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!
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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 I am the true vine, and my Father is the vineyard keeper. He removes any of my branches that don’t produce fruit, and he trims any branch that produces fruit so that it will produce even more fruit. -Jesus (John 15:1-2) I've been thinking a lot about releasing the need for control this week. The natural world often mimics the spirit, and I find that the autumn season always teaches me something about life with Jesus. With fall in the mid-atlantic comes the great falling of the leaves. As comedian Jim Gaffigan puts it, people just love watching the leaves and celebrating their last moments before they FALL TO THEIR DEATH. Now you’ll never be able think about the October the same way again! Don’t worry, it gets worse. The word “fall” sounds more passive than the reality is. When you look into the science of it, you find out that the leaves are actually "pushed off” the branches. It's even more brutal than Gaffigan suggests! There's a hormone in deciduous trees that tell them it's time to release. Thick cells quickly form a bumpy line on the place where the stem of the leaf connects with the branch, and the leaf is literally pushed off the tree. The thing is, leaves are how a tree survives! As the fall occurs, the tree appears to release the exact thing it needs to live. And it enters a season of trusting. How often do we cling to things that we've told ourselves we need, even if they aren't bringing life anymore? How rarely do we truly trust the spirit of Jesus to bring contentment and healing when all we can see is an empty branch? But here's what we know. The great release of our trees-- all those little deaths-- actually enable them to survive for the long haul. And it happens time and time again. What can we learn? The world around is a reminder that we can trust Jesus to continue to bring us cycles of new life, rather than trying to manufacture them on our own. We can trust that in the moments of releasing control.... in the moments of pruning.... even in the moments of death.... that we can walk in peace and trust, because Jesus is here, and Jesus came to bring life. Over and over again. Jesus speaks of the Father as a wise gardener who cuts off things in us that are unnecessary, and trims things that need more time before they are ready to grow. Releasing is a spiritual tool for health. Sometimes that means wasteful time, toxic habits, relational dynamics, and things that pull us from an awareness of God. But it can also mean releasing our need to control outcomes, and our temptation to cling onto past seasons. Because it's just so hard to feel barren and trust Jesus' promise of future life. Jesus talks about dying. He says that when we learn to die to our own egos, priorities, and need for control, we can finally take hold of God’s heart. And that, like a dying seed, brings life many times larger than we can imagine. It’s beautiful. Like the seasonal leaves. Maybe the cooler breeze of the next few days will encourage you to consider what God is inviting you to release. That’s between you and God. But rest assured that when we learn how to live with the simple focus of loving Jesus and the people around us, letting other details fall as they need, our lives become a breathtaking glimpse of God’s beauty. Jesus, help me know what to release today. Peace, Keith So encourage each other and build each other up, just as you are already doing. -1 Thessalonians 5:11 Have you ever tried to open that one kitchen drawer with all the weird shaped stuff and it won't budge? Something gets jammed in there after it shuts and then when you try to pull it, it's just stuck? You have to start jiggling the entire drawer in and out, trying to get things to settle a little lower. I usually make it worse, so eventually I have to shove my hand up inside and try to grab whatever edge keeps catching. Maybe you've never experienced that, but it's a regular occurrence in our house. So the other day I'm trying to figure out what on earth is jamming the kitchen drawer. We've got paring knives, peelers, a garlic press, and all sorts of items in there. I finally adjust things correctly and slide the drawer open, and I see this giant green handled knife filling up half the space. What on earth? The green knives are always kept in the wood block on the counter. We know this. So I'm just about to open my mouth and with a condescending voice ask loudly, "Who was it that put the green bread knife in the drawer???" And then I stopped. I realized that Bethany and I almost certainly didn't do that. We know where this stuff goes. That means that one of our kids did. That means that one of our kids was putting away dishes. And I was about to call them out for doing it wrong. It was a tiny little "kairos" moment for me. A moment in time where you notice God whispering just a little encouragement to help you be formed more like Jesus. Notice the movement, not the mistake. I wonder how often I am quick to criticize an action that is just someone trying their best with the knowledge and skills they have? I do that too regularly. And yet so much of my own growth has been because others haven't chosen criticism when they certainly could have. My church let me lead worship on my guitar when I was seventeen. I hardly ever play the guitar anymore, and I didn't do it well back then. It must have been rough! Yet it was an affirming experience, because people recognized my heart more than my lack of skills. It