On the eighth day, when it was time to circumcise the child, he was named Jesus, the name the angel had given him before he was conceived. -Luke 2:21 Maybe you've moved on, but since we're still very much in the days after the birth of Jesus (do you remember that Christmas was barely 2 weeks ago???), I'm reflecting on an overlooked detail in the book of Luke. I'm thinking about the week that Jesus didn't have a name. Did you catch that Jesus wasn't named until the 8th day of his life? He was alive and kicking, obviously. But still.... he remained nameless for a week. In traditional Jewish circles this is still the case. A son's name isn't announced until the circumcision on the eighth day, and a daughter's name isn't revealed until the baby naming ceremony. Usually, no name is even spoken aloud before that time. You can find various reasons for the tradition (some are pretty profound), but no one really knows where it originated from. The oldest source material we have for this specific tradition is in the gospels. So during this unnamed week, we have a child living, breathing, and being held in the arms of Mary. In a very real sense he was still Jesus, as Mary knew from the angel's revelation to her, even before he was conceived. But he was not identified aloud as Jesus, the one who rescues. For seven days, an unidentified rescuer was in the world. All this is leading me to think about the moments that Jesus is unnamed in my life. I'm often struck by my own practical atheism. I may believe in my head that the spirit of Christ is present with me, and the promise that Jesus is with me always, even until the end of the age (Mt. 28:19). But I will go hours on many days- HOURS! without thinking about that presence or naming it. Hours without looking around and noticing God in my midst. I leave Jesus completely unnamed. I also wonder if there are moments of rescue in my own life: moments of supernatural peace during stress and heartache, moments of divine rest during exhaustion, moments of grace that eclipses guilt or shame-- and I have completely missed naming Jesus as rescuer in those moments. I'm not trying to guilt trip myself, nor am I the type that wants to just go around spiritualizing everything with high and holy language. But everything is spiritual, and even the scriptures teach me that Jesus is before everything and in him all things hold together (Col 1). So I also don't want to live without naming him, and miss the opportunity to grow in the life-giving awareness of God-with-me. In Jewish culture, naming a child is a deeply sacred moment. You are giving language to a soul. It should not be treated lightly, and it is deeply beautiful. I want to name Jesus in my own life more this year. I want to look around the world and name Jesus in the mystical moments of love and compassion that I see. I want to name Jesus in my children when I see them opening up more and more to their identity as God's beloved. I want to name Jesus so that I can give better language to what is happening in my own soul. I'm thankful that Jesus is still present with us, even when he goes unnamed in my life and yours. But this year, let's eagerly anticipate the moments to look into own lives, sense new opportunities for love and transformation, and say: I know exactly who that is. That's Jesus. Lord, help me notice your presence with me and in our world today. Peace, Keith
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O God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you. My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water. -Psalm 63:1 Over the holidays, Bethany and the kids and I got a bit obsessed with a show that Bethany's parents introduced us to. It's called Alone, hosted by the History Channel. Ten skilled survivalists are dropped in a certain region of the world (miles from each other) and have to survive, completely alone, for as long as they are able. When only one remains, they are notified that they've won. Each person receives a few supplies, a personal video camera, and a beacon to call for pickup. As the days go by, participants tap out for many reasons. Some of them can't catch or forage for enough food, some can't stay warm, others get injured, and others begin thinking about family and the pull toward home becomes too strong. But others find ways to last, day after day, until months go by. I am enamored with survivalist stories. I'm interested in what drives humanity, and the incredible resilience of the human body and spirit. Add in the beautiful and rugged backdrop of nature and some amazing shelter building skills, and you've got a perfectly binge-worthy show for someone like me. One profound moment in the show really moved me. In Patagonia, after several weeks of shelter building, eating barely anything, and dealing with rotten weather, the sky finally clears up for one contestant. How wonderful! But after a second day of good weather, Fowler realizes something horrible. He has built his shelter and made his home on a well protected hillside lake. Yet the spot he had chosen was at was unable to receive sunlight. The sun stayed too low and the hillside was too steep. No sun would touch his skin for weeks. This realization was devastating. “It just can’t get to me, even though it’s all around.” He stared out at the lake in silence, tears welling