He left the next day for open country. But the crowds went looking and, when they found him, clung to him so he couldn’t go on. He told them, “Don’t you realize that there are yet other villages where I have to tell the Message of God’s kingdom, that this is the work God sent me to do?” -Luke 4:42-43 (MSG) A few days ago I was doing a long trail run up in a nature preserve along the Pennsylvania/Delaware state line. It's a popular area for biking too. It's not uncommon for me to see mountain bikers along my routes, and because I am out there for a few hours, sometimes I see a biker more than once. This time, I encountered a man biking in the morning on a long Pennsylvania climb a few miles into my run. About an hour passed and I hopped onto a different trail system, this time in Delaware. And here comes the same guy, this time biking towards me on the gravel from the opposite direction. As he neared me, I don't think he expected to see someone on foot a second time during his long ride. I gave my customary "hey again" nod as we passed. But in the 3 seconds we shared, he found enough time to offer a quick statement, almost like an out-of-breath greeting of sorts: "Jesus, you get around." And then he was gone. I admit that my first response was one of pride, enjoying anytime that I impress a mountain biker. But about 30 seconds later, I started ruminating on the deep theological truth that my new biker friend had just stumbled upon. "Jesus, you get around." I mean, he does, right? Jesus gets around all over the place. And understanding that can keep us full of humility and expectation. In the original Jesus movement 2000 years ago, I think there were a lot of people that probably said, Jesus, you get around! Jesus was constantly moving to new places. Not in a frenetic way, but intentionally. He traveled miles and miles throughout his days, traveling to villages and synagogues, to homes and leper colonies. He spoke with a blind beggar one day, and interacted with a political leader like Pilate on another. One moment he's talking with a religiously elite Pharisee, and the next he's having a dignified (and scandalous!) conversation with a Samaritan woman. He went from the backcountry towns of Galilee all the way to the epicenter of Jerusalem. The distances that he regularly traveled were impressive in their own right. But it was the variety of people that he interacted with, and the variety of ways in which he did it, that left such a remarkable legacy. In just a few years, he impacted so many people in so many contexts. He healed. He freed. He fed. He taught. He forgave. Jesus was always popping up in both expected and unexpected places (but nearly always in unexpected ways). Jesus. The man gets around. It was true in the time of Jesus, and I believe it is still true today. When Jesus breathed his spirit on his disciples and promised them that he would be with them always, it was a reminder that he was going to continue showing up all over the place as they did the work of extending God's love, mercy and compassion with their world. In fact, Jesus multiplied his presence in that moment. But that can be hard to see sometimes, particularly because we have difficulty imagining Jesus at work in people, places, and ways that we aren't familiar with. We tend to act like Jesus is only at work in our church, our country, our sanitized and approved areas. But Jesus has never worked like that. He gets around. And when we start to believe that, then we start to look for him in surprising places. The other day, I saw Jesus in a new friend- and I have no idea if they even identify as a Christian or not. I saw Jesus in a sunrise, with the reminder that the earth is the Lord's, and everything in it. I saw Jesus in a story shared during our church gathering. I even heard Jesus in frustrating rant about systems of injustice from a friend suffering a loss. Jesus shows up again and again. And in each of those moments, we have the opportunity to let Jesus move beyond our fences. And to be reminded that God's grace is spacious. Jesus, you get around. We don't need to have Jesus figured out. We don't need to understand exactly how the holy spirit works to trust that the range of Jesus is bigger and broader than we realize. And maybe that sort of awareness will lead us toward fresh hope and love as a result. Jesus, help me notice the many places you show up. Peace, Keith
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There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus. -Galatians 3:28 Our family just returned from a trip we've been planning for years. We spent nearly two weeks in Utah and Colorado, exploring beautiful places, laughing, and experiencing some of our majestic national parks. In the coming weeks, you'll undoubtedly hear snippets of that journey as I reflect and process what Jesus is teaching me through all things. And that's what we want to do, right? To see all of life as a opportunity to get to know Jesus better and become more like him? Midway through our trip we spent a day in Mesa Verde National Park. If you're not familiar, Mesa Verde is a time capsule, preserving the story of the Ancestral Pueblo people who built and lived in remarkable cliff dwellings about 700 years ago. Their abandoned villages are still incredibly intact. We chose the most adventurous tour, climbing up 30 foot ladders and crawling through a few narrow tunnels to see these amazing living quarters. Our Park Ranger helped us understand what we know about these