Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity. – Simone Weil
After hearing me preach for the first time, Ellsworth looked down at my feet and said, “A man who isn’t afraid to wear cowboy boots in the pulpit is a man I will give a listen.” I glanced at my feet and then at his. His boots were black. He was a deacon in my first pastorate. He taught me about being a pastor, which had nothing to do with footwear.
I remember sitting with him and drinking coffee in silence. I counted the clock’s ticks on the wall, thirty metrical ticks between sentences. Ellsworth slurped his Folgers and stared out the window. We never talked much, but this is where I learned the most important lesson in being a pastor. He never complimented a sermon, he never challenged my theology, he never asked me for counsel, and he never encouraged me. The closest he ever came was after church one Sunday, he said, “Preacher, God rarely gets in a hurry.”
I learned that the unrushed presence of Jesus is the greatest gift a pastor can give to anyone.
After three and a half years, I moved to a different state and changed shoes.
Aside from the obvious list that you might learn in seminary, like holding confidences, being faithful to the creeds, being prepared to preach, staying away from finances, not exaggerating too much in sermons, and keeping your lust at a discreet level—there is another way to measure trust. It is deeper. It goes unseen but is not unknown.
Congregants can smell an anxious pastor like polar bears smell seal pups. They may not be able to articulate the feeling they get from the aroma of a pastor on the move, but they know not to put their full weight on him. And anxiety begets anxiety.
A couple of thoughts for pastors:
Always value vulnerability over posing.
Always value reflection over knowledge.
Always value presence over vision.
Always value wisdom over knowledge
A couple of thoughts for congregations:
Invite your pastor into your home for a cup of Folgers with no agenda.
Pray for your pastor when he irritates you.
Give your pastor the mercy and grace you want given to you.
Listen for a Galilean accent when your pastor speaks.
I Heard the Owl Call My Name is a best-selling 1967 novel by Margaret Craven. I’ve given away dozens of copies of the book to young pastors. The book tells the story of a young Anglican priest named Mark Brian who, unbeknownst to him, has not long to live. He learns about the meaning of life and how a group of people can teach him how to be their pastor when he is sent to a First Nations community in British Columbia. He learns to be at home in his own skin and to be himself and present to the people, who then become present to him.
When pastors find their place in the belovedness of the divine Groom, their anxiety diminishes, and the Bride of Christ responds by walking through her community with the soft sound of sandaled feet.
There is a dark and desolate place in the life of everyone who follows the Man from Galilee. It is a place of confusion, unanswered prayers, sorrow, and despair. It goes by many names: crisis of belief, spiritual depression, desolation, wilderness wanderings, the wall, and dark night of the soul.
It can be a place of catastrophic destruction due to a self-inflicted wound like a moral failure. Or you are the victim of someone else’s selfish and sinful choice. It can be a health scare. It can be a hidden addiction that has wormed its way to the surface of your life and no longer stays hidden. It can be a professional or relational failure. It can be a growing disillusionment that the life you have built is not fulfilling the deepest longings of your soul.
Sometimes, through no fault of your own, life kicks you in the teeth, and darkness becomes your boon companion.
No one is exempt from this midnight at high noon. Moses went through this place, Elijah did, and King David did. Jeremiah lived in the desert of desolation all his life. John the Baptizer knew this dark place, and so did his cousin from Nazareth when he found himself in a garden called Gethsemane.
Perhaps an analogy will help.
I live in the valley of the Arkansas River’s headwaters. Every late spring and early summer, when the snow melts, the river swells to a point where it is a thrilling opportunity for recreational raft trips. Many rafting companies in our valley provide guided rafting trips down the river. These guides know the classifications of the rapids. The most advanced rapids are class 5.
Rivers in the Class 5 group contain incredibly long, obstructed, or violent rapids, exposing a paddler to added risk. Drops may contain large, unavoidable waves and holes or steep, congested chutes with complex, demanding routes. Rapids may continue for long distances between pools, requiring a high fitness level. Several of these factors may be combined at the high end of the scale. Advanced scouting is recommended but may be challenging to accomplish. Swims are dangerous, and rescue is often difficult, even for experts. Proper equipment, extensive experience, and practiced rescue skills are essential to attempt rapids in this classification.
Spiritually, class five rapids is a stage in our spiritual development when a person undergoes a difficult and significant transition to a deeper perception of life and their place in it. This enhanced awareness is accompanied by a painful shedding of previous conceptual frameworks such as an identity, relationship, career, habit or belief system that previously allowed us to construct meaning in our life.
The rapids are a deeply holy place on the faith journey. It is always individual, mysterious, God-shaped, and infused with Spirit—inviting us to transformation. The rapids are one of the most difficult parts of the faith journey and it asks more surrender of us than we may think we are capable of.
A guide is recommended through this stage of your sacred journey. A guide who knows this section of the river of faith.
No one wants to go through the rapids. It is a season of pain, uncertainty, and disorientation. But we all have whitewater rapids in our lives. Even Jesus had class five rapids—the crucifixion. A frequent question asked is what do we do when we encounter our class five rapids? Often that means what do I need to do to stop this pain, uncertainty, and confusion. We can get a glimpse of how to position ourselves during the whitewater phase by following Jesus’ pattern of prayer.
Allow Jesus to accompany you down the river with these prayers.