up in his eyes. “Some parts of this experience are just...so hard." The sunlight was close to him, yet never touching his skin. The next day, when Fowler got up, I expected him to get back to fishing and foraging, to keep himself from starving. Every ounce of energy has to be carefully conserved, every activity deeply purposeful. Instead, he announced to his camera... "I must find sunlight today." His body was weakened, and he nearly passed out as he climbed the steep mountain behind his lake, burning precious calories. But he was on a quest, to get direct access to the sun. It was crucial for his survival. Finally, exhausted and faint, Fowler reached a mountainside where the sun was just peeking over a hill. As it hit his arm and face, he just wept. It may have been the most profound moment in the show. Interestingly, he would eventually be the last one remaining that season, winning after 87 days alone in extreme wilderness-- even though he spent a whole day's energy just seeking sunlight. The beginning of the year is a time to think about what is worth spending our time on during the year ahead. It'll have its share of shaded days, without question. But if we want to survive, seeking places to receive sunlight are crucial. We will constantly be tempted to prioritize everything else. But the deepest sense of our well-being will only come if we seek direct connection to Jesus. The deepest strength to work for healing and goodness in the world will only happen if we access strength from the Spirit of God. It'll take some seeking-- real, intentional effort. Places of light and goodness can be hard to find sometimes. So can hearing God's voice. But Jesus will meet us as we seek to meet him. It's mystical. It's unexplainable. But it's every bit as important as a paycheck, a roof, or a meal. Experiencing the light of God is what gives us strength and purpose to persevere. This year, I want to invite you to truly seek the light. Choose to pursue God's goodness and presence, and see how it revitalizes and renews you. You will find new strength to love, and new opportunities to receive love. And you will know that you are genuinely...... never alone. Jesus, something changes when I seek to encounter you. Draw me into those moments in new ways this year. Amen. Peace, Keith ...and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. -Isaiah 9:6 The messengers lit up the night sky in front of the shepherds, and they proclaimed: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward humankind.” What a vision for the world! God reigns, and peace and goodness come as a result. It’s ok if you don’t believe that sometimes. Advent is the season of looking up and looking out again, even if it’s into a dark night sky. It’s a chance to renew our hope in a God who has come to make the world right. And making the world right is the core concept of this year’s theme. Peace, or Shalom, is a robust word in the Bible. Shalom means that wholeness is present. It means that what has been broken is being healed. It means that things are right. And things desperately need to be made right. In our hearts, our minds, our relationships, and our societies. --------------------------- The above paragraphs are from my introduction toLifePath's 2023 Advent booklet. Every year we gather submissions from across our church family, as we reflect together on our theme. This year, the theme is Moving Toward Peace. People have written stories, scriptural reflections, poetry, and insights for us all to experience together each day of Advent, which started on Sunday. They are honest and eclectic perspectives on peace, borne out of honest wrestling with Jesus. And every year I pause my Together for Good weekly writings to amplify other voices of encouragement. If you'd like to join along with us this month and you're not an active part of LifePath Church, you are absolutely invited to share in it. Together for Good reflections will resume in January. Here's the downloadable link to the PDF version of our booklet. Jesus is coming. Watch and wait! Peace, Keith Then make me truly happy by agreeing wholeheartedly with each other, loving one another, and working together with one mind and purpose. -Philippians 2:2 I am fortunate to have a great connection with my Uncle Dan in Indiana. He served as a pastor for many decades, and we've always had a shared heart in the area of shepherding our communities toward Jesus. We get together regularly on zoom to talk about pastoring, church life, stress, family, and anything else that comes up. A few days ago we were talking about the different elements that churches use during their gatherings. And I mentioned how at LifePath we do "common prayer." During our musical worship space, people can walk to a table and write down prayers on little slips of paper. Then someone reads them later on and everyone says aloud, "Lord, Hear our prayer." We get so many unique voices every week writing prayers. It's inspiring. It's also a little risky, because you've got a lot of different people and a lot of different life experiences. People's understandings of what is appropriate to pray for (and how!) can differ greatly. Even their very understandings of God can differ! You never know what might pop up on one of those papers (especially from the kids!). And what do you do if what