A friend lamented to me this weekend that after driving through local neighborhoods and seeing "an explosion of lights" - she felt behind in her Christmas decorating.
Then she added, "I love it though." I think most of us do this time of the year, even people who aren't exactly Christmas believers. I think we all find something lovely in the lights. For many of us, even in the most ordinary of years - let alone a year that's come to not so affectionately be known as simply 2020 - the lights can signal hope. For Christmas believers, it's always a good time, and maybe this year more than ever for some, to ask ourselves if that hope comes in the form of a distraction at the end of a long year of life, or a beautiful reminder that there is much more to life. It's a good time to ask ourselves if the explosion of lights draws our attention outward, or begs us to take a moment and look inward. Look inward and examine our own personal role in the explosion. I was reading something from the book We Make the Road by Walking - Brian McLaren. McLaren says: "Christianity began as a movement to put people above profit, and made the audacious claim that the Earth belonged not to rich tycoons or powerful politicians, but to the Creator who loves every sparrow in the trees and every wildflower in the field. It was a peace movement, a love movement, a joy movement, a justice movement, an integrity movement, an aliveness movement." The lights signal the arrival of a baby in a manger. They signal the beginning of a movement. I feel challenged to not be distracted by the lights this year. I feel challenged to take inventory. I feel challenged to ask myself: What am I doing to move the world toward peace? What am I doing to love more people who need to feel loved? What am I doing to feel and share God's joy? What am I doing to ensure justice and integrity? Because the truth is, the lights can explode and make us feel alive for a season, but the real aliveness movement comes when we personally come alive in the name of peace and love and joy and justice and integrity. For many of us the lights are a symbol or our faith. They can also be a beautiful reminder of where and why that faith began.
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11/30/2020 0 Comments Crazy ideas may just be God's willThere are a lot of ideas I've left on the table of life because I was afraid of looking crazy. An idea would pop in my head, I'd think "that's crazy," and the idea would die.
Things have changed, though. Somewhere along the line I decided "that's crazy" was the perfect reason TO DO something. And what I've discovered is, a lot of those crazy ideas I had and dismissed weren't MY ideas at all, but God's. Almost every crazy idea I've pursued in the past couple of years has turned into something more God driven than I could have ever imagined. I say God driven because the ideas go in a direction I am completely incapable of taking them myself. So if you have a crazy idea in your head, don't immediately dismiss it as crazy. Pray about it. You might just discover it's not a crazy idea at all, but God's will. 11/29/2020 0 Comments Once you begin, you are.Several years ago, I had a kid who had been working for me as a youth counselor. When he left that position he told me he was going to medical school. He was going to be a doctor. He asked me if I'd write him a recommendation to support his application.
I gladly wrote him one. Some time later he told me he hadn't been accepted. After hearing that doing some service might boost his chances, he joined the Peace Corps and served as a health volunteer in the Amazon jungle of Ecuador - (While serving there he met his wife). When he returned, he asked me to write another recommendation. I did. His application was once again turned down. He began pursuing his masters degree in public health. He didn't want to sit still and hoped that doing so would boost his chances of getting into medical school. A year or so later, he asked me to write another recommendation. I did. This time he got in. I always admired that dude's willingness to just begin. He felt called to be a doctor. He also refused to sit around waiting for the calling to show up at his front door and drag him into the Colorado family medical center where he serves as a doctor today. And when he was delivered a setback - he began again. You know, in many ways running has changed my life. One of the important lessons it's taught me is an important order of things in life. I wasn't a runner. I went for a run. I was a runner. Running didn't show up and tap me on the head with a pair of Brooks running shoes and make me suddenly an anointed runner. I had to begin. And today, albeit far from elite, I am a runner. Most mornings I show up here to write - because I want to be a writer. Writing in the morning is a tangible reminder that once I begin, I am. Writing is a way of asking myself out loud each morning, who do I want to be today? What must I begin to be him? A new day has begun. With it comes your chance to begin. The most beautiful part about that is once you begin - you are. There's power in that. Every single day you have a chance to change who you are. That can sound overwhelming until you remember the order of things. Begin. Then you are. Just begin. Goff says this early on in his devotional today: "I'm not trying to be a theologian. I'm trying to be more like Jesus and follow the example of His life."