“My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me…” Matthew 26:39
Jesus prays his way into and through his rapids—death on the cross. In the praying, death acquires an unguessed dimension: no longer a dead end but a passageway to resurrection, no longer a terminus, but a beginning.
When we pray, we willingly participate in what God is doing, without knowing precisely what God is doing, how God is doing it, or when we will know what is going on—if ever.
Like Jesus, this is a time to pray what we want, not what we ought to want.
What do you want from God?
What are your deepest feelings right now?
What are you sensing in the stillness?
“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Mark 15:34
Whitewater rapids cut us off from our moorings. Other than death, rapids are the ultimate incomprehensibility. I no longer belong. I no longer fit. And I am not given an explanation.
Jesus’ way of dealing with his rapids is to move into the midst of it an let the rapids do their deeper work on his soul. The writer of Hebrews reminds us, Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. (Heb. 5:8)
It is not easy. Nobody said it would be easy. It wasn’t for Jesus. Praying this fragment prayer reveals the worst that comes to us in a life of belief in God: the experience of absolute abandonment by God.
What does your heart feel as you go down these rapids?
Acknowledge the sorrow of desolation.
Lift your heart towards your deepest longings.
What do you sense during this time of silence?
“Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.”Luke 23:34
Often, when we go through our rapids, those around us will be just as confused by the darkness and uncertainty as we are. Some will want us to snap out of it and be happy. Others will try to fix us with encouraging words and platitudes. Or by giving us unsolicited advice.
Here a posture of grace and mercy is needed. Hessed, lovingkindness, will be needed in large doses. For “Job’s friends” can be relentlessly brutal.
Ask for a double portion of steadfast love and mercy for family and friends.
Listen to the Holy Spirit as you listen to those who don’t understand.
Live with an open heart and hand towards others.
“I thirst.”John 19:28
This is a one-word prayer in Greek: dipso. Think about what Jesus prayed on the cross—sense the abandonment, forgiveness, and relinquishment. And now—pain: the body shutting down, lungs failing, heart failing, kidney’s failing. In Jesus’ class five rapids, this leave-taking of his body was experienced as excruciating thirst.
We can never underestimate the impact of the rapids or dark night of the soul on our physical state. Pay attention to what your body is saying to you. It is not unreasonable to ask God for relief from the pain we go through as we pass through rapids.
Where do you feel tension in your body through this experience?
Ask God to help you notice specific physical pain or discomfort.
Listen to what your body is telling you about how this experience is affecting you physically.
Let God speak to you through your physical experience.
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”Luke 23:46
This is a prayer of trust. When we pray this prayer, we don’t know what might happen next, but we are releasing ourselves into the care and control of the one who calls us “beloved”.
Jesus prayed this trusting prayer in circumstances that were anything but secure and safe. When you pray this prayer through your rapids, picture being in the company of Jesus as he utters it from the cross.
Remember: Jesus was not giving up; he was entering in—entering into the work of salvation. And when we pray this prayer as we go through our rapids; we are entering into the work—deep work—of what the rapids can accomplish in our souls.
What does it feel like to pray this prayer?
In what ways are you deceiving yourself?
Let your grasp of control be released to the Father.
What will the evidence be of you leaving the outcomes with God?
What we can’t know in the midst of the rapids is that there is life on the other side that is unspeakable and full of glory. There is resurrection morn. There is exaltation, if not in this life, in the life to come. It is our outcome, it is our destination, it is our birthright as the beloved of God.
As I heard an old preacher say one time, “Never doubt in the dark what God revealed to you in the light.”
In the meantime, pray, paddle, and trust God to remember you.
Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord. Isaih 1:18 (KJV)
Not too long ago, something in the national news troubled me greatly. It was confrontation that I felt was crude, rude, and demeaning. Two men with all the power in the world shamed another leader in public. I was gut-punched by the bullying that was going on in front of the entire world.
I commented on the behavior of the powerful leaders in social media. My quote was, “There was ONE adult in the Oval Office today. And English is his second language.”
The amount of criticism I received from a segment of my social media connections was pretty impressive.
The apologists for the bullies were quick to point out that there was much more to the story than the news media was portraying. They also accused me of not being fair. “Did you post critical comment about the other guy when he was in office?”
This taught me that in our current cultural moment, when someone criticizes your favorite politician, it is the same as attacking you. This tells me that for many people, their identity and sense of self have wrapped themselves around the axle of the person or party I voted for.
This social media firestorm that my post created raises a critical question for me as a pastor of a group of lovely people who mostly voted for and supported the bullies: When does a pastor speak out against a leader’s ungodly behavior?
Why can’t a leader of a local faith gathering call out the abusive behavior of those in power? My experience has taught me that he or she can, if it is against the opposition. I am concerned that, as a pastor, I can’t speak against the behavior of a public leader or influencer unless my criticism is aimed at the right enemy—your enemy.
Historically, pastors have been faithful in calling attention to the bad behavior of leaders in the public square. I did when President Clinton was in office back in the nineties concerning his inappropriate relationship with an intern. I spoke out against Hillary Clinton calling Trump supporters the “deplorables.” I did it when it came out that the Bush administration lied about weapons of mass destruction being in Iraq. I did it when then President Joe Biden called Trump supporters “garbage.”
The lack of spiritual discernment in politics is stunning. People I love and respect can’t discern the difference between criticizing a particular policy and criticizing unethical behavior.
