 30–31 Last week, I had the opportunity to enjoy some beautiful walks with my wife and teenage kids. We were in the Virginia mountains for a few days after Easter. We hiked up rocky ledges filled with boulders, walked along waterfalls (80% of us jumped in!), and ate snacks along rock outcroppings. It was meaningful time; many conversations took place that otherwise wouldn't have. There’s something that happens when you walk alongside others. Devices aren’t central. Tasks and distractions are minimal. And connection opens up in fresh ways. During our brunch church gathering this past Sunday, we read the Emmaus road passage from Luke's gospel, and reflected a bit on why walking together and eating together were foundational in this story. There’s no denying that sharing an experience opens us up to new connections we might not otherwise find. I find it fascinating that Jesus doesn’t meet the Emmaus road disciples in the morning while they’re praying, or when they pause for a short rest and a drink of water. Rather, he joins them on their walk — just “walking along with them.” We don’t do enough walking together and eating together lately. But those are often the places in life where Jesus shows up. A few weeks ago, I was involved in a peace walk sponsored by my interfaith clergy group. For 20 minutes, I walked alongside my new friend Hayat, a dynamic Muslim peacemaker. She leads a community center that brings people from different backgrounds together in service. We had a wonderful conversation about the need for understanding and compassion across cultural and societal divides. On our walk, we spoke of the beauty of telling and listening to each other’s stories, and how sacred moments emerge as we serve, walk, and eat together — especially with people we assume are completely different from us. The disciples in Luke 24 would later say that, while Jesus was walking with them and explaining the good news, their “hearts were burning within them.” That’s often how I feel when meaningful connection happens — on a walk or over a meal. I begin to sense Jesus opening my eyes again. It’s how I feel when I go on a hike with my family or a walk with a friend. It seems like Jesus shows up among us and opens new doors for us to be changed along the way. And these days, I think that especially happens when we find ways to walk alongside others we might not normally find ourselves walking beside. Let’s be unafraid to invite people to go for a walk in this Easter season. Let’s ask for eyes to see Jesus along the way as we do — and be filled with the good news that God is alive and drawing people together in hope and goodness. "Walking" can take many forms for us. It could look like a coffee meeting, a stroll, sitting at a park, or even a playdate with another parent. Perhaps you can go for a walk today. Who can you invite along with you? I wouldn't be surprised if Jesus shows up, too. Lord, keep appearing to me in surprising ways as I share life with others. Peace, Keith |
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