  Be still and know that I am God.
-Psalm 46:10 Years ago I did my first "cactus hike" ever. Have you ever seen a Saguaro? They're only found in one part of the world: the Sonoran Desert in northwest Mexico and the far southwest US. They are breathtaking to behold. Some grow up to 40 feet high, with thick stems and arms that extend like huge pipes. But there is more than meets the eye. Every towering saguaro tells a story. They didn’t start like that. When they took root, you weren’t born yet. After 10 years of growth, a saguaro only reaches an inch in height. A century later, at 90-100 years, it will grow its first arm. Standing in front of a saguaro is amazing. It gives you a strange sense of rootedness. You are looking at something that was alive well before you and will likely be alive after you. And it’s been rooted in place the whole time. Grounded. Consistent. The picture of stillness. We have trouble fathoming something as steady as the Saguaro. We move around a lot. Not just in where we live, though that is certainly true. We move around in our minds. We move in our emotions. We move in our priorities. Not all of this is bad. In fact, many forms of movement are a part of the growing and living experience. But there’s something compelling about the saguaro. There’s something beautiful about slow movement when the rest of the world is constantly spinning out of control. It’s consistent. In Psalm 46, the Psalmist speaks about how scary things have become. Everything is shifting sand. He writes of mountains quaking and falling into the sea. The earth is giving way. Nations are in uproar. It feels like chaos. Sound familiar? But in the midst of his head spinning back and forth, looking at everything going wrong and how scary it all is, he hears the whisper of God’s voice: "Be still and know that I am God.” The whisper is not about ignoring the world. It's about trusting God. And it is also a word of challenge to the frenetic pace of his mind. It’s about living a consistent life, rooted in faith, and walking accordingly. Being still is harder and harder. It’s hard to slow down our bodies enough to be rooted in meaningful tasks. It’s hard to be aware that God is God and we are not. It’s hard to give even a few minutes of time to prayer and move beyond interruption from our phones and surroundings and responsibilities. And it’s really hard to slow down our minds enough to be still and really become aware of what's true, and what's of value. We are in a society that bounces from one stress to another in our own lives. Then we notice the next headlines and see mountains shifting and nations in uproar. We are embedded in a world of outrage and indignation. We walk around so angry and hyped up that we can miss the daily opportunities God gives us to love each person in front of us… which is one of the clearest ways to begin healing the world. If we can’t be still and know that God is God, we will never be able to discern what is ours to do. And we certainly won’t be able to do it consistently over the long haul. It’s in the stillness that we learn to know God and receive the gift of rest and grace. It's where we truly grow arms to do good work. This week, in the moments that you feel mountains quaking in the world around you or in the world within you, take a moment to be still and know that God has given you an unshakeable kingdom of Love. That’s what we live out of, and that’s what we invite others into. That calling doesn't change, no matter what we encounter. Jesus, teach me to be still and know you. Peace, Keith
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 He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. -Colossians 1:17 Several weeks ago, when I arrived home from my trip to Turkey, I found Jesus. He was everywhere. Literally. My kids had betrayed me and allowed some of our LifePath Church friends (former friends?) to sneak into our house. But instead of taking stuff, they left things. Everywhere. You couldn’t tell at first. It started slowly: a cute little figurine on the windowsill! But they kept coming. As we unpacked, we started to find dozens and dozens of bite-sized Jesuses ("Jesi") in every place you can imagine. A one-inch Jesus was in our mixing bowl. Another was on the bookshelf. Behind the milk in the fridge. In our flower pot. Under the couch. In my coffee maker. Nowhere was safe. Mini-Jesus, everywhere. My daughter finally confessed that she knew more about this, and that there were 100 of them hidden throughout our house. After three weeks, I think we’ve now found 84 of them. Sixteen fugitives remain. I will find you, Jesus.  