someone writes seems a little....off base? I told him that over the years, our culture has held up pretty well, but every now and then a prayer comes up that I might not particularly resonate with, and that can be a little awkward. "Oh, yes," my uncle said, clearly understanding. "Those are the sorts of moments where you just kind of cover your mouth and whisper, "Lord, hear HIS prayer." We both laughed pretty good. But it got me thinking about something important for true Christian community. Sometimes the best we can do is just be thankful that God is hearing someone's prayer, and that God gets to sort out what to do with it all. We can really confuse what unity means. We mix it up with uniformity. We think our goal is to fix everyone and get them on our side... whatever "our side" happens to be in any given area! As our church keeps growing with new faces and perspectives, I'm learning that it's both impossible and unnecessary for the goal to be that everyone thinks about everything the same way. We've now got people with Catholic, Methodist, Presbyterian, and Mennonite backgrounds. We've got skeptics, "don't-put-me-in-a-box"ers, and more. We've got deeply churched folks and people who are new to this whole Jesus thing. We've got people who come from traditional backgrounds and those who are the opposite of that. And they all look at the world in wonderful, challenging, unique ways. When Paul encouraged the young church in Ephesus to be "like-minded," he was encouraging them to use their different gifts and stories in a cooperative way rather than a destructive way. He wasn't actually requiring them to have all the same opinions or perspectives. The goal of having "one mind" for them (and for us) was that they were all moving toward having the "mind of Christ" (1 Cor 2). If Jesus is what we're moving toward, that center will be more defining than sharing all the same opinions and approaches to everything. It's an important distinction. Now of course, if your understanding of following Jesus is in direct opposition to others, then you are probably not going to thrive in that community and it's not a good fit for you. But there are many shades between that, and part of the journey of discipleship is making space for one another. This is radically countercultural, and requires a shared commitment on everyone's part, or else it doesn't work. But it's a beautiful vision. I want to be able to say with a smile... "Lord, hear his prayer. It may not be mine, Lord, but I know you understand his heart." Because the Lord knows he's probably thinking the exact same thing about me! Love and unity are still possible. Let's be learners. Let's have healthy and robust conversations in love. But let's absolutely make space for one another's unique faith journeys as we look to Jesus together. Jesus, be our center. Peace, Keith Show me loving-kindness, O Lord, for I am in trouble. My eyes, my soul and my body are becoming weak from being sad. -Psalm 31:9 "Our minds can trick us, but our bodies are honest." My coach (I'm in a pastoral cohort) said this the other day as we dove into a really complex conversation about pain, trauma, and how stress gets held in our bodies. And for a week, I've been thinking about it. You can say you're not afraid of heights, but your heart races and your breath stops when you reach a ledge. Or maybe after the divorce, you tell yourself that you have made peace and dealt with the anger. And then you drop your kids off with them and as soon as the door opens, the skin on the back of your neck stands up and you are in fight mode again. Your body remembers. The Psalmist speaks about how emotional stress and fear were making his body ache. The Proverbs are full of reminders that certain behaviors "bring life to the bones" and other experiences make us weary. The writer isn't talking about how hard leg day is. He's talking about how we feel our pain, our worry, our fear, our past hurt... in our bodies. God created us to be integrated beings. When Jesus said that we should love God with our heart, soul, mind, and strength (Mark 12:30) he was reminding us that we are not disembodied spirits. Bodies participate in the joy and heartache of life. When Jesus is in the garden, we can see the weight of the world bearing down on his body. We're told he was "in anguish." Some scholars think that when Luke mentions Jesus sweating like great drops of blood, he was writing about hematidrosis. That's an actual condition where under intense stress, a person's blood vessels dilate and rupture. But that isn't the point. The point is that we get a glimpse of Jesus having a physical experience of an emotional weight. Anguish. Jesus understands this stuff because he experienced it. We humans are quite skilled at removing our bodies from our spiritual lives. The Gnostics did it 2000 years ago, and we modern day Christians do it today. Sure, we talk about having healthy bodies, working out, and eating well. But we spend a relatively small amount of time allowing our bodies to speak to us about our spiritual state and our wounds. And we get really skeptical if someone suggests that some gentle stretches or breathing exercises might enable us to release to God some emotional stuff that's built up in our joints. Our bodies accumulate and remember pain and trauma (book resource: The