dwellings. At one point he said that the Ancestral Pueblo people did not only dwell in cliffs. Some lived on the top mesa and hunted, and others lived in the valleys and farmed. Another tourist raised his hand to ask a question. "So, were these cliff dwellings the premium locations that people fought over, or were these the poorer areas?" Ranger Brady paused a moment and smiled a little. What a modern American question. "There was no class system like we think of today. People shared what they had and lived in community. There was no upper or lower class. Some just chose to live here, others elsewhere. That's what we know." As modern westerners, it's difficult to imagine a society in which people are not differentiated between the ones with all the resources and the ones without. It's how we see the world, right? How we establish our value? It's even how we choose our friends and decide if we are successful or not. We are groomed to constantly rank ourselves so that we know who is higher up and who is lower down. Both the tourist's question and the Ancestral Pueblo culture are reminding me of the radical beauty of God's kingdom vision. Like the ancient world of Mesa Verde, God's kingdom transcends the assumptions of class and classification. Jesus revolted against classism by touching the untouchable lepers, caring for the sick, offering dignity to beggars, treating women as equals, bringing attention to the poor, and sharing the table with those who had been judged as the worst of sinners. Theologian Greg Boyd writes, "The Kingdom of God has a center—Jesus Christ—and he demonstrated that there are no walls composed of class distinctions that should divide us. This is a beautiful alternative." A center room without walls is a beautiful image. In Mesa Verde, the ancestral Pueblo people lived in shared community, learning to respect one another and the land that they inhabited. In God's kingdom, we learn to see one another as God's beloved, and this earth as God's sacred creation. We choose to share community with those who may be very different. They may have more or less than us, but we are learning the beauty of diversity and the joy of sharing with each other when need arises. We acknowledge maturity and authority based on wisdom and compassion rather than accomplishment and accumulation. We understand that in Christ, we are one. And we believe that the expansive ground at the cross and the tomb entrance is wide enough for all of us to sit at. Our goal is not upward mobility but inward maturity, which may very well move us in the opposite direction at times. It's a beautiful, countercultural vision. There was one more thing. These cliffs didn't even have a much space for bedrooms and storage. Yet every single community dwelling was full of kivas, small round rooms reserved for sacred ceremonies, prayer, feasts, and celebrations. Square footage was limited, but a place to connect with the divine was always only a few steps away. Maybe I'll write more on kivas one day. But today, let us be a people that learn to freely share community without rank, knowing that the presence of God is near to us all. Jesus, protect me from the need to rank myself and others, and draw me near to your presence today. Peace, Keith "...and God saw that it was good." -Genesis 1:4 and 1:9 and 1:12 and 1:18 and 1:21 and 1:25 Every few years I teach through the beginning of Genesis with our church. I think many times we miss the point of this origin story, reducing it to a scientific prooftext that doesn't really lead us to encounter a God full of creative goodness and relationship. The story that begins us is remarkably different from the origin stories of other cultures. Instead of the world being created as a result of a cosmic battle between the gods, our story says that world is created simply by the power of God's good word. For the God of love, words create worlds. And the world God creates is deeply, wonderfully, fully, good. No other ancient origin story was like that. It was radical. Still is. So I've been thinking a lot about about the power of words, and about partnering to create cultures of goodness. My friend J.R. Briggs recently taught me about a word that he has become familiar with. It's called "freudenfreude." Now, you may have heard the word "schadenfreude" before. It's a German word that refers to the not-so-great human tendency to delight in the misery of other people. This is when folks are happy to see that guy get "what was coming to him." It's that deeply disturbing character flaw in my children that makes them laugh hysterically every time I stub my toe and roll on the ground in agony for 5 minutes. That's messed up, guys. And yet, we all know that feeling. And it's not always so humorous. It can stem from jealousy, competition, or the desire for people to be put in their place. Even in its most innocent forms, "schadenfreude" is often rooted in this thought: I'm glad that's not me! But there's an opposite word out there too. Social scientists use the word “freudenfreude,” (from the German word for joy) to describe the bliss that we feel when good things happen to someone else, even if it has no benefit to us. It's that moment when we see something wonderful happen to someone, and we are just grateful that such goodness exists. It's linked to wanting the best for others. And that means that it's linked to Jesus' call to love our neighbors, and to God's vision of creating cultures marked by goodness. What if we tried to be more