 If you’d rather listen than read, you can find this TFG on Spotify or Apple Podcasts!
"The gardener answered, ‘Sir, give it one more chance. Leave it another year, and I’ll give it special attention and plenty of fertilizer. If we get figs next year, fine. If not, then you can cut it down.’” -Luke 13:8 (Jesus telling a story) Last week I had a frustrating chat with customer service. In the early spring we planted a beautiful Bing cherry tree. Being a rather inexperienced fruit tree grower, I only learned after planting it that we needed another different type of cherry tree beside it to pollinate it, or we'd never see any fruit. Well that right there is its own incredible metaphor for relationship, but today's story is about the next step. We did some research and decided to buy a Rainier cherry tree to do the job. Since we couldn't find one locally, we had to order one online. The four-foot sapling arrived several weeks later after being shipped during a major heatwave. The unboxing was underwhelming. The sapling was dry and didn't look so great. We got it planted and watered right away. The purchase included a "failure to thrive" one-year warranty, so I knew that was an option if needed. Sure enough, over two months later, the leaves were no different than the day we planted it, except they were curling and a little brown. So this week I took a bunch of pictures and contacted customer service to get a replacement. Now I'm fully aware that the business doesn't want to replace any tree unnecessarily because it costs them profit. But at the same time the agent seemed to genuinely hear my story and want to help. She made me go out and do the "scratch test" on the bark with my fingernail, and see if there was green growth underneath. There was, and I knew that. "I know it's not dead. But I also know it's not growing like it should. Can I just replace it, please? I'm not trying to rip you off. I just want a tree that will produce fruit." She looked at it some more. "I just don't think it's time to give up on it yet," she said. "It's still got life, and this is sometimes part of the process. Let's give it a little more time and see what happens before giving up. I think it may turn around. Make sure it's well watered and that you keep mulch around it, but keep it a few inches away from the trunk." I ended the chat, significantly irritated. Seriously. Give me a replacement. I don't have the patience for things that aren't growing when you're doing all the right things to help them. Oh, crap. Jesus tells a story in Luke about a fig tree that went a few years without bearing fruit. The owner is done with wasting his time. It's time to chop it down, throw it away, and move on. But the gardener intervenes! "It's not actually dead—it's just struggling to produce! Give me one more year to work with it. I've got hope. It's not dead." And without hesitation, the owner agrees to give it one more chance. And the story ends. In the immediate context, this is a story about God's ongoing patience with Israel even when they are slow to repent and turn toward God's gift of life and relationship. But within this little story is also the larger nature of the kingdom of God. Patience and care even when fruit isn't emerging. Jesus seems to have this belief (contrary to me) that just because something is dormant and struggling, that doesn't mean it's beyond hope. I remembered that story later after my call, and I couldn't shake it. I looked up research on dormant trees and found out that many trees, when they are too dry or the weather is too severe, go dormant for months. But they eventually begin growing again, becoming healthy and fruitful. And suddenly I saw myself and my frustrations and my impatience with so many things hanging all over those brownish, curling leaves. I look around at some elements of our world and the attitudes that people have about one another, and the political landscape and the levels of stress and distraction and on and on and on.... and I feel like I'm looking at a fruitless, withering tree. I don't see any life or any hope. I can also look at people I care about and wonder why on earth growth doesn't seem to be happening. And the kicker—I can easily look at areas of my own life that aren't bearing the fruit that I desire, and be tempted to move toward despair or anger. That's what I see. But what I don't see is that real life is still there, and it can lead to good fruit. The kingdom of God is one where nothing is beyond God's redemptive reach. There is nothing in our world, and nothing within us, that God is willing to give up on. I'm realizing that I give up much more quickly than God does. On myself, on others, on the church, and on our world. So now I actually care about this stupid tree, and instead of just wanting to replace it, I actually want to really help the thing thrive and start growing. And it's true that it may die, and need to be replaced with something new. That happens in our lives too, with things that truly are not able to bear fruit. And when that time comes, that's fine. But I want to choose patience and care for as long as I am able. I want to believe in what's possible. I want to acknowledge that life is still in things that I've nearly given up on, and that God is still at work in them. And therefore, I will keep caring and cultivating too. Today, what are you ready to give up on? Who are you ready to give up on? Is God inviting a little more patience and hope and care? Is it possible that what you are seeing as dead is perhaps just a little bit dormant, and with time and care, growth will resume? Today, I want to have the faith of a gardener who knows that God can bring anything back from the brink of death. I mean, if even death isn't the ultimate barrier to God, then how much more hopeful should we be about the places in ourselves and our world that have even the slightest bit of life in them? We of little faith.... Lord, give me patience and faith that you can bring growth and goodness from things that I'm ready to give up on. Peace, Keith
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 If you’d rather listen than read, you can find this TFG on Spotify or Apple Podcasts!