Actually, the fun and laughter this has caused has been a welcome reprieve from the intensity of our world. I can always use reminders about Jesus being a part of every aspect of my life. This is a pretty basic concept, but it’s crucial. We believe that Jesus is the full embodiment of God and God’s very nature. If we want to know what God is like, we look to Jesus. If we want to understand how to live and engage with our world, we look to Jesus. If we want to know the depths of God’s love, we look to Jesus. There is nothing in our lives that remains untouched by our discipleship to Jesus. No belief, no action, no relationship. If we are people who profess Jesus as Lord, then, as John wrote in his letter, “Whoever claims to live in him must live as Jesus did” (1 Jn 2:6). It’s easy for me to open the fridge and assume that Jesus isn’t there. It’s easy for me to form attitudes about people or policies or wars or money… and keep Jesus out of those spaces too. But a Jesus-centered faith will require us to do new work and ask new questions. If we are seeking to look for Jesus everywhere and walk as Jesus walked, then we will do the deep work. This past weekend, for so many heartbreaking reasons, was a chance to reflect on what Jesus teaches us about violence. Of course, that’s just one example. Looking for Jesus everywhere will lead to more. What’s the posture that I am called to have? What words would Jesus be inviting me to speak? What ways should I trust God? What ways should I act? These are the questions we work through when we believe that Jesus is all around us and wanting to shape every piece of our lives. So lately I’ve been seeking to pause and expect that Jesus could indeed be hiding behind my mixing bowl. Or wanting to be noticed as I form opinions on immigrants in Delaware. Or as I talk to my children. So if I don’t find those final 16 figurines, it’s okay. It’s good to have a hunch that Jesus is probably right here somewhere, inviting me to see life through his eyes. It’s one of the reasons I’m excited that our church is hosting a Jesus Collective Regional Event next weekend on June 27th and 28th. Jesus Collective is a network of Jesus-centered churches and leaders that I’m so thankful to be a part of. This learning opportunity is available for anyone to attend. Since many who receive this weekly reflection aren’t a part of my local church, I wanted to make sure the invitation is extended to you as well. It’s a Friday-through-Saturday conference that seeks to locate Jesus at the heart of crucial topics: What does a Jesus-centered approach to justice look like? What does a Jesus-centered approach to power look like? What does a Jesus-centered approach to disagreement look like? The answers we discover together may be different than what is often seen in our country and our churches. I’ll be one of the presenters on that third topic, telling some of my own ministry stories in dialogue with others. It’s not too late to join us in Delaware! You can learn more and register here. This week, allow yourself to invite Jesus into new places in your own life. It doesn’t need to be scary or guilt-inducing. There is grace as we navigate the way of love and compassion and truth imperfectly. But as we do so, we may be surprised to see all the good that begins to emerge in ourselves and in our relationship with the world around us. Jesus, shape every area of my life. Peace, Keith   The Lord will guide you continually, and satisfy your needs in parched places, and make your bones strong; and you shall be like a watered garden, like a spring of water, whose waters never fail.
-Isaiah 58:11 It feels this week like we’re in an odd “second spring” in Delaware. We’ve had so much rain and then periods of hot sun that all the growing things are exploding around us. Lawns are impossible to keep up with, gardens are bursting with growth (and weeds!), and all the vines in our back woods are growing two inches a day. A few days ago, I was doing a little weed-whacking on the edge of my property and reached a young pokeweed plant—nature’s version of a water balloon. My face got obliterated with something that resembled a green smoothie. It was a juicy experience. Everywhere you look is green and kind of soggy. This led me to revisit an image I used this past week in my sermon, as we reflected on Pentecost and the gift of the Holy Spirit. I introduced our church to the work of Hildegard of Bingen. She was a 12th-century Benedictine nun in Germany who challenged the status quo in virtually every way after she had a mystical encounter with God. She was a writer, a composer, a pioneer in natural medicine, and a spiritual leader who left a profound mark on Christianity in her region. She lacks the contemporary recognition she deserves. She coined a term called viriditas, which can be loosely translated as “greening power.” She believed that the Holy Spirit was present in all of life, swirling around and within us as the divine creative power of God. Just as God breathed life into the earth and into humanity in the Genesis story, we are intended to be like trees on this earth—and the Holy Spirit is the “living sap” that keeps us green, growing, and juicy. Hildegard taught that when we walk in the Spirit, doing the actions of love, peacemaking, and justice, this is the work of God keeping us green—and we would feel new and alive with God’s life flowing through us. The deepest sin, she said, is drying out. That means moving away from God’s life-giving presence and the ways that we meet God in the world. Drying out is when we stop living in love, devotion, service, and natural wonder. She saw God’s greening power flowing in two directions—one coming from God