​On this next to last day of 2020, maybe more than ever, people are mapping out their path to a better 2021. The end of the year is always a good time to map out the best road to take to get me where I want to go - the goals and strategies and outcomes - but equally important - I would say more - it's also a good time to decide who I want to be on my way there.

Often, who we are is defined by how we treat people on our way to wherever it is we're going. It's defined by how we interact with others as we pursue what we want for ourselves.

John Maxwell suggests that there are three roads we follow when it comes to the way we treat others:

Low road - we treat people worse than they treat us.
Middle road - we treat people the same as they treat us.
High road - we treat people better than they treat us.

When I read this, and reflected on me, I thought - too often the road I choose is driven more by the person I'm interacting with than the road I've chosen for my life. Like, you're kind of a jerk so I'm going to walk with you on my low road. Or, hey, you've always been good to me, so I'll be good to you - step over hear and let me take you for a walk on my high road. It's beautiful this time of year.

Maxwell is suggesting that's not how it should work. He's suggesting we should choose to travel a road that defines how we engage with others as a way of protecting ourselves from others dictating the road we travel.

Proverbs 19:11 does a great job of defining the high road, I think:

A person’s wisdom yields patience;
it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense.

I think a lot of us are good at that in some situations. In a challenging moment in time, we say "I'm going to take the high road here. I'll overlook this one." But I think Maxwell is talking more about building character than he is about building responses to certain people in certain situations.

And if I think about Jesus, after I think about the word love, high road pretty quickly comes to mind. Jesus always seemed to be operating under the philosophy of I'm going to treat you better than you treat me. I mean the guy took the high road hanging on a cross. Not because that's how he was choosing to die, but because that's how he'd always chosen to live.

I like to take simple phrases with me into a new year to help guide and remind me - of where I want to go and who I want to be.

I think high road will be one of those simple phrases this year. As a reminder that no matter where I map out to go in the new year, the high road's the one I want to take to get there.

​It's that magical end of the year time. That time when we start looking into a new year, embracing the opportunity for a new beginning. The chance to be a new person. Trade old unhealthy habits and hangups in for healthier ones that fulfill us.

For some reason, this time of the year possibility seems more possible, change seems more changeable. As you enter into imagining these possibilities and changes, let me offer something I've learned the last several years through running.

Don't write down WHAT you want to do differently, first write down WHY you want to do it.

I used to hate running. That's because running used to be WHAT I had to do - and for the most part - WHAT others were doing that I completely avoided.

Then I started running and I discovered WHY I do it. There are days running is still a real chore for me, WHAT I'm doing isn't enjoyable and it's seemingly without value - a race with no finish line in sight. When that happens, I don't focus on fixing the WHAT, but I reflect intensely on the WHY I'm doing it.

In running, I have quiet. I have a space to hear God and feel like he can genuinely see through the noise in my life and gather in all that is often overwhelming me. In running I have health. I find the inspiration in running that fuels me to tackle every other area of my life - even as the inevitable daily obstacles rise up against me.

Next year I want to feel closer to God, be my healthiest self and have a daily and tangible reminder that obstacles in life can truly be run over on the way to the finish line. Those are my WHYS.

When my WHAT gets tiring and boring and seemingly getting me nowhere - I will remember my WHYS. I may lose some interest in WHAT I'm doing - but WHY - WHY I'm doing it is too much a part of who I am to lose interest in that.

So write down the why that's fueling your what. If you don't know why, don't do it. Move on. If your why isn't big enough your what will never happen.

​As I sit here writing this, I know this is my big moment.

Whether or not anyone reads this, whether or not these words ever find themselves on the page of a book or a magazine, whether or not these words ever have an impact beyond their transport from keyboard to screen, I know this is my big moment.

Writing here is good life practice for me. It puts me face to face with a potentially challenging moment in time. Will they like what I write? Will the words make any difference at all? Am I wise enough to dare to offer wisdom? Is my moment actually the making of a fool?