intentional with our words and thoughts in this way? How would it change our lives to see good things happening to and through people, and tell them how wonderful we think it is? What if our natural inclination was to notice what is delightful about someone instead of what we don't like? And even beyond that.... what if our character became so Christlike that we just genuinely got happy when others experience good fortune? Can you imagine how much that would impact our communities? Our churches would be noticeable places of goodness and shared joy. People could come in and experience a refuge from the competitive and comparative environments around them, realizing that we truly want each other to flourish, and we delight in it. God has given us abundant life. And there is no shortage of it. There is grace enough for everyone, without reservation. Therefore, we can leave behind the need to protect our "piece of the pie." We can leave behind our need to see mean people "get their due." We can leave behind the jealousy that threatens to steal our God-enabled joy and contentment. Instead, we can long for goodness and freedom for each person, even the people we don't like or agree with! And we can participate in helping each other experience the goodness that flows from God's good world and God's good word. We can be people who practice freudenfreude, thinking "I'm glad it's them!" for all the right reasons. Take a look today. Where can you notice someone around you and delight in God's goodness toward them? Jesus, shape my identity so deeply that I effortlessly delight in goodness for others. Peace, Keith He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” -Jesus, Revelation 21:5 A friend reminded me recently that our bodies are constantly replacing cells, as old ones die and new ones are multiplied and created within us. I had some awareness of this, but I decided to research it a bit more. It is absolutely fascinating. Scientists at the Weizmann Institute of Science in Rehovot, Israel, have been measuring and documenting this process for years. And they've actually measured that we replace 330 billion cells every single day. That's about 1% of all of our cells. In other words, every 100 days or so, the equivalent of your entire body's cells get replaced. Certain fat and muscle cells have a longer life that can be years, but even they are turning over. It's been said that you are replaced completely every 7-10 years. That seems about right. You are not the same person you were a few years go. Goodness, you're not even the same person you were at Christmas. What is true of the physical is often true of the spiritual. At each point in time, we are not the same people as we were, even just a moment ago. Some things remain, but each new experience leads us to understand the world in new ways. Each time we read a scripture passage or hear a familiar story, we are not the same person who heard it the last time. God will speak to us in new ways because we are a new people. In light of this... Your friend saying, "Don't ever change!!" is both impossible and (sorry!) bad advice. Our bodies are built for constant regeneration. So it is with our spirits. The Apostle Paul writes to the church in Corinth, that each disciple is a "new creation" as they trust Christ. They are being made into something different. They will experience the world in different ways because they're not the same that they were before encountering the grace of God. And in his letter to the Romans, Paul also encourages them to fully embrace the renovation process, inviting them to become "transformed by the renewal of their minds." Paul tells them that they will become new people by learning to dwell on the beauty of God's kingdom in Christ, again and again. It's an interesting contrast. He is encouraging his young church members to think about the unchanging grace and love of God; and Paul knows that as they encounter it over and over again, they will constantly be changing. I love that. It gives me hope that God will speak and shape me in new ways, even through things I've heard before. Even through the deepest truths that we think we know by now. Truth be told, my friend shared that original comment to me because I was teaching on a theme similar to something that I had taught about 4-5 years ago. And I was expressing concern that people would be bored, or feel like "they've heard this before." "We are completely different people now," he said. He's right. Billions of cells have been replaced since then! We are not the same people as we were. And God is always in the process of making things new, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear. We may even find that God's love leads us to new understandings in the deep places. I am astonished at how the teachings of Jesus can hit differently every single time I read them, even a day apart. Because I'm not the same. I'm regenerating, by God's grace. I invite you to take a moment and invite God to regenerate your spirit. Take a look at the words of Jesus with fresh eyes. What familiar words do you now see differently? What weakness do you now identify with in new ways? What love do you now feel more acutely? Do not be afraid that you are not the same person, even if your own regeneration has been a painful process. God is alongside us in it all, nudging our spirits toward renewal along with body and mind. I hope we can be open to that. Maybe we'll even find that there is something wonderful and fresh in the same unchanging love of God. It is such a gift that although God does not change, we certainly do. Lord, I want to welcome this season of my life with you, and open myself up to fresh encounters with your timeless love. Peace, Keith He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.