I constantly feel tension in two areas. I am a pastor, which means I love and care for the souls of many people. When you have been ordained since 1984, you are even the pastor of people outside your local church. I want them to love and trust me, and I have great compassion for them. On the other hand, I have a trait, tendency, predisposition deep in my bones to speak prophetically when an injustice has occurred.
Honestly, I wish one of those thorns would go away. I wish I could love everyone and turn a blind eye to the world’s injustices. OR when I speak out against the injustices and end up angering people I love, I wish it would roll off of me like water off a duck’s back.
So far, I have to live with both realities in my heart.
As I lost relationships this last week because of my criticism of bullying behavior, I felt alone and in need of some comfort. I prayed. I journaled. I sat in silence. I did some serious soul searching. I kept asking myself, “Where can I find a roadmap through this hostile landscape? Who can I talk to? What can I read? Who has gone through this before?”
Because of my life station (read old age), I am finding more and more pastors looking to me for guidance. But where do I go for my roadmap?
I have been reading Psalms every day for many years. However, because of my self-inflicted wound on social media, I have felt a need to find hope and solidarity with the ancient people of God who found themselves in difficult times—times of oppression, exile, and attack.
That has led me to supplement my reading of the ancient Jewish prayer book with readings from the major prophets. I remembered that those pastors/poets spoke out during very volatile times—sometimes during enemy occupations, other times during corrupt kings, and still others when exiled in a foreign land.
At one point, the prophet wrote down what God promised, and it encouraged my soul.
“Reassure the righteous that their good living will pay off. Isaiah 3:10 (MSG)
I’ve been reading through Isaiah the last few days. I am inviting you to join me on this pilgrimage. Let’s read the prophets together. I will warn you that it is not an easy and uplifting read. There are deep divides between our times and cultures and those of the ancient people of God. You will often have to slog through sections that seem disconnected from our times.
Let’s stay on course, keep reading even when we don’t understand how this passage is relevant, and trust the Holy Spirit to plant a shoot of God’s truth in our hearts. This kind of reading and then living will pay off. I promise.
My strategy is to read on the day corresponding to the current day of the month. For instance, as I write this blog, it is March 10, 2025. I will read Day 10 of Month One on the reading plan. You certainly don’t have to do it this way; it’s just my way.
P.S. I am not interested in commenting again on whether I should have spoken out against the behavior in the Oval Office. I stand by my post and position.
I entered a relationship with Jesus I was aware of when I was seven. I can still see my tears falling into the green gold shag carpet in my preacher father’s study where I said, “The sinner’s prayer.” And I think I can still hear my little brother’s tone when he learned that I had been saved, “I hope it takes.”
Two years later, my family moved from Texas to Colorado, and I went to a youth camp at Ponderosa Camp just outside of Colorado Springs. I spent a week learning about Jesus, the proper handling of a .22, and making lanyards for our moms.
Every night, we gathered in an open pavilion for a chapel service with an altar call. I listened to the preacher on the last night of the week but heard from God. I heard him in my heart. I never heard words. It was more like a whisper—but it wasn’t a whisper of words. You might say it was a “calling.” It was very vague, almost ethereal, and I was troubled by it.
When I got home from camp, my mom and dad took me out on the back porch of the house we were staying in. My dad asked me about camp and what I had learned. I didn’t want to say anything, but I cleared my throat and finally muttered, “I believe God has called me to preach.”
I’ll never forget what he said next. He looked up at the sky, took a deep breath, looked at my mom, and said, “I was afraid that would happen.”
I eventually became a preacher. It was the natural progression in my family. My dad was a preacher. My grandfather had been a preacher. Folks at church would always ask me, “Are you going to be a preacher like your dad?” I don’t remember what I said, but I remember what I felt, “I hope not.” I didn’t want to be a preacher.
But that night at the camp, God whispered to me. He wanted me to pastor his people. I was called to my first church in 1984. I was twenty-six years old. I had no clue what to do. I knew how to preach but didn’t know how to be a pastor. That was over forty years ago. I have a clue now. And the reason is because God’s grace grew me into who he wanted me to be.
But ever since 1978, all I have wanted to do has been to pastor God’s church.
About ten years ago, at this time of year, Jerry Thornhill called to inquire if I would be interested in interviewing to be the pastor of Mountain Heights. I said yes. Then, in May 2015, you flew Lynette and me out here to meet you. I preached for you, and you voted to have me be your next pastor. That was ten years ago.
The highest honor of my life has been to be your pastor. But it is time for me to retire from pastoring.
Lynette and I are not moving. We love living here in Buena Vista and will continue to host soul care retreats for pastors in our home. I suppose you could say I will devote my time to pastoring pastors now because every pastor needs a pastor.
With your permission, I would like to continue as your pastor until May and help the Leadership Council find a suitable interim pastor to present to you for you to vote on.
I teach young pastors not to let what they do for a living get wrapped around the axle of their identity. I say, “You are, first and foremost, the beloved of God. Period. God has called you to be a shepherd of his people.”
I teach the younger pastors that, spiritually speaking, each of them has a last name and a first name. Their last name is God’s family name. In other words, their last name is “Beloved.”
But you also have a first name. It has to do with your calling and vocation.
