I told a friend the other day, we get in these places in life that are new. Situations we've never faced. They feel foreign. Foreign enough that we can get to wondering if we're even supposed to be in this place.
Is this where God wants me to be? I think part of that - maybe even a lot of that - comes from wondering if I am somehow messing up God's plan. Not God's plan for me, but just God's overall master plan. I mean, if I'm not where God intended me to be, then God's plan is no longer where God intended IT to be. In the middle of our conversation, I felt the ridiculousness of that suggestion. This idea that somehow I - Keith - could mess up God's plan. There's an arrogance to that, I think. And some self-destructiveness. When we get to wondering if we've made a mess of God's plan, we have no other way of looking at this new place we're in as anything but a mess. When we get to believing our tracks aren't pointed to God's track, we have no way of feeling other than - off track. Here's something that struck me in our conversation. Much of my life HAS BEEN off track. Yet, all of my life HAS BEEN pointed to God's track. I've come to know, on those thousands of days when my life has felt like a wreck, God has never once seen me as a wreck. God has just kept working. Shepherding. Putting his hands on the small of my back or taking my hand or maybe even a time or two taking hold of my ears - one way or another - God has always been there saying, follow me. To us sometimes, following feels distant. To God, following always feels like a hug. We need to remember that when we get in these new places. We need to remember that while we're in something new, we're also in the middle of a hug. While we're in the middle of something new, feeling like nothing is working, something IS working. God. So go easy on yourself. Be patient with the process. Look forward to the day when following feels like a hug to you too. Because no matter how new something feels in this moment, it's always headed for that familiar embrace. That's God's plan. No matter where we feel like we are in that plan right now, we're right where God wants us. Just close enough for a hug.
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1/19/2022 0 Comments Keep Your ForkA friend sent me a story yesterday from a Chicken Soup for the Soul Book about a fork. As a result, I now have a fork sitting next to my keyboard where I write and work.
Why? Well, as the story goes, a dying woman was meeting with her pastor to help prepare for her upcoming funeral. The woman asked to be buried with a fork in her right hand. Of course, the pastor was puzzled by this. The young woman explained. ‘My grandmother once told me this story, and from that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming, like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!’ ‘So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, ‘What’s with the fork?!’ Then I want you to tell them: ‘Keep your fork. The best is yet to come.’ After reading that story from my friend, I'm reminded that we often forget the best is yet to come, or we get to believing the best is never going to come. We get to believing this NOT because it's true, but often because our mind gets set on expecting the worst in life. Maybe because we've lived through a period that wasn't the best and it's hard to imagine a better life beyond it. This fork story reminds me that more important than changing our lives to experience the best, we often have to start with our minds. This woman's dying wish was that her friends would pass by her casket and change their outlook on life. She wanted them to walk away believing they were a whole lot closer to their best life than they were when they walked up to her. I was winding down yesterday and started to pick up the clutter that inevitably gathers around my work area. I hastily picked up that fork, ready to toss it in the sink. Then it hit me - the best is yet to come. And I sat that fork back down. What physical reminders do you have sitting next to you? What reminders do you carry in your pocket or in your purse? What song do you turn on or what book do you read? What is your reminder that the best is yet to come? Keep hold of your reminder. Because sometimes we don't get down because life is down, we get down because our mind starts believing it is. Sometimes we get to believing that because we didn't keep our fork. So today - grab your fork. And keep it. I think Jesus and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. have a lot in common. One of those things is they were both very quotable, but neither of them wanted their legacies captured in quotes. Both of them wanted their legacies captured in change.