Body Keeps the Score). They reveal where we are vulnerable when our minds might not. So in order to be in tune with what God is saying to us, it's important to pay attention to the gift of our bodies....since God gave them to us. Most of my life I've thought that when I have sore shoulders, it's because I was sitting at my desk all day. Only recently have I started to realize that those aches are more about the pressures and expectations during that office time, than the sitting itself. And that awareness is helping me do some internal work with Jesus about how I handle pressure and expectations. If you took some time to listen to your body, what would it tell you? Where do you need slow down? What do you need to give extra sensitivity to? Where are anger and stress and shame and guilt affecting your health? Where does God want to invite you into healing? When we deny our how we're affected by hurt and stress, it gets compounded. But when we acknowledge it, we have a chance to keep moving toward healing (both in the shoulders and the soul!). Thank God that Jesus is an incredible healer. Today, take a moment to get out of your mind and prayerfully sit with your body. It's a truth teller. What is it saying? Pay attention to what you're hearing, and allow Jesus to be a safe place for you to rest and recover. Lord, lead me to awareness, hope, and rest in you. Peace, Keith “John the Baptist sent us to you to ask, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?’” -Luke 7:20 I'm thinking this week about how many times Jesus was a disappointment. About how many times Jesus could not meet the expectations of others. John the baptizer comes onto the scene, proclaiming that the One is coming.... the One who was prophesied about. And when he arrives, John says, he is going to clean house. With Elijah-like fury, this one would come and destroy evildoers, striking the land with total destruction (Malachi 4). And when John sees Jesus, he immediately senses it. He proclaims to everyone: this is the guy! And then the months pass. And no one has been burned to a crisp. No revolutions have begun. And lots of people are being shown compassion. And well, it's just not what he expected. It's confusing. So John the Baptizer sends a couple of his disciples to let Jesus know that they've got some questions. Did John get this wrong? Maybe you're not the one we thought you were? I wonder how Jesus felt hearing that. What a human moment. This wasn't the only time Jesus left people disappointed. Jesus may have been a healer, but he also needed sleep when the sun went down. There were unhealed folks left out there plenty of days, I promise you. Disappointment. Jesus refused to be made king when his people wanted to start a revolution and force him to lead them. Disappointment. When Jesus talks mysteriously about taking his body and drinking his blood (a glimpse at how he would replace ritual religion with himself), a bunch of his disciples started to walk away. He just wasn't what they expected. Disappointment. Philip looks at Jesus and says, "show us the father, and that will be enough." Sometimes we forget what was under the surface of that request from Phillip. Jesus was not enough. Disappointment. I wonder how Jesus dealt with it all. He disappointed so many people, even while being perfectly faithful. What hope do WE have??? This is an issue we all deal with. Are any of us really what others expect? Universally, all of us have experiences with expectations and disappointment. Either we will disappoint those around us because we don't live up to their expectations, or we will disappoint ourselves for not living up to an unspoken set of expectations (that we have absorbed from the culture around us or from our own need to make everyone happy). Sometimes it doesn't even matter if the expectations are realistic or not. We still feel the sting of not meeting them. I remember during the pandemic, how skilled I was at disappointing people. Every decision felt like a lose/lose as a leader. It was nearly crippling to know that even doing my best, others would be disappointed in me because I couldn't meet their needs and expectations. Now I can see that I never could have met every need, nor was that even my role. But I felt like it was. Expectations. And it almost destroyed me. I felt like giving up. Have you felt that way sometimes? Home, work, school, marriage, family, friendships? As we think about expectations and disappointments in our own life, I see Jesus coming to us in two ways. First, Jesus is our example. In the moments that others are disappointed in Jesus, he was able to remain deeply rooted in his identity and calling. He was able to continue walking forward without constantly needing to defend himself or change his purpose. He was loving, but firmly aware of what was his to do and what wasn't his to do. And it was all because of his constant connection with the Father. He was secure in his value, and independent of the expectations or disappointment of others. But Jesus isn't simply our example. He is also our source of grace. There are times that we truly will fall short and disappoint people. We will make mistakes. We will act selfishly. We will lack wisdom. These moments of disappointment can lead us to paralysis, or they can lead us to the cross. Knowing that Jesus sees us