The Dawning

Happy Mother's Day (Belated)

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Mon, 15 May 2006 22:20:00 +0000

I missed the boat on posting this yesterday, but thought I would put it out there today. For the women of our church community this year I decided not to get flowers or some kind of cheesy Christian trinket. I decided to write them a tribute of sorts - part praise and part prayer - that I wanted to inspire them to continue living and loving their children the way God dreams they could.

You see, I’ve been privileged to see up close two amazing mothers - my own mom and my wife. I don’t think I’ve ever once seriously wondered whether my mom loved me or not. It was always quite clear to me that she would do just about anything to see me live the way I think she knew I could. We argued, I rolled my eyes at her, she made corny comments that embarrassed me when I was 13 (and 14, and 15, and 16, and so on), and I’m sure I frustrated her to no end at times. But in everything I never doubted her sincere love and tremendous strength.

And now I am observing from an almost microscopic perspective the strength, character and wisdom it takes for a mother to navigate the troubled waters of preschool aged parenting. My wife works a 30 hour week outside our home for us to make ends meet. But I know (and you do too) that her work doesn’t begin and end when she punches the clock. It has already been ongoing as the children have been fed breakfast and lunch. Jacob has been taken to preschool and picked up again. Aislinn has visited the library, or the store, or a friend’s house. The house has usually been cleaned, the laundry done, and sometimes dinner has been made. I’m astounded by my wife, she simply blows me away. If I weren’t sometimes ashamed by the amount of work she can accomplish and still have time to invest in the kids, I would say how proud I am of her.

So, what I wrote may not apply to every mom, to your mom, or even to most moms you know (or think you know). But it does apply to these two, very unique, extraordinary women who have, moment by moment, changed my life.

Being a mother is not all flowers and cute baby smiles, no matter what the magazines and television ads display. The labor that brought your child into the world is only the beginning of a larger, more powerful work that you’ve been involved with ever since.

The strength of a Godly mother is unmatched by the fiercest of warriors, but is paired with the loving tenderness of a watchful eye and caring hand. The beauty of a Godly mother is unparalleled in a universe of wonders and beauties, and yet is as humble as a knee bent in silent service to kiss away an invisible tear.

They say a mother’s work is never done, and they are nearer the truth than they know. With grace and humility you have offered your gifts to the world of your children. Sometimes you have been rewarded with thanks and praise. And other times your best efforts have been met with refusal and defiance. But each time you have risen to meet the challenge of a new day you have declared your intent to provide a life of love and mercy to your children, no matter the response.

So it is for that labor, lovingly offered and gracefully carried out, that we honor you this morning. And with the honor comes our most sincere prayer for blessing, strength, courage, and wisdom to fulfill your noble calling.

May your strength be renewed by the God whose hands never falter in holding your own. May your beauty be enriched by the God who crowns creation with the most lovely of crowns. And may your wisdom flow freely from the God whose understanding and knowledge is beyond depth and limit.

My Confession

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Tue, 11 Apr 2006 12:08:00 +0000

I shared this with our church on Sunday, as part of my reflection on the record of Jesus' conversation with the immoral woman and Simon the Pharisee in Luke 7:36-50.

It has been called by some the world’s oldest profession; an acknowledgement that as long as we can remember there have been people who sell their bodies for the use of others. So there at the feet of Jesus is a woman of a hundred titles, none of them wholesome, none of them flattering.

Her box of perfume broken, tears streaming from the careworn corners of her tired eyes, she sits hunched over his feet with her hair covering their dust. Habit has taught her to avoid looking men in the eye, and so she pays no attention to the gaping mouths and wide eyed stares of men whose contempt for her is exceeded only by their despite for Jesus.

I can watch the scene unfold; see him turn to the dinner’s host and gently inquire of his soul. I can see the breath of the men leave their lungs when he says her sins are forgiven. The corners of their mouths turned slightly upwards in an indignant gaze pierce my sight and soul.

And yet I’m drawn to the scene unfolding not by their contempt for her, nor their calumnies against him. Riveting my attention in magnetic fashion is the woman who sits unmoving save for the heaving of her chest in stifled weeping.

You see, I see myself in her. I hear in her soft, sobbing cry the echoes of my own voice. The tears so salting her cheeks remind me of moments in which my practiced façade crumbles and a light of truth shines in between the cracks.

How often have I sold myself, borrowing from an unknown future the capital for my present comfort? How often have I sold the dreams of God for my life short of their realization? How long has it been since my soul was touched with the gentleness of a loving God, and not used as a commodity in a barter for service?

I confess (do you hear me?) I have prostituted my heart for the praise of a few, and practiced my trade with a calculated desire for success. I have allowed my thoughts to be massaged into something less beautiful, less pure than the creator’s intent. I have believed the insidious lie that the approval, favor, and dare I say flattery, of another would somehow substitute for the gracious forgiveness of God.