It's not. Because what I've come to discover about these moments, and mainly through writing, is the biggest mistake we can make in the moments we are made for in life - is to not show up for them. Is to foolishly believe this is NOT my moment.

Well if not mine, whose? If my life hasn't brought me to and prepared me for - this very moment - who on earth has it prepared for it.

Sometimes I get to thinking I missed my big moment in life. I worry that while I was waiting on it to arrive I missed the golden opportunity to see I was already in it. I wonder how many times, while I was asking God to prepare me for my big day, he was shaking his head and under his breath saying, "when will he realize he's already in it."

Every moment. Every day. We have a choice - a belief to adopt. We can believe this is our moment, one we are made for and completely ready for - or - we can believe this is someone else's moment - they're a better choice for this moment than me.

We can see our moment and run and hide from it. Sure. Sit in the dark and come up with a 1000 reasons why this is not my moment.

Or we can face it - our moment - every moment - with only one good reason to stand toe to toe with it.

Because this is a moment I was made for.

​Do you have someone in your life who knows you? Truly knows who you are?

I'm not talking about someone who knows your hobbies - or someone who knows what color shirt you like to wear to work on Mondays - or even someone who knows your favorite flavor of ice cream - as interesting as all of those things are to learn about someone.

No, I'm talking about someone who knows YOU. Someone who knows your flaws and your failures. Someone who knows the hurts you've experienced and the hurts you've caused. Someone who knows the reasons you hate to look in a mirror. Someone who knows not just the secrets you've told but the secrets you hold.

Do you have someone who knows THAT you?

And then that person who knows THAT you, chooses to love you not in spite of but because of it all.

If you have that, you have the greatest blessing this world can offer. But more than that, you have a beautiful glimpse into the world beyond this one.

You ever wonder why God, if his sole purpose in life is to love us and to be loved back by us, you ever wonder why he came to this world as a human and not as a God? You ever wonder why he arrived as a frail baby in a dirty manger and not a God floating above us all in robe and halo?

I wonder if it's because God so desperately wants us to know he loves us because of our humanity, and not in spite of it? I wonder if that was God's way of saying I don't need you to be a God, I just want you to be you.

And oh, Gods says, oh, how I want to to know and love the you that is you.

Sometimes I think we see the Christmas story as an invitation to love God because he is God. I wonder more these days, though, if it's actually an invitation to love God because he loves our humanity when so much of humanity struggles to do the same.

Maybe the manger scene was God's way of saying I need to be perfectly clear here. I understand humanity. I understand frailty and failure and fatigue and fear and forever feeling unlovable. I understand all of that - and I love you because of it not in spite of it.

Is it possible that was God's way of modeling humanity? Loving because and not in spite of.

The Christmas story, let's be clear, is definitely a story about God. But maybe that story about God isn't as different from a story about humanity as we sometimes make it. Maybe we're all supposed to be a little better at loving because of and not in spite of.

Maybe the manger scene is an introduction to the world beyond this one - where everyone loves because.

Because of our humanity, not in spite of it.

A very Merry Christmas to you all. God bless you and keep you and deeply smile upon you always - because of who you are - not in spite of it.

Today we celebrate the birth of Christ. To fully do so, we need to remember his birthday is unlike any other birthday we celebrate.

Christ's birth represents more than an arrival into the world. It reflects a choice. A choice to leave behind a paradise beyond our wildest imaginations. A choice to relinquish a body free of all pain and suffering and to take one on just like yours and mine.

Today, more than any other day, I am awed as I reflect on the truth that Christ willingly jumped up from his throne in heaven to walk the troubled streets of this world. He chose to give up everything to demonstrate how much he loves us. To think he simply could have mailed us an invitation to live with him forever, but chose to hand deliver it, is to recognize the greatest love story we'll ever have a chance to be a part of.