I think Goff has identified why there is such a sharp decline in Americans who identify as being Christians today. In a country that is full of hurt - I continue to say we have a hurting epidemic - Christians more and more want to offer biblical words as the solution and not the biblical love Jesus spent his whole life spreading. More and more lately, when people on the outside of our Christian circles are asked to pinpoint what it means to be a Christian, they think of politics or the man on the street corner screaming at them about salvation. That's because more and more, when those of us on the inside are charged to act like Christians, we want to tell people "what would Jesus do" instead of loving them like Jesus did. And here's the saddest part of that. In this epidemic of hurting, Christians are well represented. We're as hurting epidemic as the rest of them. I think that's because we're trying to scripture people to death about their own hurting while ignoring all that Jesus showed us about healing our own. Christianity isn't an educational experience. It's not at it's most powerful when we ask a group of people to pull up some chairs and let me tell you what Jesus said. It's at it's most powerful when we walk into the middle of a hurting epidemic and quietly show people how Jesus loved. And it's in the middle of that healing, it's in the middle of that joy that overcomes us when we're helping others, it's in the middle of that interaction when someone asks, hey, do you mind if I pull a chair up and ask you to tell me a little more about Jesus? Don't overlook the joy that comes from living your faith. Don't overlook the impact that joy has on others. I had a phone conversation with a friend yesterday. We don't talk often. When we do, though, when those conversations are over, I always feel a sense of peace.
I think it's because while we're talking, it doesn't feel like work. I'm not thinking of the right things to say. I'm not trying to make her think or feel a certain way about me. There's a certain energy - a life maybe - that comes from the voice that flows completely unrestricted by the walls of pretending. When I'm done talking to her, I always feel loved. And the thing is, I don't feel loved by her - as much as I'm sure I am - I just feel loved. It's a love I don't feel compelled to analyze, but simply absorb. And I know that love - that is God's love. I'm hearing these words to the Cory Asbury song Canyons: And I've scaled all the highest of mountains And I've stood at the edge of their peaks But I still couldn't see to the edge of Your love for me And I've walked on the wildest of waters And I've sunk to the depths of the sea But I still couldn't fathom the depths of Your love for me That is God's love. It's a love we can't see. It's one we can't fathom. But that can often leave us feeling more exhausted than loved. Because we ARE looking for love we can see - and we ARE looking for love we can fathom - we are climbing for it and striving for it and pretending for it. After getting off the phone with my friend, I always wonder for a bit - how does she do that? How does she make God's love seem so truly present in my life without ever once offering a cliché like "God loves you." I wonder that because I'd like to be someone who can truly feel God's presence like that all the time. And maybe more than that, I'd like to be someone who can make God's presence be that truly felt in someone else's life all the time. The only answer I ever come up with is grace. This is a friend who is a long way from being God - she'd be the first to tell you that - but many times when I'm done talking to her I feel like I just talked to God. Because in a conversation where there could have been judgment there was none. In conversations that often require understanding and even from time to time forgiveness - it's always there. And when my life needs a little direction - and maybe even re-direction - that direction comes with a nudge and not a scream or a threat. God's love is so hard for us to get - and feel - and fathom - because we are so used to love being something that's costly in our lives. We are so used to having to work for love, that God's love, which isn't offered in response to effort, can get lost in all of our climbing and striving and pretending. We are each other's reminder of that - the reminder that you don't have to work so hard for love. We are each other's reminder that God's love is present. And that in our pretending to one another in the name of love, we are missing out on the most authentic love of all. We are each other's reminder that in a crazy world where people are running all over one another looking for love - love is found in the stopping. It's found in meeting each other where we are. It's found in the gentle nudges and not the screams. It's found in friends. This morning, Goff tells the story of how when his daughter was young he wrote letters to her covering all the bad things he could think of that might happen in the years ahead. Then he buried the letters in the front yard.