“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ “But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. [...] For this son of mine was dead but is alive again! -Jesus, Luke 15:21-22, 24 Ok, watch your feet, because there could be some stepping on toes with this one. And that's ok. Challenging deeply rooted assumptions can help us grow. The other day I had a famous worship song stuck in my head, and one of the lyrics was, "I'm so unworthy, but still you love me." It led me down a path to explore and ask a theological question: What makes us worthy or unworthy of God's love? I sure hear a lot of language in the Christian church about not being worthy of God loving us. The idea behind it is that we are so messed up by sin that we're not worthy to be in God's presence. But God sort of swallows his vomit and Jesus dies to take our place and save us from the sort of torturous death we deserve, and therefore God agrees to not look at that sinful part of us anymore, and so God forgives us for who we really are and lets us be with him because of Jesus. But all the while, it's important that we remember that we're unworthy of that love, so that we stay grateful and try hard to not mess things up. Now, what I just wrote is not historic Christianity or good theology, but it is what I often hear reflected in the hearts of Christ followers from their upbringing or the way that they read the Bible. For some reason, we’re okay to say we are of infinite worth in the eyes of God, but we are not worthy of his love. What's the deal? Over the long haul, I wonder what that deeply embedded unworthiness does to our own sense of self-worth in the world? And I wonder how it shapes the way that we look at others, that we believe (theoretically, at least) are created in God's image? So I began thinking about this as a parent who loves my children deeply. I tried to imagine how it would sound to me if my kid told me that they were really grateful I loved them since they were so unworthy of my love or relationship. Woof. I think I would leap over the couch to correct them that that's not how any of this works, and try to repair such harmful thinking. Now, granted, our relationship with God as parent is a metaphor, and not a perfect parallel to human parenting. And yet... I couldn't help but think about the time that Jesus used a parenting example to explain God's character and attitude toward his imperfect children. It's one of the most important parables in the New Testament. You probably know the story. The youngest son disrespects his father, tells him to %^# off, and cashes out his inheritance early. He goes out and wastes the money and makes tons of poor decisions. Jesus wants his listeners to see this kid as the epitome of a sinful life and character. But while he's out there destroying his life, he realizes that he has messed up. He longs for what he left behind, and realizes he's harmed his father and his family. He goes back home apologizing, hoping that he'll be able to live on his dad's compound, even though he knows the chance of being a son again is gone. And his wording is exactly what we use in our modern worship songs: "I'm not worthy to be called your son." And, if it's in line with the theology that I often hear, we should expect that the father's response would, "That's true, but I love you anyway." But that's not what we get. Instead, the father completely ignores the son's mistaken idea that he's not worthy of his father's love. He just pushes right past it and says that his son is back and it's time to celebrate! The message is implicit, but it's right there: You were never unworthy of my love or my relationship. Because I love you, you are worthy. Period. You may feel unworthy, but that's not the truth of the story. Over and over, Jesus seeks to help change how people think about God. Those who believe they've fallen too far or are just too unlovable Jesus surprises with dignity and worth. Precisely because God loves them, they are worthy of love, and that is independent of their behavior. Love is the powerful tool that declares things worthy, not the other way around. So who are we going to believe—our own condemning hearts, or God's clearly stated unconditional love? I find it fascinating that even in the early church, they seemed to understand that God has made it clear that all are worthy of God's love and care, even when we might feel otherwise. Even when some of the Israelites reject the message of God's grace, the apostles say that the real problem is that they don't consider themselves worthy of eternal life! Wow. We had to speak the word of God to you first. Since you reject it and do not consider yourselves worthy of eternal life, we now turn to the Gentiles. -Paul and Barnabas in Acts 13:46 My friends, your feelings are valid, certainly. I have felt unworthy in lots of areas, regardless of if they are founded on truth or not. And that's the point. It's one thing to feel unworthy. It's another thing to contradict God when God says that we are indeed worthy of love, care, and relationship. So if I find myself singing that famous chorus the next time, I might just adjust the lyrics a little and sing, "though I feel unworthy, still you love me." Sorry, copyright laws. I'm worthy of God's love, and so are you, because God has declared it so. Jesus, help me walk through today knowing that you find me worthy of love over and over again, despite my mistakes. Peace, Keith  If you’d rather listen than read, you can find this TFG on Spotify or Apple Podcasts!