I wrote the following article last year on Martin Luther King Jr. Day. I wrote it in response to his quote: "An individual has not started living until he can rise above the confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity." I think today, the day after reading a lot of Dr. King's quotes, is a good day to reflect on the legacy he truly wanted: change. I wrote... ******* I'm kind of a numbers guy. I like data. I love math. And so when I read this quote this morning from Martin Luther King Jr., believe it or not, numbers came to mind. My numbers. So I wondered to myself, if there were two columns - one column where I made a mark for every time in my life I've fought to address a concern I had about ME and MY situation in life, and then another column where I made a mark for every time I've fought to address the concerns I had about the broader concerns of ALL humanity - essentially people not named 'me' - what percentage of those marks would be in the 'me' column? After crunching the data, I'd say I've lived a large portion of my life confined by individual concerns. A scary large portion. Martin Luther King Jr. says, “Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.” In other words, he's saying when we live in this place confined by concerns for ourselves, that is a dark place. It is destructive. But we can all make a choice to walk in the light of being concerned about others. There is no one reading this right now who has ever been more self-centered and selfish and destructive than I have been in my life. But I can also say, over the last several years, I've become more concerned about all of humanity. I've become more concerned about what other people have gone through in their past, and what they are going through this very moment. I've spent more time listening to other people tell me about their pain, and less time letting life seemingly strangle me with mine. I have NOT been able to solve the concerns of all humanity, but I'll say this. The moment you start putting more marks in that column of being genuinely concerned about others more than you are about yourself, you start seeing and feeling a light. A new light. I've come to know that light as life. You actually get to start living. You know, us Christians have this intimidating and overly religious saying about being "born again." It's often offered as sort of a threat on your life. Like, if you're not born again you're not getting into heaven. I listened to a sermon yesterday and the speaker said "the kingdom tool is sacrificial love." His point was, this Jesus who came to earth so that we could be "born again" - modeled that the way to be "born again" was to give up all concerns about self and start re-investing ALL of those concerns into others. The entire ministry of Jesus is a story of a man who sacrificed all concerns for PERSONAL well-being to demonstrate nothing but concern and love for ALL human beings. Jesus demonstrated this idea of "born again" isn't about eternal life - it's about THIS life. Being born again isn't about walking through the gates of heaven, it's about walking out of the gates that confine us in selfishness, and through the gates that confine others in hurt and suffering and oppression and hopelessness. Light and living are a choice. Mathematically speaking, it's choosing to put our marks in a different column. I had a challenging work experience this week involving an engagement with someone in a workshop I was leading. The challenge led me to question my character, which then felt like someone was questioning my character, and ultimately led me to feel like I was being attacked.
When you feel like you're being attacked - the person on the other end instantly becomes an enemy. For me, having enemies is not a comfortable place to be. So I spend time processing challenges like that. Some things I've taken away as I've worked through this particular engagement: Many challenges between individuals come about because people have differing points of view. Literally - they look at life through a different lens. Many battles take place because we think the other person - and maybe ALL persons - should look at life through the same lens we do. I'm reminded this week there is a value in knowing the point in a conversation where common ground is no longer possible. There comes a point when it's obvious one or both people have no interest in the other person's ground. A conversation beyond that point has a far better chance at creating enemies than it does at forging understanding. I'm not a big fan of quitting, but there is a healthy point for two people to quit having conversations - and that point isn't always at the point of understanding or agreement - other than the agreement that any talking beyond this point is going to do more harm than good. I'm also reminded standing our ground isn't nearly as important as HOW we stand our ground. At least if our motive is to avoid making enemies out of the people who have no interest in sharing our ground. I've been watching the show Yellowstone. It's interesting - most of the first season was introducing us to how beautiful the land is the Dutton family lives on - and how much it means to them. The three seasons since then have been about the lengths they will go to make enemies out of anyone who doesn't honor their land the way they do, and how many people they are willing to kill in the name of standing their ground. The show has quickly shifted from what they stand for to the lengths they are willing to go