My given name is Joseph, which means “one who adds.” I used to wonder, “Adds what?” Perhaps a story would help make this clear.
About 22 years ago, my dad and I took my oldest sons backpacking in the Sangre de Cristos. As we climbed the 13,200-foot pass to drop into the Deadman basin, I saw Dad slowing down. His knee had been giving him plenty of trouble. It was before his knee replacement, and he was climbing with bone on bone in his right knee. Understandably, he was the last up to the top of the pass. As we sat in that high alpine saddle above Timberline waiting for him, one of my sons said, “Dad, Grandpa is tough. Are you going to be able to climb up here like he is doing when you are 65?”
“Shut up, kid.”
No. I said, “Yeah, he is setting the bar pretty high for me.”
After a week of catching the best cutthroat trout in the state, we started planning our trek out. Dad’s knee never recovered as he had hoped, and the thought of climbing out the same way we came in was out of the question. The trouble was that we had never come out of Deadman any other way. We got the topographical maps out, and he and I began looking at other possible routes.
We settled on one good route and headed out on the sixth day of our trip. It was a longer trek but much easier on my dad’s knee. He was still slow but making good progress.
The final pitch down to Lower Sand Lakes and the relatively easier trail back to the truck was blocked by a cliff band that was dangerous to descend. I had everyone set their packs down and wait as I probed the cliffs to find a way down that was safe for my teenage sons and my injured father.
Eventually, I found a steep cut in the cliff’s rocks filled with remnants of last winter’s snow. I decided to kick-step down and drop my pack, then go back up and carry each of my sons’ packs down myself. I then carefully “spot them” from below, placing each of their feet in the large and boot-packed snow steps I had created on my initial descent.
I ferried them down the 75-foot snow chute one by one. It was slow going, and the boys were more than a little nervous about the descent. Dad watched me take each of them down and never said a word.
Finally, the only one left was Dad. I climbed back seventy-five feet to where he and his pack rested above the snow chute. I sat down beside him.
After a long silence, he said, “You are really good with those boys.”
“Thanks.”
The boys were burning off residual adrenaline with a snowball fight at the bottom. Dad and I just sat and watched them. Then, we would look out at the green floor of the Wet Mountain Valley.
We sat silently together.
Finally, I asked him, “How’s your knee?”
Probably a little more sternly than he meant, he said, “It hurts!”
I nodded.
We sat in silence a little more.
“How do you want to do this,” I said.
“I want to carry my pack down!”
I nodded.
“But you better carry it,” he said.
“Okay.”
We got up, and I put his pack on my back and went to the snow chute. I went first to spot him and make sure his feet were deep in the pocket of the steps we had created. As I stepped onto the snow with his pack on my back, he grabbed my shoulder, turned me to face him, and said, “You helped those boys feel safe in a dangerous situation. You have a gift of bringing calm and hope when people need it most. And You make me feel safe, too.”
Those words touched a place inside me that ached for affirmation and assurance that I had what it took to be a man. I’m not going to lie: Tears filled my eyes, making it difficult to shove his feet into those boot-packed steps down the snow chute—one foot after another.
My last name is Beloved. My first name is the one who adds hope.
I’ve told you this story to remind you that I love each of you and want to assure you that if I know anything, there is a better tomorrow for this church. Her best days are not behind her. Her best days are out in the many tomorrows that lie before you. I promise to help you get to that better tomorrow and your new pastor.
Now, please receive a blessing from God’s word from your pastor:
“The Lord bless you and keep you; The Lord make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The Lord lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace.” ’
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Resentment is the poison we swallow while we hope the other person dies. – Unknown
To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. – Lewis Smedes
Who is hard for you to love?
In Matthew’s gospel, Jesus tells a chilling story about the importance of mercy and forgiveness. It presents a parable where a king forgives a servant’s enormous debt, but the servant fails to extend the same mercy to a fellow servant who owes him a much smaller amount. The king’s anger at the servant’s lack of compassion highlights the expectation that those who receive forgiveness should also practice forgiveness towards others.
“Then the master called the servant in. ‘You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’ In anger his master handed him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.
“This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother or sister from your heart.” (Matthew 18:32-35)
Why would this servant sit in judgment over a fellow servant? Because he was sitting in the wrong chair. Servants are not supposed to take the place of kings. The only thing that will change a servant from acting like a king is getting a view of the amazing love of the King who became a Servant.
To withhold mercy and forgiveness is a sign that you are sitting in the wrong chair.
We are the ones who should be on trial for our cosmic rebellion, but we put ourselves in the judgment seat. And yet the Lord, on the judgment seat, came down, put himself on trial, and went to the cross. The Judge of all the earth was judged. He was punished for us. He took the punishment we deserve for all the ways we harm each other.
The whole point of the gospel is to destroy your self-righteousness and the idea that you’re better than others.
That is why Christian Nationalism is so evil. Nationalism is a huge threat to the Gospel witness of the Church. And it is antithetical to the Gospel.
Patriotism is simple affection for your country.
Nationalism is the notion that your dirt is better than anyone else’s dirt. Your culture is superior to anyone else’s culture. Your people are better than anyone else’s people. God loves your country more than he loves any other country or tribe or language or people. That is anti-Gospel. (see Revelation 7:9-10)
The Gospel tells you you’re a sinner saved by grace. If you stay angry at somebody, you are amplifying your heart’s self-righteousness. Turning you into a self-centered, self-pitying, self-absorbed person capable of more cruelty. The evil is winning.