I listened to a Christmas Eve message last night that challenged us to not miss the gift of God's glory. The brilliant light that every day radiates through the incredible Christmas choice we're celebrating today. The pastor also challenged us to not miss the gift of being able to share that glory.

Well, I'll simply share this. Christmas has changed my life. Not because Christ was born. But because he loved me enough to chose to be. I encourage you all, don't miss the gift.

​Merry Christmas to all of my friends. I count each one of you among the gift that is the glory of God.

​THE FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

The fourth Advent candle reflects joy. It might seem like joy is just another candle in this 4-part Advent series, but, everything has been building up to joy.

HOPE for joy.
PREPARE for joy.
LOVE one another with joy.

Luke 2:8-14 says:
And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

Have you ever thought deeply about that piece of the Christmas story? I have this year.

Why does THE Christmas story make this pit stop in a field of sheep to put on what is possibly the first Christmas pageant ever – real-life heavenly angels and all – for a bunch of shepherds?

I’ve focused on two parts of that pit stop for the answer: shepherds and joy.

There was a day – many of them really - when I was the shepherd. I spent a lot of time alone wondering if this is as good as life gets. Am I going to spend my whole life dirty and poor and hanging out with a bunch of sheep? Unsatisfied with the answers, I chased joy in a lot of different places. Many of them were unhealthy places. And even when I chased joy in relatively healthier places, I’d get there only to find a sign pointing to another more satisfying level of joy: one promotion pointed me to the next promotion, one relationship pointed me to another that looked better, the rented house pointed me to the one I could own.

Through it all, through all the chasing, I never found a joy that stuck. Joy was always a moving and slippery target. I’d get my hands on it for a moment then it would slip away. The chase would be on again.

Then one day I discovered something. While I was chasing joy, God was chasing me. No matter where I went he remained in relentless pursuit. One day I stopped chasing joy long enough to turn around, to face Him, to listen to what he had to say. And he said:

Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.

Do you know that is what Christmas is all about? It is about stopping us in our tracks, turning us around long enough to discover God is pursuing us. As far as we’re willing to go to chase a false sense of joy God’s willing to chase us to deliver good news of a GREAT joy.

He stopped the shepherds in their tracks to say, even you guys, regarded as one of the lowest forms of life, I’m chasing you fellas. You have a lifetime role in the original Christmas story. He stopped the shepherds to let US know, no matter how low a life form we get to feeling we are, He’s chasing us down with that Christmas story.

So maybe this Christmas season, ask yourself – where am I chasing joy? Maybe consider stopping right where you are and letting God catch you.

The greatest joy of my life came the day I stopped and turned around and saw a persistent God still standing there, after all I’d done, hardly out of breath from His pursuit, looking at me with love and not judgment, busting at the seems to tell me, I bring you good news of great joy.

I wish you all a very Merry Christmas. I hope you experience this great joy. I hope you believe it’s not a joy we chase, but a joy we get chased with. Let it catch you this Christmas.

​Friday I had the opportunity to spend a few hours talking with a group of teens about youth substance use. The group was invested in learning how to help their peers.

One question I asked them was - why do your friends and peers use substances?

The answer our young people give to that question has changed drastically over the years. It used to be "they are bored" or "they are looking for a good time" or "they just want to fit in."

Today's answers, no matter where I go, are always in line with what these kids told me:

They told me their friends use because they are stressed, depressed, sad, lonely - those were their answers. We were several answers deep before these young people ever got to the old "good time" responses I used to get.

Those answers aren't hard to believe. A recent Virginia survey asked high school students across the state if they had felt so sad or hopeless every day for two consecutive weeks at any point the past year, and as a result had to quit doing their normal activities.

Nearly 40% of girls said they had.

20% of boys said they had (we've trained boys to be too tough - big boys don't cry - to admit they are sad, so they are always less inclined to admit they feel sad or hopeless).