to stand for it. I'm also reminded of this. An enemy isn't a person. An enemy is a way we choose to look at a person. I'm several days removed from my challenging experience, now. The experience hasn't changed. The challenging memories haven't faded. I'd bet my life the other person hasn't changed their views on the things we disagreed about. But my view of the person has changed. This person is not an enemy, they are a chance for me to learn and grow. Chances are we will never interact again. Sometimes loving our enemy means loving ourselves enough to stay out of fights we can never win. Sometimes love doesn't look like love - it looks like taking every measure we can to avoid hate. It's also useful to remember this: it's easy for a challenging person to turn from a lesson to an enemy. That's why it's really helpful to keep in mind - that challenging person is sometimes us.... I was sitting in Panera eating dinner last night. A ding on my phone lets me know I have a message. The message says:
"Heard something powerful just now - worth sharing. One person asked if the storms ever stop. And the response they got was no, but neither do the rainbows." I sat there for a moment. Thought about how timely that message was. And how it wasn't so random at all, really. I went home. Fixed myself a bowl of ice cream. Turned on the TV. I've been on and off watching a show on Netflix called Sweet Magnolias. There was this scene. One woman in the scene had just lost someone close to her. She was sad. A friend lay down next to her. The two of them, just lying there. Quiet. Then, the sad friend asked the friend next to here: "Do the storms ever stop coming?" Her friend turned her head slightly to see her. And then she said, "no" -(a pause)- "but neither do the rainbows." It was one of those experiences where your world stops for just a moment. A moment when you know you're in the middle of a coincidence so giant that it can't possibly be a coincidence. A moment when I'm reminded that God doesn't mind repeating himself. In that moment, in reflecting more on WHY that moment than WHAT actually happened in it, I concluded three things. One - God was reminding me - yes, life is stormy, Keith. But a rainbow is coming. I've heard God saying that to me often the past year or so - something amazing is coming. I now have a feeling it's going to be colorful. Two - eight years ago today, a dear friend of mine lost her daughter. Her daughter was hit and killed while out running. In many ways, that moment changed the trajectory of my life. But more than that moment ever could, my friend has changed my life. She has been a constant reminder that the storms don't stop coming. But more than any human I know - she is a reflection of the rainbows that are never far behind. I'm thankful for that. I've depended on that. And three - there is you. You reading this. It's quite possible you are in the middle of a storm. Maybe another in a series of storms. You are wondering, do these storms ever end? I can't take another one. I feel you, friend. But be reminded, your rainbow is coming. Weathering the storms is hard - sometimes all we have to hold onto is the promise of that rainbow. But please know - please believe - that is a promise that WILL NOT be broken. Your rainbow is coming. Do the storms ever stop coming? No. But neither do the rainbows...... The problem with confining our beliefs to only what we can experience - well, some of us don't have consistently great experiences. In fact, some of us would rarely call our experiences great.
Add to that - especially for those who would rarely call their experiences great - there are a lot of us who don't feel like we have a whole lot of control over our experiences. So for many, shrinking belief to experiences - to what one has actually seen and done and felt - that doesn't always come with a hope that future experiences are going to be kind. And when you grow to anticipate life isn't going to be kind, you can start to believe life IS unkind. There is an alternative. There's a belief in a promise that all of our experiences are being funneled into an experience that will be great. God's promise that he's working all things to the good of the people who love him. I suppose some of us turn to that belief because, well, what do I have to lose. The things I've seen aren't promising - maybe this promise from the unseen offers some hope. Or, maybe you're like me, and you turn to the invisible promise because you've seen it made visible in your life too many times to ignore it. You've seen light suddenly show up in dark too many times to ignore it. You've seen brokenness made whole. Drunkeness made sober. Lost made sane. Too many times than you can count, you've seen your experiences turn for the good - a good you didn't ask for - a good you didn't see coming - a good that was beyond any control you have over your experiences. In spite of those invisible experiences in my life - I confess I'm still prone to shrink my belief to the level of what I can see and feel and touch. Hopelessness seems to be the warning sign I feel when I'm headed there. And that's when I remind myself. That's when I turn it over to a God who always expands my belief to the level of his promise. He always directs my experiences into a funnel pointing to goodness I never saw coming. I talk to a lot of people who want to make a change in their life or have an idea they want to pursue or an activity they've always wanted to take up. But - they'll tell me, the time just isn't right.