And so I find myself sitting here now at the same dusty feet. My eyes spilling unknown tears, splashing the dust from the toes of my teacher. My ears waiting for the words to come; the words that in their being can somehow make me whole.

“Go in peace, “ he says.

I've been tagged...

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 01 Mar 2006 15:31:00 +0000

Ok, so I guess I got "tagged" today in some cyber-form of "tag" in which I now become "it" and have to belly up and provide potentially embarassing information about myself in a world wide forum...

Well, it's really not that bad, so here's the dish:

Four Jobs I've Had:

Dishwasher/Prep Cook at Patty Taft's Jazz Supper Club in Ellington, CT (one of my favorite all time jobs)
Flagman for Atlas Fence Inc. which installed guardrail on roads in CT
Pizza Delivery Man for Domino's Pizza in Riverside, RI
Pastor of New Life Assembly in Wakefield, RI (a pretty good gig as well)

Four Movies I can Watch Over and Over:

Lord of the Rings Trilogy (I've done this, believe me)
The Matrix (the original...)
Tommy Boy
Field of Dreams

Four Places I've Lived:

Ellington, CT (where I grew up, and if you pay attention to my profile a.k.a. "Smellington")
Lewiston, ME (while attending Bates College)
Barrington, RI (while attending Zion Bible College)
Charlestown, RI (where I am now)

Four Shows I like To Watch:

24
American Idol
Red Sox Baseball
Ok, I'll confess: What Not to Wear

Four Foods I Like:

*Written while thinking the list would be shorter if it referred to foods I don't like...*
Coffee (not sure if this counts, but I like to think so)
Popcorn (if not dieting as I am currently I love it movie theatre style, slathered with butter)
Swordfish
Ice Cream

Four Sites I Visit Everyday:

Four Things I Want To Do Before I Die:

Go to Ireland
Write a book
Open a cafe
Visit every Major League Baseball stadium

Three People I Am Tagging:

Andrew McNamar
Nick Bousquet
Rita McNamar (though it's questionable whether she'll respond...)

Immersion: Living on Mission

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 22 Feb 2006 17:35:00 +0000

Good afternoon! I'm blogging to you today again from Java Madness, my favorite coffee shop in town. It's good to sit here, surrounded by people, feeling really, really alive - I love my job!

Anyway, once again I have three short pieces to share with you that I wrote for our Immersion gathering on Sunday evenings. The experience Sunday evening centered on what it means to live on mission with God, as we connect to him, each other and then to our community. We played in the dirt for a little while and shared some good conversation about how we each experience those connections. You'll miss the full effect without the hands-on element, but the written pieces might at least give you some food for thought.

Feel free to comment on any of the pieces anywhere you'd like - let me know your thoughts about what it is to live connected these ways.

Living on Mission: Episode One

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 22 Feb 2006 17:25:00 +0000

Episode One: Making the God Connection

It's just dirt. Go ahead, reach your hands into it. There's something childlike (you might even say childish) about playing in the dirt. Your mom and dad may have told you not to do it, but there was this other voice inside you that often told you to do it anyway. Maybe it was the unconscious knowing that you are dust, and to the dust you will return. Maybe it was the secret knowing that God himself played in the dirt when he created the first man. Or maybe it was just more fun to obey that inner voice!

Under the dirt, waiting for your discovery is a seed. When you walked in you didn't know it was there – all you saw was a box full of dirt. So it is with most of our lives; the best things seem to lie hidden, buried under other layers waiting to be seized upon at precisely the right moment.

Almost as if from beneath layers of dirt and residue, God's voice seems to call out to us hoping we will be brave enough to reach towards him. Hoping we will forget the other voices that tell us to keep our hands out of the dirt, he calls for us to sink our hands deep into the soil, searching for the seed of promise he longs to give us. At times the beginning of the process feels an awful lot like groping in the dark, wishing to somehow hit on the something indescribable that we felt stirring in our souls.

But the feeling of success when you finally make the connection is incomparable. The difficult part is maintaining the connection once it's made, because there will always be other prizes that vie for your eyes, your hands, even your heart. But there is no greater prize than this connection to God; no greater seed of higher promise than the one he buries for us to find. He grasps you more than you'll ever grasp him. But his grasping is not that of command and control, rather it is the liberating call to live your life fully, finally, alive.

You've connected to the source of life – and so life can never be the same again.

Living on Mission; Episode Two

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 22 Feb 2006 17:20:00 +0000

Episode Two: Making the People Connection

You didn’t know it then, but when you connected to God, you connected to everyone else who has joined themselves to God. You didn’t know it, and you may not have intended to, and it might scare you a little bit to think about what that means; but whether you wanted it or not, the connection was made.

The same life and vitality that is flowing into you is flowing into them. They’ve been liberated to follow the calling of the God who holds your future in his hands. And whether you know it or not, you need those people you’ve connected to. You are not traveling to that future on a solo journey, and you will not arrive on your strength alone.