as we are and still calls us beloved is a transformative reversal of crippling disappointment. Knowing that we are loved and given grace, we can walk forward beyond condemnation, fixing our eyes on Jesus and living to follow his call with confidence and love. Wherever you may feel like a disappointment today, Jesus understands. He receives both the unfair expectations and the honest imperfections and reminds you that your worth is based on God's image in you, not others' expectations of you. There is grace upon grace to lift your head up and life a life of love today, fresh and free. Jesus, thank you. Peace, Keith For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope. Romans 15:4 Have you ever heard a multi-instrumentalist play? Recently I was at a banquet that had live jazz music. The young man providing the entertainment was extraordinary, switching effortlessly between instruments throughout the songs, even playing them at the same time.* Imagine a sharply dressed musician playing an oboe, with a saxophone hanging around his neck, while tapping a snare with his foot and then using his free hand to hit the keyboard during off beats. And there's a guitar beside him on deck for the next song. Yeah. The music itself was beautiful, smooth, and flawless. There was a fullness to it, because this gentlemen was integrating all these ways of making music. So many gifts were on display. It was beautiful to see the depth of music that resulted. That image came to me today as I thought about one of our LifePath conversations this weekend. As we explore various pathways to Jesus (spiritual disciplines), this week our topic was reading scripture. Yes, reading the Bible can be very complicated and confusing, because of the many interpretations and the many ways that it has been wielded to harm people. But like many complicated things, it doesn't mean we should give up on the incredible gift of the Spirit-infused word of God that ultimately points us to Jesus. I know many of you are not a part of my local church. But I'd like to share/remind thisTogether for Good crew of one of the opportunities this week that is worth leaning into. I want to invite you to embrace the many different ways that scripture can help us encounter God. God has given us a variety of avenues to encounter God's story. It's not all percussion... it's not all brass. And if we use all of these gifts that are at our disposal, we will open ourselves up to encounter Jesus in a fresh way that is wholly beautiful in its various expressions. We often act like there's only one way to make music when we encounter the Bible: Read something. Think about it. Continue with your day. But there are many unique ways of engagement that can bring depth and richness. God has given us various avenues to hear from the spirit in the scriptures. It's time to play more than one instrument. So at the risk of being overly practical and less inspirational this week, I want to encourage us to get pick up some new approaches and see what sort of music God brings forth. Trust that God is active and longing to speak into your life. Take a passage like Ephesians 3:14-21, or a story from the gospels. One day, try "Lectio Divina" (sacred reading)- Read the passage 3 times, slowly. What word or phrase does your mind stop on? Pause. Ask God why this is coming to the front and what God may be stirring in you. One day, turn the passage into a prayer throughout your day. One day, read the passage in different translations than you're used to. What are you noticing and what hits you fresh about the love of Jesus? One day, memorize one or more verses. We often don't talk about the power of having God's faithfulness etched in our minds during the moments when we need them most. It's a powerful practice. One day, share with a friend what you are hearing/learning, and ask them the same thing. Learn from each other and go beyond your own perspective. The ultimate purpose of Scripture is to point us to Jesus. At least that's what Jesus said (John 5:39), and I believe it. Let's trust that as we encounter the grand story with that expectation, we will indeed find what we are seeking. Let's step into it with fresh eyes and this week and in fresh ways, trusting that Jesus will keep shaping us into the sort of people who love God and love our neighbors more each day. There's always more of God's goodness to discover. What a gift. Jesus, transform me through the story that ultimately leads to you. Peace, Keith *Aaron Quarterman was the musician I so admired. Please check him out here! And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. -Ephesians 3:18-19 I was in a meeting recently with some pastors in my network, learning from each other and exploring what it means to be centered on Jesus. One of my Canadian friends was just riffing about his journey of life with God. "There is always more depth, always more to know, always more to discover," he said. "It's like we have a bottomless God." Since then, I've been thinking about this concept of God being bottomless. I don't often think in those terms. I believe deeply that Jesus has revealed God in complete fullness (Hebrews 1:3). So I will often talk about how we can truly know God with clarity in a way that was never possible before Jesus. We don't have to wonder what God is like. But all too