Then I tell them. I have some really bad news about your change or that idea or that activity. It's never going to happen, because the time will never be right. As someone who has fewer minutes left in his life than I've already had - I can confidently tell you something about time. Time is really tough to look back on when you find yourself staring at time you spent accepting things because you decided it was bad timing to change things. It's tough to look back on time you didn't make better use of because you decided that wasn't the perfect time to make better use of. The reality is, change is scary. Tackling something new is scary. Launching something that might fail is scary. And there is no better excuse in the world to avoid all of that scary stuff than "the timing sucks right now." As someone who has waited on a lot of better or perfect timing in life to tackle scary things, I want to let you in on a secret. Maybe offer advice. When I finally tackled a lot of those scary things - because I did and continue to tackle a lot of them - it wasn't because the timing got better, it was because I got bolder. It wasn't because the timing got better, it was because I woke up one day realizing how comfortable I'd grown with imperfect timing. And the more you start to believe the timing in your life sucks, the more you can start believing some parts of your life are just supposed to suck. That is a lie you tell yourself. One that is easy to start believing. It's Monday. There is something you want to take on this week. Something you want to change. But, you're probably already trying to tell yourself that's a change better put on hold until next week. Or next month. Until some Monday when you wake up realizing you've come to accept the thing you once wanted to change. If that happens, let me rule out a myth about that ahead of time. It won't be because of bad timing. It will be because you found it easier to accept bad timing than to demand time treat you better. Now that you know that myth ahead of time, dismiss it. Demand time treat you better. Accept that the timing will always suck, but you don't - so forge ahead. You are only assured this minute. Just this one you are in. What difference does it make if the timing of this minute sucks or not. Do something with it. Something you've always been afraid to do. I'm getting ready to go run. It will be my first run of the new year. It will end - I believe - the longest runless days streak I've had since I took running up in 2014.
And - it will bring some much welcome fuel to my joy. I've written lately about the difference between happiness and joy. Happiness is something that happens externally that makes us feel good - but usually only briefly. Joy - joy happens internally. It's usually something we choose, and it brings us a sense of wellness and contentment that long outlasts happiness. I watched the last episode of season 4 of Yellowstone last week. It was entertaining while I watched it. I felt happy. But that happiness didn't last much beyond the final credits. It didn't fuel my sense of wellness much beyond the show. Don't get me wrong. I think there's a place - a need - for those brief shots of happiness in our lives. Some days we need the ability to plop on the couch, escape our worlds, and enter the world of Yellowstone. (Even if you risk an unfriendly encounter with Beth 😮). But what we need most in our lives, I think, are the places WE create that are are more refuge than escape. Places that might not always leave us feeling happy, but always leave us feeling well. And safe. It's 20 degrees out there right now. Oh, I'll always choose that over 80. But trust me, the plop on the couch does sound more inviting at the moment. But I know the couch won't fuel me. The couch will make me briefly happy while I'm on it, but it won't fuel the joy I need when I inevitably rise from it and tackle my day. My run will do that. Whether it makes me happy or not. Whether it feels fun in the moment or not. It will fuel my joy. I have found that out about running, so I do more of it. What fuels your joy? If you know, do more of that thing. If you don't know, I'd likely try abandoning some of the things that make you happy, and experiment with some things that might fuel your joy. Once you discover the things that bring you joy - you can choose to do them. You no longer have to wait around on season 5 of Yellowstone. You no longer have to wait around on happiness. 1/7/2022 0 Comments HumilityYesterday, I watched the news reflect on the events at the capitol one year ago. This morning, I reflected on the words I wrote the morning after those events. They were some of my most read words last year. Maybe others will benefit from reading them again as well.