helped me have confidence in front of people. I left a kid at a conference once when I was a youth pastor because I forgot to do a final count. The parents were forgiving, and I didn't quit ministry (I wanted to, I was so embarrassed). I gave so many bad sermons before I started to feel even a little competent as a teacher (I need to be careful with this one because there a still a LOT of Sundays that are a swing and a miss). My congregation has been kind and gentle with me. Jesus's disciples got it right sometimes and wrong a lot more often. Yet Jesus continued to believe in them, helping them walk forward even as they learned. He saw the beauty in their effort. He offered grace in their failures. I still can't believe that after Peter denied that he knew Jesus, that Jesus asked him to lead the entire movement. Perhaps when we look at the moments that others don't get it right, we need to remember that there is often something worth affirming in the effort. And like a friend of mine likes to say, "If something is worth doing, it's worth doing poorly." I'm so quick to expect that others will get it right the first time, yet I know how much grace I've needed over the years (and still need, Lord have mercy!) of trying and failing, before getting some things right. It's just a kitchen drawer. But I had a choice that day to criticize a mistake or affirm an effort. I know I'm conditioned to criticize. But I'm trusting Jesus to help me name the goodness far more quickly in those around me. How about you? Where are you prone to notice the mistakes around you? How can you trust Jesus to help you find something to affirm just as quickly? You may never know how crushing your criticism is, or how inspiring your encouragement can be. Jesus, slow down my quickness to criticize today. Peace, Keith The Lord now chose seventy-two other disciples and sent them ahead in pairs to all the towns and places he planned to visit. -Luke 10:1 "Why don't I come down for a day and help you weed?" These are words that will almost certainly never come out of my mouth. And they didn't. But they did come from my mother-in-law during a conversation with my wife Bethany recently. We have a large sloped flowerbed in our backyard that leads up to the woods, and we simply hadn't been able to keep up with it this year. Jobs and kids and schedules made this summer tougher for yard work than in the past, and fall weekends hadn't been much better. And to say that the beds had become overgrown with weeds is...an understatement. One of my kids could be up in there and I wouldn't know it. Our plants were struggling, but Bethany was mentioning how we were going to have to just surrender and wait another season to figure it out. It was too overwhelming of a task to tackle. Bethany said it took several repeated offers from her mom before she finally caved. It still felt too big. But that amazingly generous offer led to a seemingly impossible transformation. Can I just tell you of the power of two strong, determined women? (about half of you don't need me to tell you anything about that). Talk about being overwhelmed! The weeds had no chance. Bethany and Sue took a day during the middle of last week and spent hour after hour digging in the dirt, filling bag after bag and wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow with weeds. They freed up flowers and native plants that hadn't seen sunlight in months. They were covered in dirt and grime from head to toe, yet God's beauty was being revealed. And when I got home from a meeting and found them in the backyard, they were actually smiling? It's confusing, I know. And that's the thing about tackling overwhelming tasks with others. It doesn't just make it possible, it can even make it life-giving. Jesus sent the disciples out in pairs to go before him and help loosen the soil for the kingdom of God to take root. It was a daunting task. People were full of Jewish political and military expectations. Many would not be interested in the message Jesus was bringing. I'm sure the disciples felt overwhelmed. It was also overwhelming when the risen Jesus stood on the precipice of Mt. Arbel, telling his disciples to go out and make disciples of all nations, teaching them his ways. Even the first step of the journey years earlier must have been overwhelming, when Jesus said to those fishermen, "come and follow me." Yet none of those invitations was toward a solo journey. Every time a hard task came, Jesus made sure that his people didn't do it alone. But then he ascended, and we forgot. We quickly become overwhelmed with the need to fix ourselves, accomplish great goals, and do hard daily tasks, because we forget that we weren't made to do this work alone. Jesus never intended to start a religion that fit nicely with rugged individualism and bootstrap theology. Jesus created a beloved community that would bear each others' sorrows, share in each others' challenges, and partner together in his shared purpose. And it was rooted in mutual love. Those words may be familiar, but they remain radical. Inviting other people into our lives and also offering to lend a hand with the overwhelming obstacles that our friends may be facing-- that's not normal. But it's how we live into our created purpose. This is one way we participate in God's ongoing redemption of the world. And thank God Jesus has given us his spirit to empower those bonds of community and partnership! Perhaps it's time to accept a hand. Perhaps it's time to offer one in a new way. We all face overwhelming tasks all the time. Raising families. Figuring out our