often, that can lead to the entirety of my faith being just trying to do the stuff Jesus said. After all, I know what God is about. I figured it out! Now, don't get me wrong! The personal action component of following Jesus is absolutely central. We cannot read the New Testament without seeing these: Come and follow me, love your enemies, serve one another, etc. Jesus has given us clarity on what God is about and what we are supposed to do, for sure. But sometimes my tendency is to assume that since I have some clarity, there isn't much new to discover. The problem with this assumption is that our view of God remains very static, and requires zero active faith whatsoever. It's kind of spiritless, honestly. Just a lot of work to do, and that's the extent of it. When we think that we've gotten to the bottom of our understanding and awareness, knowing exactly how God works or what we're supposed to do, we will (ever so subtly) begin to rely on ourselves and trust God less. If we have God figured out, then we know longer expect God to shape and surprise us in new ways. And we don't seek wisdom and grace on deeper levels. I've learned that there is a wonderful and mysterious thing that happens to us when we realize that there is always more to discover. It's not that we don't have clarity. It's that clarity and mysterious depth are not mutually exclusive. I remember almost 30 years ago, staring into the remarkable blue and orange steaming pools of Yellowstone National Park for the first time. It's one of the thin places in the world where the crust of the earth is more narrow, offering glimpses into awe-inspiring geological wonders. But here's the thing. The water is crystal clear. You can see everything with absolute clarity. Yet it also keeps going down and down, much farther beyond anything you could comprehend. It's clear. And bottomless. So it is as we walk with Jesus. This should give us a sense of peace that we can truly know God. It should also give us a nudge to humbly keep diving, even when you think you see clearly. You might be right! But even if you are, there's always more to discover. More wonder, more love, more grace, more understanding, more compassion, and more depth. We are in relationship with a bottomless God. What a beautiful mystery. Jesus, refresh my faith and curiosity this week. Help me listen for where you are inviting me to grow in receiving your grace and expressing your love. Peace, Keith The Lord will mediate between nations and will settle international disputes. They will hammer their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nation will no longer fight against nation, nor train for war anymore. -Isaiah 2:4 Lord, we’ve gotten nowhere. Again and again, the suffering and brutality of our world becomes too apparent. And I get this mixture of anger followed by resignation. I pray, I cry out, I even shed tears. And it’s real, believe me, God. But then I go back to loading my dishwasher, or checking my email, or whatever. And my street is pretty peaceful when I look out the window. Yet it’s a mirage. There are mourning Israelis and weeping Palestinians. There are Israelis screaming in anger and Palestinians screaming in anger. Nobody will ever win this. But it’s not just there. It's here too. There are fresh diagnoses of cancer. There are dead-end jobs and failing health and people being mistreated. There are crippling mental health struggles and there are embittered spirits and there are burned out leaders. There is shame and trauma from the past, and it is stopping people from living in the present. It all feels so unfair. Who can bear it all? Certainly not me, Jesus. So in all my grand pastoral wisdom, sometimes all I can think is, what the heck, Lord??? The thing is, Jesus, I don’t even hold a theology that expects you to come out of nowhere and stop all the violence, fix all of our problems, or change the laws of physics. I believe you can and have done miracles, but I have learned to trust that those usually take place in ways deeper than we can see. I’ve come to believe that the deepest work you do is not in jamming gun triggers and rocket launch buttons, but in transforming the hearts of those that pull and push them. I believe that you can bring peace and comfort in a world too full of violence, anxiety, and pain. I believe that you have created a people to reveal to the world a better way, and to bring it into reality. I believe that there’s grace in these waiting moments as we long for wholeness in us and our world. And I believe that there is hope for a forever future free of injustice and sin and suffering. And then other days, Lord, all that stuff above just sounds like a bunch of religious jargon. And I’m left just needing to send those feelings somewhere and say, “enough is enough, Jesus.” So it’s not really anger at you, God. It’s generic anger. It’s directed at powers and systems and myths of redemptive violence. It’s directed at sickness and sin and death and their ongoing effect on the world. It’s frustration at a world that didn’t didn’t get it when you wept over Jerusalem and asked them to open their eyes so that they could know the things that bring real peace. It’s frustration at a world that still doesn’t get it. It’s frustration that so many times, I don’t either. The anger is just the lid on top of a