-Jesus, Mark 4:39 In the middle of a stormy sea, Jesus gave his disciples one of his most powerful sermons. And he did it with only two (Hebrew) words. The message was direct. "Hey. Be Quiet." Goodness. Whether I want to be like Jesus OR listen to what he said, it's the same conclusion either way: Less words. More stillness. Isn't it remarkable that we can construct a self sustaining faith system, full of all the right actions and beliefs, requiring no quiet space with Jesus? This is a great tragedy, when there is more "us" than "God" in our faith. In the passage above, you might note that Jesus was not talking to his disciples, but to a raging storm. You're right. Jesus was reminding his disciples that he, like Yahweh, had power over the waters of chaos to bring peace, calm, and order. But let's be honest... there's a whole lot of chaos inside most of us most every day. So I don't think it's difficult to picture Jesus looking at us, taking a deep breath in, and then saying simply, "Hey. Can you be quiet for a minute?" Jesus says that some think God will hear them because of their many words. To others he says that they lack ears to hear. Stillness leads to receptivity. I'm realizing more and more that it's impossible to listen well when one already has words ready to come out. It's impossible to be fully present and available to God unless one truly learns how to be quiet. And wisdom will never grow deeply in one whose life is not characterized by holy stillness. Things can even look quiet on the outside, yet our minds and spirits are full of many words blasting at us through our brains and our screens. It may not sound loud, but the water is churning underneath the surface. This is far from the still waters that God leads the Psalmist to (23:2). Love will come in fullness when we take time to delight, enjoy, contemplate, and practice stillness with the living God. The gift is yours to receive. So, I am yielding the remainder of my allotted time, (Mr. Chairperson). These reflections usually take about 4 minutes to read. Use the final 2 to pause and listen to Jesus as he calms whatever storms are raging in you, and speaks peace. Jesus, let my words be few. I want to find refuge with you today. Peace, Keith From his fullness we have all received grace upon grace. - John 1:16 Each year when May rolls around I notice how many friends have birthdays. It seems like it's happening all the time. It's on my mind because this week I personally hit a milestone birthday, which has brought about more reflection than I expected. Apparently, I do not feel accomplished enough in my life to be 40 years old. And yet, here we are. And that's sort of the thing that's been bouncing around in my mind for today. People approach birthdays in very different ways. Some welcome celebration, others shy away from it. Their reasons are varied. Some people love to party. Some folks struggle with the attention of being celebrated at all. Others don't enjoy the reminder that another year has gone by, inevitably leading to a few more aches and pains and a slower metabolism. I'm in this phase of life where I can understand both perspectives. Sometimes I welcome that celebration, and sometimes I would rather hang quietly off to the side without notice. Sometimes I celebrate the wisdom and perspective that comes with age, and sometimes I feel the weight of extra responsibility and a body that is slowing down with age. I've even had years where in response to someone saying "happy birthday!" I respond with, "thanks...I think?" It just doesn't always feel worthy of celebrating, you know?! And yet, most everyone agrees that a person should be celebrated on their birthday. So today I'm thinking about what Jesus can teach us in all this. A couple of years ago I was having a conversation with one of my preteens (who was apparently practicing to be a future nihilist) and he said, "I don't get why we celebrate birthdays. People didn't DO anything. They were just....born, and we throw parties for them and stuff." Way to make the world a better place, bud. I mean, he's sort of right. Think about how undeserving a birthday celebration is. Isn't it both absurd and wonderful that we celebrate the fact that someone...happened? Congratulations. You happened. I imagine some black-eye-shadowed teen girl rolling her eyes sarcastically as she says this. But in all seriousness. Isn't this really unique? It's one of the only times that we celebrate people because of absolutely nothing that they've done. Maybe birthdays are a reminder of what the grace of God is like. Jesus helps reveal to us that in God's eyes, love is freely and abundantly given to humanity. Simply by existing, we bear God's image, reflecting something of the divine. Simply by existing, we are deemed worthy of mercy and redemption, with Jesus giving his own life to reveal the depths of God's love and heal the deep disconnect caused by sin and redundant religion. Even in his own life, Jesus emerges from the waters of baptism and the voice of God mysteriously declares, "this is my son, whom I love." And Jesus hasn't accomplished one. single. thing. And then Jesus walks around turning the world in its head, declaring worthiness to all the people