20% of girls on that survey said they seriously considered suicide last year - 10% of boys did.

That is a lot of young people feeling sad and hopeless. Add that to the post I shared last week that talked about the unprecedented suicide and opiate overdose epidemics going on in this country - and one could speculate sad and hopeless kids are going on to be even sadder and more hopeless adults.

I don't know. I think we live in a time when we are desperately looking for hope and not finding it. I've been there. In fact, there are many days I'm still prone to finding myself there. On those days, though, I realize I am looking for hope outside of myself. Looking for it in my job, in my hobbies, in my relationships, in my dreams.

As a Christian during this Christmas time, I've spent time reflecting on this reality: Christ came, was born in a manger, died for me, and then - THEN - he built a new home IN me.

So often at Christmas we celebrate the life of Christ through symbols: stars, lights, trees, presents, mangers, wise men, a cross, a grave. I think too often we look at those things in remembrance of and gratitude for what Christ did, and not in hopeful and joyous celebration of what HE IS DOING today.

Today he is alive and living inside me. He is my constant source of hope. He is my constant reminder that when I feel sad, and there are days I do, that the answer is to turn inside and not search more frantically outside and all around me for my hope.

Christ was born in a manger on Christmas day. But on this Christmas I'm not celebrating that he WAS born - but that he IS alive and well in me.

I believe strongly that's a peace we can all find.

And in that peace, we can find the capacity to love ourselves a bit more, and in the process find a greater love for those around us who are truly sad and hopeless.

​Reflecting on those words this morning from Matthew McConaughey, I asked myself this question. How do I want to approach life today? Not how do I want to deal with my yesterdays. Not where do I want to be tomorrow. But how do I want to approach my life this day. The one right in front of me.

I was struck by the reality that if I approach life today the right way, in a healthy way, in a way that lines up with who I know I want and need to be, where I've been and where I want to go, well they start to take care of themselves.

To heal from yesterday, I need to approach this day in a healing way.

To be who I want to be tomorrow, I have to approach life today in a way that allows me to be my best me today.

In running, I can get focused on the big races. The big personal best performances. The finish lines. All the exciting tomorrows that make the running I do today all worth it in the end.

Yet, they can also be the tomorrows that make the running I do today completely meaningless. Joyless. I can get so focused on the runner I want to be in the end that I miss out on the chance to celebrate the runner I am today.

I think sometimes I do that on purpose. Focusing on future goals that are not guaranteed is easier than tackling the guarantee that I can absolutely put in the work that makes me the runner I want to be today.

Focusing on who I want to be someday is far easier than tackling life like I'm already that person today.

I think about it in terms of my faith. How much time I spend contemplating the God from which I came, and the God to which I am going. Who is he or she? And who and what on earth am I in that equation?

The reality is, though, contemplating the answers to the questions of my faith that are unanswerable is much easier than responding to the answer I already have.

God is relatively vague when it comes to defining where I came from and where I'm going in life. But he's explicit about how I am to approach life.

Love. He's made it clear that if I love the people around me - all of them - then where I came from and where I'm going will take care of itself. The answers I don't have will be found in living out the answer I do have.

God's made it clear that my approach to life IS the destination in my life. He's made it clear that joy is found in approaching life the right way today and not some reward down the road if the sum of my approaches happens to land me in just the right place.

So today, as you move through your check boxes, to-do lists, start writing out your goals for 2021, create vision boards with your teams - stop. Stop and consider how you want to approach life today.

There's no joy guaranteed at some finish line down the road. Joy is found in the destination. And the only destination you have guaranteed to you today is how you approach this day right here.

The one right in front of you. Right here. Right now.

​When I went to bed Friday night I had it in mind to do a long run yesterday morning. I didn't commit to a distance. This is always a warning sign that I'm not completely on board with the 'long' in that long run.