identities. Dealing with finances. Managing mental health. Processing loss. Exploring faith. Practicing compassion. Keeping up on our weeding! What a gift to realize that there is joy and movement when we tackle these things alongside fellow followers of Christ. Jesus, break down the myth of self-sufficiency, and grow humble love in me. Peace, Keith He leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul; - Psalm 23:2-3 Shhhhhhhhhhh. It's ok. This week at LifePath Church we are exploring the spiritual practice of silence and solitude with God. It is both a challenge and an immense gift. Jesus wants to bring restoration to us and increase relational connection with us. And it happens when we slow down enough to be found by him. As we considered how Jesus leads us to quiet stillness in a world of busyness and noise, I ended my message on Sunday with a poem from the great American theologian and scholar Howard Thurman. His emphasis on the contemplative life with God formed the basis of his nonviolent work for justice and equality. His classes and writing inspired a young Martin Luther King, Jr. during formative years. Dr. King even had a copy of one of Thurman's books in his suit pocket throughout the Montgomery bus boycott. Influenced by Quaker spirituality, Thurman deeply valued the way that God transforms a disciple through silence and stillness. He called it, "Centering Down" and he found it deeply joyful. So today, I invite you to center down as well, and quietly connect with God through Thurman's poetic words, soaked in a life of faithfulness to Jesus. And perhaps you can take a few moments afterward to simply be still. How Good to Center Down by Howard Thurman How good it is to center down! To sit quietly and see one’s self pass by! The streets of our minds seethe with endless traffic; Our spirits resound with clashings, with noisy silences, While something deep within hungers and thirsts for the still moment and the resting lull. With full intensity we seek, ere the quiet passes, a fresh sense of order in our living; A direction, a strong sure purpose that will structure our confusion and bring meaning in our chaos. We look at ourselves in this waiting moment – the kinds of people we are. The questions persist: what are we doing with our lives? – what are the motives that order our days? What is the end of our doings? Where are we trying to go? Where do we put the emphasis and where are our values focused? For what end do we make sacrifices? Where is my treasure and what do I love most in life? What do I hate most in life and to what am I true? Over and over the questions beat in upon the waiting moment. As we listen, floating up through all the jangling echoes of our turbulence, there is a sound of another kind – A deeper note which only the stillness of the heart makes clear. It moves directly to the core of our being. Our questions are answered, Our spirits refreshed, and we move back into the traffic of our daily round With the peace of the Eternal in our step. How good it is to center down! Jesus, let me sink deeply into you today, with a growing awareness of my inner self and your constant presence. Peace, Keith Let us keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, on whom our faith depends from beginning to end. - Hebrews 12:2 (GNT) Bethany and I have a dream of one day adding a small addition to the back of our house where our aging back porch is. We keep worrying that it's going to fall over if we close the door too hard right now. We have everything laid out exactly in our minds. It would be bright and quiet, with a peaceful new office space on the left (with a huge window facing my birds and the woods) and a simple mud room on the right for a less cluttered way to get in and out of the yard. We hope the opportunity comes in the next few months/years to save, find a professional builder, explain our vision, and have them make it happen. We don't really want to give an architect freedom to do just anything. We have a clear framework and we need someone to get us there. We humans prefer that sort of thing, don't we? Having a very specific vision for what something is supposed to look like, and then finding the right help to get it done? Unsurprisingly, this is one reason why it can be such a struggle to truly follow Jesus. New Testament scholar Tom Wright introduced me to this imagery. He reflects on what the Jewish people of Jesus' time were expecting: "They were looking for a builder to construct the home they thought they wanted, but he was the architect, coming with a new plan that would give them everything they needed, but within quite a new framework. They were looking for a singer to sing the song they had been humming for a long time, but he was the composer, bringing them a new song to which the old ongs they knew would form, at best, the background music. He was the king, all right, but he had come to redefine kingship itself..." Most of us reading this are American Christians. We have become conditioned to hope that Jesus will bring us the life we want, or at the very least, the life we can envision. The problem is that our imaginations are woefully inadequate, and the kingdom of God is exceedingly larger than we expect. Plus, Jesus is always surprising religious folks! Wright says that we are more accustomed to wanting someone to save our souls rather take charge of our whole world. I think that's true. And yet, what Jesus came to do really was shake up the whole world and everyone in it. He came to flip over its systems of power and prestige. He came to make a way for God's kingdom to flourish