who weren't supposed to be worthy. He celebrates with people who thought they were outside of celebration. He forgives anyone who asks for it, and a few people that don't (try working that one out in your religious system!) The Church was founded on the radical belief that grace is a completely free gift. We simply accept that there is nothing we can do to earn it and it keeps coming to us again and again. It doesn't matter if we feel worthy of having a birthday or not. It's still coming. Your mom worked hard for it, but you didn't! Yet you still receive gifts and are celebrated on that day. Likewise, you didn’t do anything to earn God’s grace, but you can simply receive it thankfully, leading to a fullness of life, now and forever. It's just free. Because God has declared you worthy of celebration and relationship. A few birthdays passed by this month of people I know, and I didn't really go out of my way to send a text or post on their wall or wish them a special day to communicate how valuable they are. I regret that. I'm going to do a better job at celebrating someone's worth simply because they happened. And from now on I am going to let every "happy birthday," given or received, be a holy reminder of the undeserved grace of a God who loves us and declares us worthy of celebration. Jesus, teach me to rest in the beauty of your grace today. Peace, Keith "I have called you friends..." - Jesus, John 15:15 A few decades ago, one of the summer camp songs that I used to sing went like this: Jesus is a friend, he's a friend next to ya Jesus is a friend so sing along Jesus is a friend he's a friend next to ya Jesus is a friend so sing..... Sing a-HALALALALALELUYAH HALALALALALEELUYAH!!! It was a SERIOUS, reflective song, which also included hit verses like "shake a friend's hand, shake a hand next to ya" and "bump another rump, bump a rump next to ya." The early 90's were quite a time. I'm just going to leave it at that before we get off topic. I will say that there was a lot of laughter in that song, even if not everyone chose to participate in the rump bumping verse. I'm thinking about friendship and what it means to relate to Jesus as friend. And why that can really be difficult. When you're very young, friendship can feel fairly simple. Children are often quick to name friends. A friend is someone that you enjoy being with, that you trust, and that you can be playful with. And the reason for being with your friends was pretty straightforward. It was fun to play, and it was a good way to spend time. Not much purpose beyond that. Greek Platonist philosopher Plutarch spoke of children possessing something called "first friendship" -- the ability to have playful and trusting connections easily, treating people like brothers and sisters. He also noted how this same characteristic was nearly impossible to find among adults. Friendship gets harder and more complicated as we get older, doesn't it? We grow up and embrace more important tasks. Maybe we find ourselves unable to relax enough to embrace play. Or perhaps we are too busy to feel like we have time for friendship. Or our difficult life experiences have just made it too difficult to really trust other people. So our friendships dwindle and we spend less time in playful settings. The playground attitude is long gone. The desire for friendship may be there, but the openness and priority that it takes are often too heavy. Similarly, as we grow older, we may find that embracing friendship with Jesus also gets more complicated. We've grown up, we've experienced some hard things. Perhaps faith and connection with God has lost its shiny, lighthearted beauty. And we spend a lot of our time thinking deep thoughts. So we grow into an adult-like faith. Cerebral. Formal. Guarded. Playless. And maybe, just maybe, sometimes.... Jesus is still just sitting there at the playground and waiting for us. When Jesus told his disciples that unless they changed and became like children, the couldn't experience the kingdom (Mt. 18:4), perhaps he was suggesting that we become so complicated that simple trust and playfulness are almost impossible. Yet that may just be the type of interaction Jesus longs to have with us. Jesus is called a "friend" of tax collectors and sinners and he refers to his disciples as friends multiple times, suggesting that he wants enjoyable shared connection founded on love, not simply work partners. There's a shortage of delight in people these days. And I notice the slow fade in myself too. But what if, instead of feeling like playfulness is the mark of a juvenile and immature faith, we saw it as one of the gifts that Jesus offers? With Jesus we can actually lean back in delight, being at peace hanging out with someone we love and enjoy. Not every moment needs to be deep wrestling or "doing business with God," as it is sometimes phrased. We are invited to join Jesus in the light, simple moments too. It shouldn't all be work. Jesus is Lord. Jesus is our example, our guide, our savior. Jesus is our lens to view the world. But Jesus is also our friend. And in those moments, there are no agenda items for the meeting and no shared tasks to work together to accomplish. Just swapping some stories and enjoying the afternoon together because we like each other, and he's easy to hang out with. There's mystery to all this. It's different from a physical friend that you can text memes to. But this week, I invite you to let your guard down and enjoy some playful moments with Jesus, whatever it