I was splitting wood a few years ago, and a piece flew back and hit me in the shin. It didn’t tear my jeans but broke the skin underneath. No big deal. I’ve had tons of worse wounds in my life. But a month later, an infection began to swell up in my leg. Cellulitis. Nasty wound. I went to the doctor, and they prescribed antibiotics. I had evil cellulitis in my leg. But the antibiotic pills were supposed to rid me of the infection. What might happen if I had stopped taking the antibiotics before the recommended time? The evil cellulitis would have won.
We need to take our Gospel pill and keep taking it until we see ourselves and others the way God sees them.
The gospel humbles you. You can’t stay angry at somebody unless you feel superior to them. A proper view of the gospel of grace humbles you out of bitterness and contempt for others. Only then can you forgive others.
When Jesus was dying on the cross and he was being executed, he said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” (Luke 23:24)
He says, “Father, what they’re doing is wrong. They need to be forgiven. They are guilty, and I’m dying for their guilt.” Instead of screaming at his enemies, what does he say? “Father, they really don’t understand the magnitude of what they’re doing.” Jesus has something good to say about his executioners.
If he treats his executioners like that, how dare you and I withhold mercy and forgiveness to those who harm us? Jesus wouldn’t even talk like that at the very end.
And so, dear friend, may the Lord give us grace and patience that can grow only from a great view of His dying and saving mercy.
In 1985, Huey Lewis and The News released a hit single called The Power of Love. The song put them on the map of pop culture of the eighties. I’m not a huge fan of the song, but I looked up the lyrics to see if there was anything of substance there. Here’s the first verse of the song,
The power of love is a curious thing Make a one man weep, make another man sing Change a hawk to a little white dove More than a feeling, that’s the power of love
Okay, those words won’t go down in history as the most profound description of love ever penned. But, perhaps, the following are,
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
The greatest force for change you will ever experience is the love of the God of the universe. It will change you. You will begin to pick up the values, mannerisms, and politics of the One you love.
Paul has a particular person in mind when he personifies love like this.
When Paul wrote, “Love is patient,” how could he not have been thinking about the One who said, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” There is infinite suffering out of love.
When he says love does not keep a record of wrongs, how could he not be thinking about the One who said, “Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing”?
When he says, “Love always protects, always hopes,” how could he not be thinking about the One who, when he saw His mother and the disciple named John, said to His mother, “Woman, behold your son!” Then He said to the disciple, “Behold your mother!”
Or when he said to the thief being crucified beside him, “… today you will be with me in paradise”?
According to Leif Peterson, when his father, Eugene Peterson, would say prayers with his kids as they were growing up, he would lean down and whisper in their ears these words,
Paul describes a being that is coming for you. And as I read that description, there is nothing to fear in the pursuer.
Have you ever seen a couple who had been married for decades who seemed to look a lot alike? This is actually a thing. It’s called “empathetic mimicry,” where two people unconsciously mirror each other’s facial expressions and emotions over time, leading to similar muscle patterns and wrinkle formations on their faces, making them appear more alike.
Love is a power, and love is a person. We will be changed to the degree you and I connect with Jesus.
I learned about a practice that originated with Saint Ignatius. After I read a Gospel passage (this morning, I read John 14 aloud), I invite the Holy Spirit to guide me, and I practice meeting Jesus in the way Ignatius taught.
Meeting Jesus
1. Close your eyes and imagine yourself walking. You choose the place and time.
2. In the distance, you see a person walking toward you. As you get closer, you realize it is Jesus. He greets you by name.
3. He says something about the weather to start the conversation.
4. Then wait with your imagination for what he says next.
5. Then you can say whatever you’d like to Jesus and wait for a response.
6. When you are ready, you can say goodbye in whatever way you would like.
7. Reflect: Notice not only what was said but what tone of voice and body language were used. What stood out to you most about Jesus?
My late mother lived in Colorado and Washington state for over sixty of her eighty-three years. But she was born in Texas and raised in southeast Colorado—close to Texas. Her parents were from West Texas. My grandmother and grandfather spoke with heavy Texas accents, but for the most part, my mother lost her Texas accent.
However, when her sister visited, they might talk in the next room, and their voices would start to blend. My mother would begin to talk in her Texas accent. Both my aunt and my mother sounded the same.
In fact, my mother would sound like a Texan for quite some time after my aunt would leave and go home. They sounded alike because they spent time together.
And so, friend, may you spend so much time with Jesus of Galilee that you begin to know down in your bones that,
God loves you.
He’s on your side.
He’s coming after you.
He’s relentless.
In time, others will say that we speak with a Galilean accent.
As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. John 15:9
God is madly in love with you, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. You are His beloved.
Do you believe that? Lots of people will say that they know God loves them but are unsure if he likes them. But how do you love someone or something that you don’t like? If I like someone, I want to spend time with them. God always wants to spend time with you and me. That’s why Jesus invites us to abide in his love.
But what if I keep failing? What if I can’t seem to get on the right side of my sin problem? God loves you even if you never get better. Our relationship status with God has nothing to do with our behavior. If it did, we would have a performance-based relationship with him. And we don’t.