One day she wrecked his car. So he took her out in the front yard and together they dug up the note declaring he forgave her - a note he'd written a decade earlier. That's a pretty radical approach to grace. Years in advance decide I'm forgiving someone for whatever they do. I had a conversation with a friend about forgiveness yesterday. I told her I'd learned that forgiveness isn't about clearing the air about things or fixing things or even about two people agreeing on who was right or wrong. Forgiveness is a personal decision we make within ourselves to free up space to love. Lack of forgiveness, a lack of grace - that eats up space that can love. Lots of it. I'm not sure anything robs us of our capacity to love more than a lack of forgiveness. I love that when Goff's daughter wrecked the car he didn't even have to deal with analyzing the situation to decide whether he should forgive her or not - since he already had he could move full steam ahead with loving her. He's not the first one to have that idea, you know. Jesus died on the cross to say from this point forward you're forgiven. I've already buried letters of grace in every front yard you'll ever live in. I don't have time to withhold grace from you when I could spend that time loving you. What if we started with today. At our family gatherings. On the drive to those gatherings. Friends who've wronged us. Something the kids will say or do today. What if today we skipped the step of figuring out if we should forgive them and move right on to loving them. In the process of doing that - know - know beyond a doubt - through Christ we've already been offered that same gift. 11/27/2020 0 Comments its one thing to be grateful when life is going well, quite another when you lose a daughterA friend sent me this saying this morning.
Gratitude is born in the hearts that take the time to count past mercies. This is a great day for me to slow down and count the incredible mercies of this day. I had the honor of speaking to a MOPS (Mothers of Pre-Schoolers) in Blacksburg, VA. The topic - gratitude. It was fitting, talking to a group of young moms, because I discovered gratitude when our first son was born. Babies make you stop and count mercies. Especially the way our first baby arrived. I'm grateful to my friend Kimberly Caldwell for inviting me. Before I left this morning I deposited a check I received in the mail from my friend Jodi Stoner. It was the proceeds from her Run to Jodi's House Half Marathon that she generously gave me to support my TwoTim47.com mission. When I hit that deposit button, I was overwhelmed with gratitude. With her heart for serving others. Here's the miracle in today's mercies. I met Kim and Jodi through my Megsmiles family. A group formed when a young mom - herself active in MOPS - was hit and killed by a motorist while she was out running. In closing today, I talked to the group about how our grateful hearts can change the world. I talked about Romans 12:11-12 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. I gave an example of a woman whose gratitude has impacted my life. I talked about the joy she finds in the hope of Christ, her unwavering patience in affliction, and her incredible prayer life. That woman is Meg's mom Pamela Terrell Cross. In spite of all the tragedy she's faced, she remains a life of gratitude. It's one thing to be grateful when life is going well. It's quite another to be so when you lose a daughter. Faith and gratitude like that - well it changes the people around you. Take time to count your mercies today. 11/27/2020 0 Comments What are you a fan of?I've always been a big Notre Dame football fan. I watch every game, keep up with recruiting in the offseason, and ride the peaks and valleys of the wins and losses that come with being a sports fan.
The word FAN became popular in reference to baseball enthusiats. It's a shortened version of the word FANATIC. The meaning of fanatic is where things get interesting: "marked by excessive enthusiasm and often intense uncritical devotion" Sunday morning I was reading social media where Notre Dame football fans were sharing their thoughts about the loss to Stanford the night before. And wow, talk about uncritical devotion. Many Notre Dame fans were expressing their enthusiasm for the team through vicious attacks on the Notre Dame coach Brian Kelly, and the administration that continues to employ him. Reading them I could feel the raw emotions behind their words: hate, anger, ill will, furor.... Here's an even deeper look at the word fan - the origin of the word fanatic is the Latin word Fanaticus, meaning "insanely but divinely inspired." It originally pertained to a temple or sacred place. I got to thinking about that irony this morning. How many things are we fans of - fanatic about - that take us away from things we are divinely inspired to do? Or, asked another way, what would happen if we took the emotions we pour into our fanaticism for our sports teams and applied it to our love for God? I've come a long way with my sports fanaticism. My wife would likely suggest I could be even more critical about my devotion there. So I'll definitely keep the questions in mind as we enter college bowl and NFL playoff and Super Bowl season. What we are fans of, and how we express our fanaticism, says a lot about who we are. I've been listening to a song the past couple of weeks: "Honest" by Influence Music.