to us, and another flowing from us into the world. In the midst of weeks where there is destruction all around us, there are places in our lives and in our souls that can easily develop brown spots. We are getting dried out, and we are desperately in need of God’s greening viriditas—healing us over and over again and keeping us soft and humble and compassionate toward each other. When our world gets harder and drier, friends, we must stay soft. We must stay engaged. Last night Bethany and I sat outside in our backyard as the sun went down. We drank tea and talked about things of value. We quietly observed the rotation of the earth and the damp ground and the birdsong and the unruly vines around us, all bursting with the greening power of God. We need moments of natural and relational connection so that we don’t dry out. Staying juicy for Jesus. Some of you really got excited about that phrase and suggested that we start greeting one another on Sundays by saying, “Stay juicy, friend.” Somehow I think that might scare away our visitors, though? So we’ll just say it here. Today, may you find ways to soak in the Word of God, in the presence of God, in the beauty of God, in the creation of God, and in the hope of God… so that you stay well-watered and juicy and rooted and caring, and full of all the fruit that the Spirit brings forth in your life when you stick with Jesus. (You can look them up—there’s a list in Galatians 5:22, and they’re really important.) Jesus, keep us juicy. Amen. Peace, Keith  They admitted that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. (...) They were longing for a better country-- a heavenly one.
-Hebrews 11:13-16 I spent the second half of May traveling through Turkey, exploring locations mentioned in the New Testament and connected to the early church as it grew across Asia Minor in the shadow of the Roman Empire. The trip was fabulous—full of natural beauty; Roman, Christian, and Muslim history; wonderful food; and memorable moments for Bethany and me. I’m still processing my experiences, and I’m sure they will inform my teaching and writing in the future. I knew I’d be tired when we returned. But I don’t think I fully appreciated what the jet lag would do to me. Jet lag is the unnaturally exhausted feeling you get when transitioning between time zones. Maybe it’s just the reality of being a 42-year-old, but getting back into the U.S. and adjusting to the 7-hour time difference has been rough. When a part of me feels like it’s living in one place, but the rest of me has to live in another… it’s been like walking through mud after about 2 p.m. each day. Honestly, I thought I was stronger than this (oh pride, nice to see you again), but it’s been messing with me for nearly a week now. There’s another element, too. Upon entering the U.S. and being confronted again with our ethnocentric way of life, our busyness, and our aggressive and corrupt government, I realized that many American Jesus-followers are experiencing a kind of “spiritual jet lag.” There’s a massive exhaustion in the constant transition between the time zones of God’s kingdom and priorities, and the world we wake up to each day. Even within my own spirit, I find myself oscillating between awareness of God’s unfolding work around me… and just going through the motions of life without much examination at all. It’s tiring to feel like I’m living in this twilight, in-between space that doesn’t have a name. I’m thankful that Jesus himself embodied this tension in such a tangible way. He was fully present in a world that did not understand or accept him. He continued to live faithfully with his eyes on the Father, even when the circumstances around him could have taken all of his focus and led to despair or self-preservation. He was so deeply rooted in God’s love that he remained constant through it all. But there was exhaustion, friends. You can hear it in his voice. You can see it in his actions. Even in his faithfulness, walking in both the Spirit and the physical wore him out. “It is finished,” he finally said. This statement on the cross—full of love and forgiveness—was not just a shout of victory. It was an exhale, as Jesus received the gift of rest after bearing the weight of the world’s pain and offering a new way forward in God’s reconciliation. So if Jesus got tired living between two worlds, we’re allowed to talk about our spiritual jet lag too. Multiple times a day, I find myself moving across time zones. I don’t know what your time zones are. Mine are personal, pastoral, parental, financial, and national. Sometimes I have no idea what time it is—and all I know is that I’m tired and life feels like a blur. And it often leaves me flat. Apparently there are apps and powder mixes and all sorts of activities that are supposed to help you deal with jet lag. Maybe next time I’ll try them. But in our world, when we feel like our inner clock doesn’t match the world around us, there are some things we can do to keep walking in the circadian rhythms of the Spirit:
Jesus, meet me wherever I am today, and help me walk in your kingdom. Peace, Keith |
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