complicated pot of bubbling feelings. But the feelings are real, and I know that if I don’t direct them to you, they’ll get directed elsewhere. So I figure you’re not fragile. I figure you can handle my annoyance with how awful people can be and how hard it is to trust that they are still made in your image. I figure you can handle my guilt that I don’t have answers to fix the problems or strategies to make all of our pain and trauma go away. I figure you can handle my tied tongue, that when there aren’t the right words (or words at all), you can still comprehend my silent longing for your kingdom to come. I figure that you might even invite me into these outbursts, because I’m just joining our historic line of holy criers, complainers, and questioners that can't quite swallow the idea that “that’s just the way the world is.” Because it shouldn’t be. We both know that. So when I rant and groan and ramble like this, Lord, it’s just my best attempt to be faithful right now, even though I know it may not be helpful. Perhaps tomorrow has more hope. Or perhaps I’m in a season of trusting that another world is possible, even when I don’t see much to back it up. But I’m not going anywhere. You still have the words of life. You always will. Amen. Thanks for praying with me today, friends. Peace, Keith re to edit. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. -Philippians 3:12 Demosthenes lived in the 4th Century BC, a few hundred years before Jesus was born. Living in Athens, he was considered one of the greatest speakers of his generation. The great Cicero of Rome once said he was a "perfect orator, lacking nothing." A student of Plato, his speeches served to preserve his city's freedom from outside political forces and promote the beauty of his Athenian culture. Why bring up a guy like that? Well, he wasn't always able to speak well. In fact, he was almost totally inarticulate because he had a major speech impediment that made it impossible for others to understand him. This is where it gets weird. Demosthenes decided that he wanted to dedicate his life to becoming a speechwriter and speaker. So he built an underground study and got to work. He shaved half of his head (which was shameful) so that he wouldn't be tempted to go out in public and lose his focus. He placed pebbles in his mouth for hours at a time in order to practice his speaking until he spoke with absolute clarity, freedom, and grace. And he stood in the ocean surf building his vocal strength by speaking above the crashing waves. Weird, yes. But his efforts brought transformation. We have a tense relationship between grace and effort in Christian discipleship. We tend to swing the pendulum in one direction or the other. Either we talk of all of life being grace and no effort needed, or we act like our very salvation is completely up to us, rather than a gift from God. The reality is both. Our value, our salvation, and our standing before God is a complete gift of grace. But if we are going to actually follow Jesus in the world, it takes intentional training. We don't just naturally learn to forgive, withhold judgment, and practice generosity. We must train ourselves and ask Jesus to train us. If I want to become less judgmental, I've got to start learning the stories of the people around me. If I want to experience the freedom of contentment and generosity, I've got to start practicing parting with my possessions. If I want to speak words of life, I've got to start holding my tongue in those snarky little comments that I'm particularly good at. At LifePath right now, we're encountering a new "spiritual discipline" each week. And honestly, it feels like work. We're asking each other to give intentional effort during the week to learning new practices and postures. But that's because on the other side, we will see Jesus more clearly, and our lives will reflect him more closely. It takes effort to grow in the skills of love and connection. But on the other side of the effort, there is such a gift. Dallas Willard says, "Every discipline has its consequence, and that consequence is freedom." That, to me, sums up why we "press on" in our discipleship. It's not because grace isn't sufficient. It's because new levels of freedom are waiting for us if we do the work. Demosthenes went through the discipline of the stones and the waves to experience the freedom of the tongue. I'm sure it felt silly at the time. But when he emerged to speak, he was free in a new way. So it is with us as we intentionally follow Jesus. Our goal really isn't perfection. It's reflection. Reflecting the character and life of Jesus in the most genuine way possible in our lives. So when you choose to pause in prayer, or when you fast from a meal, or when you practice not having the last word, or tangibly serving someone else when you don't feel like it.... It may feel silly or meaningless. It may feel like you have to overcome your natural inclinations. But on the other side of your labor, there is freedom. So I invite you to embrace a season of fresh discipline, while never forgetting that God's grace is completely sufficient for you. You'll find freedom. And it's even ok if you fail. Jesus, help me not avoid the work that will lead to growth, freedom, and love in you. Peace, Keith |
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