It might be the best titled song ever - because the honesty of it, the rawness of it, has hit me each time I've listened to it. I write a lot about my faith. And I think maybe at times I give the false impression that my faith comes easy, that it's easy to believe the things I believe, when in reality, most days believing is one of the hardest things I do. There was a day I didn't believe so much the things I believe today. Those days were easier in many ways. Because when you start believing in the God I believe in, then you're believing in someone who says he loves you more than anyone possibly can. But then, with that comes someone to blame when life doesn't go the way you want it to, or doesn't make you feel the way you think you should be allowed to feel. It's hard enough to grasp why the people around us would leave us hurting, or would hurt one another, but how could a God who created us all, created us all because he loved us even before we were in the womb, how could he be OK with any of us hurting at all? And I hope you're not afraid of my questioning. But I gotta be honest Believing is hard to do But there's another side of that equation for me. Another question. Along with who gets the blame is who can I thank for the miracles in my life, the miracles that appear over and over. I had a conversation with a work colleague yesterday. We were talking about the miracles happening in people's hurting lives in her community because of some of the work her and her team are doing. I had tears. The emotions boiled over right there. Who do I thank for that? Who do I thank on my morning walk when I look up at the moon and the stars and the sun rising in the distance - awed by it all? Who do I thank when a life gone so astray can sit and have conversations with young people about my darkness with hopes it will bring light to THEIR darkness? Who do I thank when a baby who came into the world with no life is now running up and down a basketball court these days? Who do I thank for another day, another opportunity to write right here, to share doubt, to share miracles? The hard part about believing is navigating the gulf between blame and gratitude. The hard part about believing is accepting the maker of the miracles is willing to allow the pain that often precedes them. But - this is the God - this God I believe in - who allowed his Son to die on a cross as part of the plan to bring miracles into my life. That makes the believing easier. But to be honest, believing is still really hard. 11/27/2020 0 Comments adversity is the bridge to perspectiveYesterday, for Thanksgiving, I wrote: "gratitude is something we do in the face of struggles and not something that magically sweeps over us once we've overcome them."
I realize when we are in the face of struggles it's hard to hit the pause button and instantly start meditating on gratitude. So how do we face our struggles with gratitude? I think it starts with trust. It starts with realizing most of our struggles are rooted in us having no idea where the struggles are going. That scares us. It confuses us. We humans aren't big fans of surprise endings. So, I think gratitude starts with being able to trust that the struggle that makes no sense today - one day will. I love the bible story about Joseph. This is a several chapter story in Genesis - but the summary goes something like this: Joseph is the youngest brother of many brothers. His older brothers are jealous of him because dad seems to like him more. So the brothers come up with a plot to kill him. Only they don't kill him - they sell him into slavery. In slavery he ends up serving a king - then thrown in prison - then back to serving a king. The story of Joseph is full of adversity. It is full of "where on earth is this struggle going?" Then one day there is a famine. And Joseph is in a position to provide food for the brothers that tried to kill him - ah, the perfect spot for revenge - and his brothers fully expected that's what was coming. But Joseph tells them this: "Don’t you see, you planned evil against me but God used those same plans for my good, as you see all around you right now—life for many people. Easy now, you have nothing to fear; I’ll take care of you and your children.” For Joseph, a couple of decades of struggle suddenly make sense to him. He had no idea in the midst of those struggles this moment was coming - but he did trust a moment was coming that would make sense of his struggle. So Joseph always kept plowing ahead in faith. When you collect enough of those moments in life where adversity leads you to perspective, you can begin to be thankful for the adversity. There was a day in my life when I hated running distances. It was too hard. Now I know that was a way of helping me later in life use running to know nothing is too hard. It's a way for me to help others know the same. There was a day I abused alcohol - destructively so. All the while saying "this isn't a problem." Today it's a story I can tell to young people who frequently tell me "this isn't a problem." There was a day that having kids was the last thing on earth I wanted. Kids would ruin a perfectly good life. Today, I know my kids did and continue to save my life. When I look at my story - my story of adversity, I know I shouldn't be scared or confused by struggles. I should be thankful for them. Because although they are leading me somewhere I don't understand - and I know they are leading me to a surprise ending - I can trust they are leading me to a place where I'll understand the story of my life better than I ever have. That might be a tough bridge to be traveling. But one nonetheless worthy of being thankful for. |
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
November 2024
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