might look like for you. Rekindle the friendship, and see what happens. Jesus, help me let my guard down to enjoy walking alongside you today. Peace, Keith You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. - Jeremiah 29:13 For the past few months, a construction project has been blocking the lower entrance of our neighborhood. There was a drainage system that needed to be updated, so the entire road was closed and ripped up. It just finished up this week. The lower entrance is the main entrance for most people in our neighborhood. Many who daily took that route had to find a new way to get home. I'm sure it was frustrating to some, but in reality, there were other accessible ways to get to where they were headed. When the first route was forcibly shut down, new habits developed. I'm pretty sure that a few people in our neighborhood had never even driven out our upper entrance, and were surprised to find out how pretty and accessible it was! Road closures happen. It’s a part of life. There always seems to be a new construction project in our city, requiring some sort of detour. But this happens in our internal worlds as well. We have seasons where our ways of finding God seem to break down or dry up. Things are thrown into upheaval and our preferred routes are impassible. They limit the directions we can go to get home. And that's alright. Because God still meets us. In the 29th chapter of Jeremiah, the prophet is speaking to a people who have been living in exile after the Babylonians have carried them away. They are longing to go home to the safety and rest of Jerusalem, and also to once again be restored to their God. But God meets them in the limbo. Yes, he promises them that he is working to bring about justice and restoration, but it will be a windy road (70 years!) to get there. But then comes a reassurance- that even during their displacement, they will find him in the new places and pathways they are walking, as they seek him. They will find God in the detours. Sometimes we need reminded that God is in the detours. Many of us have used practices over the years that help us in our connection with Jesus. Sometimes it’s more typical ones like reading the Scriptures, sitting in prayer, or singing. Sometimes it’s something else, like experiencing nature, making art, listening to music, or having meaningful conversations. But what happens when one of your primary ways of experiencing God closes for a season? How do we respond when the thing that used to be a direct pathway to connection shuts down? When we try to take the route we’ve been taking, but we find that it has lost its meaning. It's a roadblock. One way the early saints described this was to call it a “dark night of the soul.” There wasn’t always an explanation for why it happened, but the reality was that God just seemed absent. Prayers were prayed, verses were read, sermons were heard, and faithful actions were lived… yet the feeling of God being distant remained. If you’ve had moments like that in your journey with Jesus, I want to encourage you today. It's far better to explore detours than to just park at the roadblock. The promise of God is that God is never far from us and longs to connect with us. And often it's in new avenues that we experience unexpected growth in love. Often we Christians lack the creativity to explore fresh ways of being with Jesus when some of our ways of seeking God have lost meaning. Here are a few simple routes to dwell with Jesus if you find the need for new pathways during this season.
Jesus, meet me on the journey, even when it feels impossible to arrive at a destination. Peace, Keith As he neared Damascus on his journey, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice say to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” “Who are you, Lord?” Saul asked. - Acts 9:3-5 Disclaimer: This is not in any way about the 1978 classic single from the band The Who, but if you've already started humming "who-who, who-who," go ahead and hit this clickbait link and it'll offer you 5 minutes of nostalgia. I had to stop and listen before I could go on, too. Ok, now for the real stuff. Good questions are the root of profound growth. Jesus seemed to know this, since he posed over 300 questions to his listeners throughout the gospels. But today is a reminder that some questions are so transformative that they may just change the course of our lives. Diana Butler Bass, in her book Freeing Jesus, reminds us of the story of Saul's (Paul's) conversion. This is the moment when an extremist for violent persecution and religious purity would become an extremist for love and grace. Saul is on his way to raid synagogues and capture anyone who belonged to The Way, which was the first name for the people of Jesus. And while he's heading toward Damascus, the post-resurrected Jesus meets him in a wave of blinding light that knocks him over. Bass notes how interesting it is that in the midst of this overwhelming encounter, the first words out of Saul's mouth aren't What do you want?? or What are you doing?? or even, What's happening??? AHHHHHHH!!! Rather, it's this: Who are you? That single starting point, she suggests, becomes the basis for the next 3 decades of Paul's life. In each missionary journey, in each attempt at starting small and messy church communities, Paul continues to work out that same question... who are you, Lord? And, at the risk of sounding like a heretic, I'd suggest that Paul comes to many different answers as the years and