within each human heart and within the (often unjust) systems in which they participate. That's what it means to be free on every level. And it starts with a true openness to let Jesus be the architect, the composer, the author, of our lives. That sounds exceedingly heady and not practical, I know. But sometimes we only gain the ability to truly see and hear when we're not even sure what we're listening or looking for. We just have to be attentive. And to trust that Jesus is truly, exceedingly, astonishingly good. What new layer will Jesus uncover within you? What surprising opportunity to love will Jesus place in your path today? What fresh purposes and projects might Jesus be inviting you to spend the next season of your life on? Let's not assume we have it figured out. Who knows, maybe if Bethany and I talk to an architect, we'll see options out back we've never imagined before! Let's continue to walk with openness and humility toward Jesus. He will always surprise us with transforming grace and love, and he will always equip us for unexpected callings in God's kingdom. Jesus, keep reframing my perspectives until I am trusting and following you completely, each new day. Peace, Keith Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce. - Jeremiah 29:5 Today I'm thinking about the challenge of holding the promises of God's ultimate redemption with the clear imperfection of each day's realities. As God formed a people, they began a journey toward the "promised land." That promise was that they would become rooted in a place with peace and freedom and enough for everyone. They would be able to truly settle down and live as God intended. Of course, we know that even when they entered this promised land, human realities got in the way of this goal fully coming about. Selfishness, violence, greed and power led to a lot of brokenness. Then Jesus came to help people understand that God's ultimate promise was more than arriving at a time and place. It was about learning to experience life in him. Life is not simply a waiting game to reach a certain point before it really starts. Each moment is a chance to live fully with God, even while keeping our eyes on the ultimate hope of God's kingdom coming. Interestingly, this thread has always been there. So let's go back to the story of Israel. About 800 years after they entered this promised land, everything fell apart. The Babylonian's invaded and captured them, destroying the temple and much of the Jerusalem. This happened around 600 BCE and the prophet Jeremiah was there for the whole thing. He'd been warning them that they were losing their way and heading for destruction. Most were taken into exile far away from the promised land. Many of them were forced to walk 500 miles (they did NOT want to walk 500 more) into their captor's region. It was a struggle and a disappointment when the promise of stability and flourishing didn't pan out. Yet there was always hope. Jeremiah comes to them and reminds them that God had not abandoned them. In a hopeful (but let's be honest, disappointing?) statement, he says that God is continuing to unfold hope and redemption... but it'll be about 70 years before it all comes to pass and they get to go home. Are we supposed to be HAPPY about this, Yahweh? Ima be dead! Interestingly, that well known verse about future hopes and plans is Jeremiah 29:11. And it's hopeful for sure, as they looked to ultimate restoration. But just a few verses earlier, Jeremiah really gives them (and us) some instruction worth chewing on. ...the God of Israel, says to all the captives he has exiled to Babylon from Jerusalem: “Build homes, and plan to stay. Plant gardens, and eat the food they produce. Marry and have children. Then find spouses for them so that you may have many grandchildren. Multiply! Do not dwindle away! And work for the peace and prosperity of the city where I sent you into exile. Pray to the Lord for it, for its welfare will determine your welfare.” They have a long way to go. Their situation is not perfect. And God says to them, don't wait around for perfection to come! Create little Edens right here in the brokenness. And stop thinking you aren't connected to each other. When you help your neighbors thrive, you will too. We have a temptation to think that we can't do the work of God's kingdom unless everything is perfect. But everything will never be perfect on this side of eternity. We are always going to be in exile in one way or another. Author Eugene Peters writes, These experiences of exile, minor and major, continue through changes in society, changes in government, changes in values, changes in our bodies, our emotions, our families and marriages. We barely get used to one set of circumstances and faces when we are forced to deal with another. Jeremiah does not tell them to just act like everyone else. He challenges them to participate in God's life where ever they find themselves, even in a "normal" that is not what they envisioned. Real life faithfulness is doing the best with what's in front of you, knowing that God's presence is there, even when situations aren't perfect. Don't wait to plant gardens until you've "arrived." You'll never start loving like Jesus did. It's ok when you feel like you're far from home. God is still inviting you deeper into connection, and broader into creating a culture of his goodness. What might it look like to plant a garden in whatever circumstance you're in today? Jesus, thank you for never leaving me, even when the journey is winding. Peace, Keith |
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