Scriptures say that Jesus was the Lamb of God who had come to take away the sins of the world to give us the approval we long for and could never find ourselves. Perhaps it would be healing for you to sit with the following verse from Saint Paul,
Praise…the glory of His grace, by which He made us accepted in the Beloved. Eph. 1:6
Let’s say someone is mean to you and criticizes you. When you abide in God’s love, you can step back and say, along with author Tim Keller, “I have the smile of God; all other frowns are inconsequential.”
It’s an ability to continually say, “I am a son of the King. I am a daughter of the King. My Father loves me with great love, and I already have the only riches that count, the only love that lasts, the only family that matters.”
That’s abiding in his love. That’s remaining in his love. That’s telling yourself the Gospel!
When my oldest son, Cole, was thirteen, he went on his first backpacking trip with a wilderness program I led. Being the preacher’s kid and an eager 13-year-old with older boys made for a painful week for Cole. Because he was eager and awkward, they teased him more than normal. He kept feeling rejected by the cool kids.
He was in a tent with the older boys, trying to fit in, and they kept teasing him so much that he finally left that tent and came to mine.
He said, “Dad, they are so mean to me! It’s like they don’t care.”
I said, “I know, son.”
He kept looking out of the tent toward the group of boys. Then his head would drop, and he would stare at his hands. Whenever laughter erupted from the older boys’ tent, he would look out of the tent door. He wanted to fit in and be there with those boys.
I remember watching him and thinking, “You are so loved, son. Can’t you feel my love? If you relax in my love, it will mark your life. There will come a day when you will forget those boys’ names, but you will never forget my name. Let my love fill you up right now.”
The power of my love to change my son’s life is significantly limited, but the power of the Heavenly Father’s love to change our lives is unlimited.
I squeezed his shoulder, patted him, and said, “I love you, son.”
He looked out the tent door towards the laughing boys, sighed heavily, and said, “I know. Let’s play some cards, Dad.”
I love what poet and writer the late Macrina Wiederkeher prayed in her book Season of Your Heart,
You are the beloved of God. Believe it. Trust it. Abide in it.
Some of you need to stop looking out of the tent at your inner and outer critics and look up to the Father—you are loved with everlasting love, and there is not a damn thing you can do about it.
My son Caleb’s favorite musical group is Switchfoot. He played that music often when he lived with us before he married. He has been to many of their concerts. It’s a good Christian band, and I like them too. They have one song that haunts me. I won’t play the song for you because you might not like the music. But listen to a few lines from the song as I read them to you,
Yesterday is a wrinkle on your forehead Yesterday is a promise that you’ve broken Don’t close your eyes This is your life and today is all you’ve got now And today is all you’ll ever have Don’t close your eyes
This is your life, are you who you want to be? This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be? When the world was younger and you had everything to lose
Yesterday is a kid in the corner Yesterday is dead and over
This is your life, are you who you want to be?
Are you who you want to be? If the answer is no, then how can we change? What will change us? I don’t know about you, but I want to be more like Jesus. Do you?
The Word of God is the leaven in your soul to produce life-giving bread for yourself and the world. It’s one thing to read the Bible for inspiration. It’s one thing to read the Bible for doctrinal information. It’s another thing to let these words abide in you.
When I realigned my life with Jesus after years of wayward living, I went to college to study the Bible. I wanted to follow Jesus deeply, but I was having difficulty doing the little things I had been taught were necessary for spiritual growth: Prayer and Bible Study.
Developing the habit of opening God’s Word was extremely difficult. There always seemed to be something else that would distract me. I had no problem reading—I would read all the time—but spending time in God’s Word was extremely difficult.
So, in a phone call to my parents, my dad challenged me to ask the Living Word (Jesus) to give me a hunger for His written word (the Bible). He asked me to pray daily for Jesus to give me that hunger for His Word. I must have put up a little resistance because he reminded me of the scripture that says,
If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. (John 15:7)
He asked, “Joe, do you think it is God’s will for you to get to know Him through reading his Word?” I said, “Yes.” Then my dad said, “I can promise he will grant you the answer to your prayers. Ask him to give you a hunger for his Word. Ask it every day for thirty days and see what happens.”
I committed to that in the spring of 1979. I prayed that prayer for thirty days straight.
Nothing changed overnight. But, in time, it began to take root. And I can confidently say that there have only been a handful of days in those 45 years that I haven’t spent time in God’s Word, even when I wasn’t pastoring God’s Church and needing to write a sermon every week.
So, if you struggle to consistently spend time with Jesus and his Bible, perhaps you would do what I did 45 years ago and pray that God would give you that hunger. He wants to meet you personally through his love letter to you.
The Psalmist helps us.
Blessed is the man Who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly, Nor stands in the path of sinners, Nor sits in the seat of the scornful; But his delight is in the law of the Lord, And in His law he meditates day and night. Psalm 1:1-2
The Hebrew word “meditate” is the word hagah. And itmeans to mutter to yourself, to talk to yourself, to muse, to ponder.
“As a lion or a young lion growls over its prey…Isaiah 31:4
The word translated as “growl” here in Isaiah is hagah in Hebrew. You’ve watched enough nature shows to visualize this scene. A lion has killed her prey and has a giant paw draped over the kill, and she begins to lick the carcass with her big red tongue, and a low growl or purr rumbles from deep inside her chest. She protects it, gnaws on it, chews it, licks it, turns it over, and licks the other side.