***** I was driving back from eating dinner with my buddy Solomon last night. It was our first dinner of the new year. It should have been a celebration. And although I treasured our time together as much as ever, the drive home was different. I didn't feel joy. I was driving south on I-95. Over in the northbound lanes, I saw endless streams of blue flashing lights. In straight line after straight line, Virginia State Police cars - no less than 100 of them - were racing north. I'd listened to the news on the way to dinner. I knew where they were headed. In moments like that, when life feels like nothing more than darkness and flashing lights, it's hard to wrestle complicated emotions into mere words. There was helpless, confused, hopeless, fatherhood, lost.... There were a lot of words. Frankly, the right one didn't come to me until the flashing lights were long gone. You know, I'm an American. As I listened to the news yesterday, and read what my American friends wrote on social media, it became clear to me there's a lot of confusion these days about what exactly it means to be an American. I'm also a Christian. As I listened to Christian commentators yesterday, and read what my Christian friends were writing on social media, it became clear to me there's a lot of confusion these days about what exactly it means to be a Christian. Early Jesus followers were confused too. The savior they'd waited centuries for was supposed to come free them from the government - from Roman rule. They were waiting on a savior who would take a stand for the Jewish faith - he'd fight for his country. So when Jesus told them he wasn't here to install his government, or to fight anyone for his country or his faith - that he was simply going to die - the number of true believers started dwindling. I was reminded last night, the flashing lights in my rearview mirror, Jesus DID come to fight. But he didn't come to fight for or against anything outside of me - he came to fight the rulers that often overtake the insides of me. He came to fight the feelings of hatred and revenge and contempt and hopelessness and helplessness and confusion - all the emotions that rule over my daily actions far more frequently than my government or my faith does. Jesus didn't come to defeat a system or its rulers, he came to adopt me. He came not to rule over me, but to be the rule within me. In his final hours, when Jesus looked down at the government rulers, and on the many people feeling defeated as the government went about killing the man they were sure was going to kill the government, and as Jesus took his last breaths and announced it was finished, he was making sure we all knew his rule was based on one word - one word lacking any confusion: humility. I had a friend last night shoot me a message as I was driving home. She said, I can't wrap my head around all of this. I thought about Jesus on that cross. And I told her I don't think it's our heads that are supposed to wrap around any of this - it's our hearts. Because as I drove on, the images of those blue flashing lights lingering in the night like a leftover nightmare, I was less clear than ever what it meant to be an American - I couldn't wrap my head around that - and I was less clear than ever what it meant to be a Christian - I couldn't wrap my head around that either - but I was more clear than ever what it meant to be Jesus. Father forgive them, for they don't know what they're doing - some of Jesus' final words as he died on the cross. I think he was saying - father, they have something ruling inside them that is not humility. And then he died, apparently - without so much as a fight. He just died. Last night, when I needed it most, Jesus reminded me that, oh - there was a fight - one that continues inside me to this day. The fight to make sure my life is ruled by humility - humility, and nothing less. It's not easy, but that's something I can wrap my heart around. We've had a lot of uncertainty around these parts this week.
When will the power come back on? When will I get off this highway? When will these kids go back to school? We've also had some ongoing uncertainty - when will this Covid finally go away? And personally, if I've had nothing else the last couple of years, I've had plenty of uncertainty. Here's the thing about us and God and uncertainty - at least I believe. In our uncertainty, we're often banging our heads against the wall. Yet in our uncertainty, God is often preparing himself for a visit from us. Which I think makes him happy. I've come to discover this about certainty in my life. It usually comes when I feel like 'I' have things under control. Work is going well. Relationships are good. I'm running without pain. I'm not stranded in a snowstorm. It's usually when I start feeling like 'I' am losing control of things that life begins to feel uncertain - and when I say - oh shoot, I forgot about God. Hey God, life is kind of a mess again. Uhm, I could use your help here. I don't think God minds that. At all. If either of my boys tried to create certainty in their lives by tackling it the way they see fit- they are teens, so I don't think this is at all hypothetical - and then they turned to me for guidance when life fell apart - I'd feel some distress about their situation, but I'd be smiling knowing they chose to turn to me. Because here is the thing, God didn't create us for ideal circumstances. God created us for an ideal relationship. He didn't create us to walk together on the road of certainty, he created us to be able to look at one another and say, "we're about to rock the hell out of uncertainty." God knows when we get to a place of not knowing what is coming our way, he's pretty sure we are about to come his way. And we need to know, he NEVER gets tired of us coming his way. Our God is not a "here he comes again" God. That's because first and foremost God loves us. He also does it as a model for our relationships. I've read about so many stories this week of friends welcoming friends in their spaces of uncertainty. Friends being "I'm glad you're here" friends - not "here they come again" friends. Life isn't about certainty. I have to tell you, there's no such thing. Certainty is something we create in our minds to make us feel safer about life. No, life is actually about rocking the hell out of uncertainty together - with God and with one another. When we discover that, life never feels safer. Believe me... I know. |
Robert "Keith" CartwrightI am a friend of God, a dad, a runner who never wins, but is always searching for beauty in the race. Archives
May 2024
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