Sure enough, when I woke up yesterday I began negotiating with myself. I should do less taxing miles to give my back a break. I have too much going on to spend all morning running. I just ran a marathon a week ago; I can't possibly be recovered.

The negotiator rambled on and on.

Then my friend Solomon reached out and told me he was tackling a personal running challenge. He was going to run 3.5 miles every hour for as long as he could go - which, by the way, ended up being 12 hours. 😲

His challenge sounded intriguing. I felt new energy. The negotiator quieted.

I told him I was going to do 4 loops. And once I started, with each passing loop, I began feeling the reason I get out there in the first place. Some mornings it's hard to get started. It's easy to be intimidated by the final number. But rarely does the chore fail to become a gift once I start tackling it.

I need to tell you about another area in my life that often feels like a chore.

Prayer.

I'm committed to having prayer in my life. Every morning I sit and turn off all the distractions. I set a timer. And I literally say, Ok God, here I am. I'm all yours until that timer says I'm not.

It's not at all unlike hitting the start button on my Garmin running watch. It's not at all unlike the chore that running often feels like. And it's not at all unlike showing up some mornings simply because I said I'd be here.

But it's also not unlike completing that 4th loop. It's not unlike looking down and seeing 14 miles and knowing 14 wasn't the true gift in showing up.

Running has taught me that to discover the true meaning in something - or someone - you have to keep showing up. You have to show up when the negotiator tries to talk you out of it. Every time.

Discovering the beauty in something comes in being more committed to the search than in the fleeting feeling that something is indeed beautiful.

Running doesn't always feel beautiful, but I've never failed to discover beauty when I showed up for it.

God doesn't always feel real. But I've never failed to discover his beauty when I showed up to search for it.

It's okay for something to feel like a chore. Just be sure to remind yourself there's beauty in doing it when the negotiator tries to tell you otherwise.

​Rote: mechanical or unthinking routine or repetition, a joyless sense of order.

How many things in your life do you do as part of an "unthinking" routine. How many things in you life do you do simply because you've always done them, or because they feel like they are the things you need to do to keep order in your life, yet it's an order that brings you no joy.

Not that joy is always easy to find with our routines, but - if we've thought about a routine, and even if it's a complex or hard or challenging one, but it's critical to being who we long to be - that in itself will bring joy.

Several years ago I was drawn into a new routine. I went for a run one morning. Then again the next morning. Now 7 years later I have a running routine.

Running, more than anything outside of my faith, has challenged me to look at my life and consider how I might make it better.

Running made me look at my nutrition routine. Nutrition had always been measured by the scales in my bathroom. Get up. Step on. Numbers higher, eat less. Numbers lower, congratulations, you can eat ice cream tonight.

But the more I ran, the more I felt better about life - mentally, physically, emotionally and spiritually. My running routine made me wonder if the way I ate didn't influence those areas as well. Maybe if I ate different I could run more and better. Maybe running could have an even greater impact on all of those areas.

Nutrition can become a rote routine until we think about how we can make it better.

Running made me think about the connections in my life. I was suddenly a part of a tribe of people who poured themselves into me finding my best self. In turn, I suddenly started wondering how I could help the people around me find their best selves.

Relationships can become rote until we think about how we can make them more meaningful.

Running made me think about my prayer routine. My routine had always been, "hey God, I'm in some trouble here, can you come bail me out?" With running, my routine became more, "hey Keith, this is God here, I have some people who need loved. Can you help me out?"

Our connection to God can become rote until we get still enough to know God wants us to hear him more than he needs to hear us.

It's the time of the year when we start thinking about the new year - the new me. Maybe before you jump too far ahead into your thinking about all the new things you want to do, take a look at all the old things you've been doing. Ask yourself why you do them and what you want out of them.

Are they a path to joy or a joyless sense of order?

Maybe start with today. Just pause a few times in the middle of whatever it is you're doing. Ask yourself, is this part of my path to joy, or is this just an automated step in a life built on a joyless sense of order?