This is how I abide in the Word:
Begin with 1-2 minutes of silence.
Invite the Holy Spirit to reveal the message Jesus wants you to hear.
Read a selected passage aloud very slowly with long pauses. Feel the words on your tongue.
Notice a word or phrase that resonates with your heart. Stop. Say the word and hagah.
Sit with that word or phrase. Chew on it.
Finish reading the passage.
Sit in silence, saying the word or phrase several times to yourself. (hagah)
Read the entire passage a second time, engaging your five senses.
What do you see?
What do you smell?
What do you taste?
What do you feel?
What do you hear?
Journal or speak those images aloud.
Sit with the sights, sounds, and smells of the passage for a few minutes.
Read the passage again a third time, this time listening, seeing, and noticing what Jesus might be trying to get you to do or say in your life for this given day. Imagine Jesus is sending you an encrypted message through the passage, and you are to hear it and decode it.
Do what he tells you to do.
Do you ever feel as if God is distant from you? How many of you feel God is a million miles away? I was thinking about this a few days ago.
What if my four-year-old granddaughter, Cora, was so busy playing that whenever she passed my chair and I offered her to sit on my lap to read her a book, she just kept playing like I wasn’t even there? I offer to sit with her, but she is too busy watching TV, playing video games, or wanting to blow bubbles. No matter what I do, she is so absorbed in her play world that she won’t take the time to “be” with me.
If she consistently operated that way, would she possibly grow up and complain to her parents, friends, or therapist that she never felt loved by her grandpa?
I’m here to tell you that your heavenly Father is more than willing to walk with you, sit beside a bubbling stream, and whisper to you through a child’s laughter, but you must notice. You have to pay attention.
And that comes from hagah. Pondering on the Word that became flesh for you. If you do that over time, you will be changed and feel adored by your Heavenly Father.
This process is not complicated, but it does require an intention to be still and know that he is God. The Word of God is the leaven in your soul to produce life-giving bread for yourself and the world.
For the Christian, pleasure is innocent until proven guilty. ~ Tim Keller
At various times, we all come to a place where we notice something almost sacramental, rich, and holy about the experience of listening to the music of Beethoven or Mozart. Or listening to Johnny Cash sing Amazing Grace.
There is something transcendent about watching a bee pull nectar from the tiny alpine-forget-me-not flower at fourteen thousand feet above sea level. There is something holy about watching a sunrise or the smell of a baby’s hair. There is something packed full of beauty and goodness about the innocent laugh of a toddler. Or the wise, gentle smile of a grandparent.
What do we do with these instincts that this material reality is beautiful, good, and holy? Is it merely neurons firing and synapses reacting in our brains, or is there more going on?
Live in God’s World Playfully
Have you noticed that Christians are some of the saddest, dourest, meanest people on the planet? And yet one of the salient marks of what the Scriptures say is supposed to set us apart from people with God is that we are joyful people.
God made this world, and even in its groaning and marred state, we are to enjoy the creative world God has placed us in.
Will we slow down enough to see the petals of a flower, hear the distinct tone of a songbird, taste the texture of a pan-seared steak, or have a leisurely conversation with an old friend? Will we slow down enough to see, hear, taste, smell, and touch this good earth? How will we ponder and praise the moments of beauty God offers us this week?
Live in God’s World Gratefully
That is one of the great benefits of gathering weekly to worship. When we gather to sing, pray, laugh, study, hear, and love as a gathering of the faithful, we focus all the inarticulate praise of the cosmos and turn it into an expression to the living God. Worship is practiced in gratitude.
This is why it is so important that we determine to be present in a place of worship even when we don’t feel like it. Without the weekly discipline, it is so easy to fall into a default mode of working on the next item on your “to-do list” that we fail to realize we have so much life and grace for which to be thankful.
In worship, we are to slow down long enough to be stunned by the beauty of God and the grace of Jesus and—to say thank you as a people.
Live in God’s World Seriously
We know that this world is both beautiful and broken. God loves this world so stubbornly that He enters it in Jesus to restore and heal it. Each of our lives is supposed to be a signpost to that blessed hope. That means we get serious about serving the world that God loves.
When you work in your yard, when you speak with the clerk at the store you frequent, when you teach a child to read, when you build a house, when you pump gas, when you provide employment for others, when you process transactions at a bank, when you write a story, when you listen to a friend, when you play with a child, when you cook a meal…it is all spiritual.
One of the fascinating restoration projects happening in the world today is happening in Istanbul, Turkey. The church of Hagia Sophia (literally “Holy Wisdom”), built in Constantinople, now Istanbul, was first dedicated in 360 by Emperor Constantius, son of the city’s founder, Emperor Constantine. Today, it boasts the largest unsupported dome structure in the world. It is beautiful, breathtaking, and transcendent. And yet, with all of its grandeur, it is in disrepair.
In the 15th century, Sultan Mehmed ravaged the city and converted it into a mosque, which it remained until the fall of the Ottoman Empire in the early twentieth century—plastering over the beauty of the mosaics with the ugly of plain plaster. However, in the 1930s, the Hagia Sophia was officially commissioned as a museum and was no longer controlled by a religious entity. Since that time, slowly—week-by-week, month-by-month, and year-by-year—the ancient beauty of that place is being restored. The plain plaster is carefully, gently chipped and peeled away so that the original beauty underneath might reemerge.