letters go by. As he should...because Jesus is so many things. Go ahead and read the New Testament to see what he concludes. The reason that Who are you? is such a powerful question is that it is about connection before anything else. Who is the one question that we must have an answer for before a relationship can begin, and certainly before love can flourish. We may have many other questions, but humans can only feel safe and grounded in relationship when we feel like we know who another person is. It's foundational for trust. It's deeper than basic information, and it's a question that requires ongoing exploration. I certainly know that who I am is not the same as it was fifteen years ago. In our discipleship, allowing ourselves to constantly ask "who are you, Jesus?" opens the door for ongoing growth in the deep places. Rather than simply quoting recited creeds, we are invited to pursue and experience Jesus in fresh ways throughout our entire lives. If we think that getting the information right about Jesus is more important than growing in formation with Jesus, we may go our entire lives never actually encountering who Jesus really is. And if we never get there, we may never get to the point of being so changed by that relationship that it carries over into a life of love, mercy, and grace to the world around us. What if you sat for a few prayerful moments this week and asked that profound question... Who are you, Lord? Perhaps it would provide an opportunity to notice where Jesus is meeting you in this chapter of your story. And perhaps you'll be surprised. Jesus, draw me into who you are, not simply to gain information, but so that I can walk more deeply with you. Peace, Keith "Thinking he was the gardener....” -John 20:15 On Easter Sunday, I shared about an often ignored detail in the resurrection story. Upon seeing the risen Jesus for the first time, Mary mistook him for a gardener. And I offered the perspective that perhaps, rather than it being a mistake, she was exactly right. Maybe the death-conquering, resurrected Lord of the earth was also kneeling in it, carefully preparing the soil for the slow process of bringing forth life. It seems appropriate to continue with this image for a little while this spring. People are emerging from their homes, the weather is warming up, and yards and gardens are once again coming alive. Now is a season where growth is a little more noticeable, though for several months, it's been all but invisible in the fields and forests around us. But all along, things have been happening. The resurrection is certainly a revolution- a flipping of the narrative of death and condemnation! But our subsequent journey with Jesus is often more evolution, if we're honest. We don't particularly like that part; a microwave-ready experience is easier than simmering a stew all day long. And talking endlessly about all the information we know is certainly easier than sitting quietly with Jesus, letting him slow us down and cultivate our character. But discipleship is a process and not a destination. And we often get stuck when we expect a revolution experience all the time. We need to embrace how Eugene Peterson described Christian discipleship: a long obedience in the same direction. That really doesn't sound like a revolution. That sounds like an incremental journey of lifelong movement. Perhaps we struggle with this process of growth because we've been sold a false narrative that suggests that if you're going to change, God will make it easy and pretty instantaneous. If we've been trained to only look and talk about revolution, we may miss the primary work that Jesus does as the resurrected gardener of our souls. Walking with Jesus can be both restful and difficult work. It requires intentionality. Becoming more aware, more compassionate, more grounded, more emotionally mature... these things are not instant coffee. They are cold brew. They are not supermarket purchases. They are garden cultivation. They are not a podcast listen. They are authoring a full length novel. It's slow, evolution type stuff. Jesus brings transformation to our spirits, our minds, and our actions. Sometimes it happens in significant jumps. But most of the time, it happens in microscopic little moments of obedience, where humility is more important than ego. It comes when we make the choice to love with a word or action in the smallest of ways. When we choose generosity at a moment when looking out for ourselves and our stuff would be easier. It comes in the moments of sitting with the words of Jesus even when we don't feel much. These are small seeds that Jesus will bring fruit out of. And before you know it, you might just look back and realize that in Christ you've become a new creation, as Paul stated it. Maybe our evolution is more revolutionary than we think. Let's intentionally lean into the process of discipleship with Jesus. And let's do better at celebrating the tiny moments of growth with the family of God around us. It can be incredibly inspiring to hear someone say, "yesterday I chose to turn off my phone for five minutes and write a prayer in my journal, laying down my stresses." Incremental moments bring fruit over time, and we need to share them! Resurrection takes many forms. Let's hang out in the garden with Jesus. Jesus, cultivate my spirit today so that my life reflects your heart and hands just a tiny bit more by nightfall. I trust you for growth. Peace, Keith |
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