Then Jesus breathed on them and said, “Receive the Holy Spirit. -John 20:22 I'm in the middle of a season of hopping in and out. A family trip in early July followed almost immediately by a preaching engagement in Ohio this past weekend has been fun for my adventurous personality, but has left me feeling a step behind without enough work hours in the day lately. I really dislike that phrase, but I admit that I feel it sometimes. So I sat down this morning knowing that I had to "crank out" this reflection. Those were the words I actually said out loud to myself as I opened my laptop. Needless to say, it triggered a tiny little voice in my head that whispered, "I don't think that’s healthy." I'm guessing that may have been the Holy Spirit. So instead, I paused and put a set of earplugs in (not "earbuds" for music, but the sort of foam things you use when you're working with a table saw). That's what I do lately when I'm overwhelmed. I stumbled onto this practice, and I don't know exactly why it works, but it's my current spiritual discipline when I need to reset my mind and body with God. One of the things that happens when I put earplugs in is that the loudest thing in my life becomes my breath. All of a sudden, my breathing in and out becomes the primary soundtrack to my life. Everything else is muffled and muted, but my breath is crystal clear. And that does something in me. In the biblical narrative, specific language is often used to speak of living and dying. In the creation story, living things and human life do not simply become alive; they receive the breath of life, or the breath of God. That's how it's spoken of. And when people die, frequently the storytellers don't just say that someone died, either. What is written is something like, "and then Abraham breathed his last." This happens over and over again. Breath is central because it is God's gift, and it is the foundation of life. Being aware of the breath we have is acknowledging the value of our life as a gift from God. If you've been around me or our church for any amount of time, you will already know that "breath" is the same word for "spirit" in both Hebrew and Greek language. Breathing is one of those things that reconnects us to a deeper world. It reminds of us of our own spirit, and of God's Spirit in us and with us. Maybe that's why breathing exercises have become such a tool for grounding and stress management in our world. Even without knowing it, it's a reaching out to connect with God and be reminded that we have souls that are worth tending to, and not just bodies to accomplish tasks. When my earplugs are in, like they are right now, my breath awareness is a path to the essential. It reminds me of what is most foundational in life. It is a chance for me to reset my scattered senses and walk into the coming moments with an awareness of what really matters. It's a chance for God to remind me that "cranking out" a quick reflection might accomplish a task, but it won't lead to true life or deeper love. Only the breath of God can bring that. So today, I'm inviting you to breathe deeply. Be reminded of the moment that Jesus gave his spirit to his disciples by breathing on them. Be reminded of God breathing life into Adam's lungs. Be reminded that your life is worth more than what you accomplish, because you are made to be loved and to dwell in relationship with God, close enough that God's breath becomes your very own. And then, when you slow down enough to rest in that unforced rhythm of grace—then you can get back to work, with a groundedness and connection that will lead you toward purposeful living. Breathe deeply today, friends. God is with you. Life is a gift. And who you are becoming is of far more importance than what you accomplish. Jesus, thank you for moments of grounding and renewed perspective. Breathe life into my spirit today. Peace, Keith  If you’d rather listen than read, you can find this TFG on Spotify or Apple Podcasts!
So I discovered that the law’s commands, which were supposed to bring life, brought spiritual death instead. -Romans 7:10 This past Sunday I began teaching a series on the Ten Commandments. In 21 years of pastoring, this is the first time I've ever done it. The Ten Commandments have been having a cultural moment for a few decades now. Some people see them as the epitome of faithful Christian obedience. They want them plastered everywhere, recited, and legislated. Interestingly, the same sentiment is rarely held about the Beatitudes, which Jesus himself actually spoke, but I digress. The common mentality is that if everyone just followed the Ten Commandments, the world would be great. Now, honestly, I don't really disagree. There isn't one commandment among the ten that I take issue with. I think they hold both wisdom and integrity. Why, then, do I still cringe a little when I hear people talk about them as so central to Christianity? Perhaps it's that laws can be a tool for both life and death, if the character behind them is not understood. In fact, it's possible to follow all the right rules for all the wrong reasons and actually end up in a worse spot than you were before. Something that is intended to bring life... instead brings death. It brings legalism. It brings arrogance. It brings judgmentalism. It brings fear. It brings guilt. It brings exclusion. I'm absolutely fascinated that in the opening sentence that God offers his people in Exodus 20—the last thing God says before giving the first commandment, is this: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery." Notice that God doesn't start by saying: "I'm commanding you to do this stuff because I'm in charge, so don't screw it up!" Instead, God opens by saying that he is in relationship with them, and his desire is for their liberation. The Ten Commandments are the outflow of that introduction! We rarely think about commandments in ways that bring freedom. More often, we seem to act like they are meant to restrict us. And that makes sense. Eight of the ten commandments are "don't do that" commands. Perhaps that's why Jesus' approach to following commands was so surprising. When Jesus was asked about the focus of the law, he didn't respond with a restrictive one ("Don't do bad stuff!"). Instead, he said that the entire point of all of God's commands are summed up in the calling to love God and love others (Matthew 22). He constantly challenged people to understand God's character first, and then live accordingly in light of that experience of love. Perhaps that's why Paul says that without love, all of our obedience means nothing (Romans 13). And John writes that God is love, and therefore following God can never happen apart from love. When we follow the rules of God without understanding the character of God, we end up just being a very nice looking coffin, to paraphrase Jesus. We don't actually get to encounter a God who wants to set us free. We encounter a law giver who wants rule followers. And love is nowhere to be seen. But when our identity is rooted in being loved as one of God's own, we find that there is so much joy in living a life aligned with that love. It actually feels like freedom. So for the next two months, over here at my church, we'll be exploring how Jesus might approach all Ten Commandments in light of God's character of love and liberation. How would he help us live in love in all of these areas, and not simply turn our faith into a bunch of "dos and don'ts?" In your own life this week, how might you actually be liberated by trusting the commands of God? How might love redefine and enlarge your understanding of faithfulness? Jesus, help me live today in freedom and grace. Peace, Keith |
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