What a wonderful picture of what God is doing in this world through Jesus’s apprentices and what the maker of Heaven and Earth is doing with His creation. Through Jesus’s person and work, He is repairing and restoring a ruined cathedral, and He intends—no, insists—that it be beautiful again.
So, dear friends and fellow pilgrims, may you know the maker of Heaven and Earth and learn to live well in His good world.
Kings of the earth and all peoples; Princes and all judges of the earth; Both young men and maidens; Old men and children. Let them praise the name of the Lord. Psalm 148:11
“I know you think you understand what you thought I said but I’m not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant” – Alan Greenspan
I saw an interview where the reporter asked a celebrity what life was like as a musician. The interviewee was indignant. Said, “I don’t do magic tricks. What kind of interview is this? What are you implying with that question? I play music; that is what I do.” The reporter sat stunned but then said, “Yes, I understand. You play music. So, how is life as a musician?” The interviewee got angry and started taking their microphone off to leave the interview. “I am not going to sit here and be insulted like this. I told you I am not a musician. I don’t do magic. I play music.”
Sometimes, people seem to work hard to try to misunderstand you. When you’re misunderstood, you have no defense. And no matter how hard you try to correct the misunderstanding, it usually worsens. You go fully loaded, ready to “set them straight,” and all you do is dig yourself deeper! The harder you work, the worse it gets, and the deeper it hurts.
Recently, Lynette and I visited another country to lead a soul-care retreat. We had a wonderful time visiting with fellow pilgrims and sharing what it means to live a contemplative life. At one point, we visited a halfway house where this NGO was trying to give recovering addicts a job on a chicken farm to help them get back on their feet and back into society.
We met a local man who wanted to tell us his story of recovery. He spoke the native language, and we had an interpreter. It was wonderful to hear his story of sobriety and how God had rescued him from the streets.
We went to church with our friends and didn’t understand a single word of the music except the melody of a couple of the songs. The preacher got up to preach in his native tongue. He had another man stand beside him and interpret his preaching into Russian. We had a young lady sitting next to us who interpreted the Russian into English.
So, imagine this: a preacher interpreted the Bible in a sermon. A man interpreted the sermon into Russian. A young lady interpreted the Russian interpretation into English. Then Lynette and I had to process and interpret what our American friend said in English.
Was anything lost in translation? No doubt there was.
We started with a generous heart for our recovering friend, who told us his story and the sermon that was preached in a foreign language. That goodwill went a long way in smoothing over what might have been lost in translation. However, the interview with the person who played music but was not a musician had filters up before the conversation began, which caused her not to understand the question, and the misunderstanding escalated from there.
And that relationship didn’t recover.
Being misunderstood is one of the most frustrating aspects of being a pastor, both in the pulpit and in the everyday conversation of church life. I find comfort in the fact that Jesus was misunderstood as well.
“You remember these things I did, but you still don’t understand?” Mark 8:21
Naturally, misunderstandings happen all the time. We might ask clarifying questions or ask someone to say something differently. We work hard at trying to understand not just the words but the intent of the words. But there are times when my woundedness might interfere with my hearing. Haven’t you had a headache or other ailment and misunderstood what your friend or spouse said?
Personally, my hearing goes dim when I don’t feel well or when I am hAngry. But more seriously, sometimes, my ability to understand someone is impeded by my soul’s woundedness. Unresolved trauma can impact my ability to fully understand what another person says or does. I need to be very aware that I might have a hearing problem that comes from my soul.
But the question I am wrestling with is, what do I do when I am misunderstood? When every gesture towards someone is wrongly interpreted.
What to Do?
The Psalms have been a balm for my soul for many years. I read them every day, every month, and every year. Here are some helpful words that I found recently during a difficult time of conflict.
Be Honest with God About How I Feel.
Give ear to my prayer, O God; do not hide yourself from my supplication. Attend to me and answer me; I am troubled in my complaint. I am distraught by the noise of the enemy, because of the clamor of the wicked. For they bring trouble upon me, and in anger they bear a grudge against me. Psalm 55v1-3
This poet speaks to God about what he is feeling deep inside. He cries out to God about what others are saying about him. I love the line, “I am distraught by the noise of the enemy.” Haven’t you been distraught by the noise others might be saying or thinking about you? I certainly have.
Speaking to God about what is in your heart rather than what ought to be in your heart is very healing for your soul.
Give the Situation to the Lord.
Cast your burden on the Lord, and he will sustain you; he will never permit the righteous to be moved.
But you, O God, will cast them down into the lowest pit; the bloodthirsty and treacherous shall not live out half their days. But I will trust in you. Psalm 55v22-23
I don’t know how often I’ve just had to give a situation to the Lord. When you think about it, what else will you do with it?
Large-hearted people are more curious than critical. (Lord, help me.)
It is impossible to lead, pastor, or parent without being misunderstood. Sometimes, it happens in funny ways (Are you a musician?). Sometimes, it happens in different cultures (Lost in translation). And sometimes, it comes from a wound (I can’t understand you when I am hangry).
But it inevitably happens.
It is important not to react during times of misunderstanding but, first and foremost, to take it to the Lord, who knows what it feels like to be misunderstood. Let him deal with it.
Field Notes On The Jesus Way 
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