When you rose from the dirt, the God-seed held in your hands, you rose as a new person, with a new network of relationships, some that you’re still just beginning to discover. It is these unexpected connections that will enrich your journey forward. The strange delight of an unlooked for word of encouragement; or the newly discovered pleasure of friends whose hearts and hands hold the same seed of promise – these are yours to be treasured and enjoyed.

You do not have to be left to grope in the dark again. On the other end of your seed will be one, two, or a hundred whose tears, fears, and joys will be your own, and yours will be theirs. Those bonds of love that were formed in the nurturing soil of God’s presence are stronger than any you have ever known. They don’t tear easily because they were made with the strongest of fibers, and they are sustained by the life-giving flow of Jesus’ love. God, the master planter, is creating a bountiful, beautiful garden from those related seeds.

Go ahead and give up on independence – it was an illusion anyway. Embrace the abundant joy of a life intertwined with those making the same journey, it will make the path that much sweeter.

Living on Mission: Episode Three

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 22 Feb 2006 17:15:00 +0000

Episode Three: Making the Community Connection

The seed you grasped in your hand was meant to grow, not to remain in your hands. If you were meant to be commanded and controlled, and to have yourself moved about like a puppet on the strings, you might be expected to hold it fast. But you were called and liberated to live freely, and in your living, to produce more life.

The life flowing to you, from the source, does not end with you. It flows through you, ending in a fruitful connection to the rest of the community in which we have been planted. When you connect to God, holding that seed in your hand, you are promised more than just a better life for you, you’re promised the kind of life that creates opportunities for others to connect to God.

When we think about the beauty of a tree or a flower, we don’t think of it in the seed, or the branches, but in its fruit. When the flower blossoms, or the tree puts forth its fruit, it is then that we look on its loveliness in wonder and awe. The seed you hold in your hand has the potential to be beautiful – all of the splendor that can be is within that seed. The connections you make to others in the garden of God will support you, sustain you and inspire you to keep growing. But without fruit, those other connections will ultimately be in vain.

You will find that this is what you were meant to live for. A fruitful and productive connection to your community will inspire you to continue connecting to God, seeking over and over the source of your life. You will never have been more beautiful, your life never more attractive than when you’ve allowed your seed of promise to come to fulfillment.

Go ahead and eat the fruit – here’s to the promise of a better, more fruitful life!

The Party (Part II - Spiritual)

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 08 Feb 2006 03:10:00 +0000

Good evening…I enjoyed a hand-crafted caffeinated beverage earlier this evening that I would normally call a cappuccino, but didn’t qualify as such. Made some horrible foam, and ended up with a latte - guess you can’t get it right all the time. On the positive side it gave me a chance to explain to my four year old son, Jacob, the difference between a good cappuccino and a latte. I think he grasped it. I’ve consistently told friends that I’m looking forward to the day that Jake can make my coffee for me, maybe that will be some kind of “coming of age” ritual, who knows?

Anyway, I started in my last post telling a parable of sorts that I shared with our church community a couple of Sundays ago. It was a parable in three parts, or with three aspects, so this post will touch the second aspect of the parable.

So, imagine we actually get out of the basement, out of the huddle. Imagine we are somehow able to conquer our fears and allow our presence to be felt in the party to which we invited them. Imagine that we make our way up to the party, accompanied by the King of the Kingdom, who wants his presence to be felt more than anything else.

What would our guests see when they arrived? Imagine with me that they saw a group of people who knew what it was to celebrate. That they saw some people who sang their songs with the passion of a person on a long road trip with the windows down and radio blasting. That they saw some people who laughed long and loud like their life depended on their ability to enjoy it. That they saw people whose joy was written on their faces plainer than their noses. That they saw people who celebrated like this life was not their last, but just the beginning of a greater party.

They might be surprised by just what they saw. Because they know the reputation of these stodgy, arms-crossed, uptight, New England church people. They don’t laugh, they don’t sing, and they certainly don’t show anything with their faces other than looking down long imperious noses at sinners like them. Somehow these people have transformed into the most beautiful and celebratory group, and they can’t help but want to be there.

They see a group of people who know that Spirituality doesn’t drain the joy out of life, but rather infuses it with a greater joy than has ever before been known. And there, in the center of the party, is the life of the party. He’s remarkably at ease in this setting, and it appears that his joy has been transferred to every other host at the party. He’s the King, and even the guests can tell who he is, and why he’s there.

On that mid summer evening with soft breezes blowing and music lightly playing there is something else in the air. It couldn’t be described as faint, it’s too powerful to be faint. It’s what makes the atmosphere electric, it’s what ignites the celebration of these curious saints. This night the party is alive, and at the spiritual center is this group of men and women whose connection to the king is undeniable and tangible.

The Party (Part I - Presence)

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Fri, 03 Feb 2006 02:05:00 +0000

Good evening! I'm enjoying a hand-crafted (by my own hands) cappuccino at the moment, while reflecting on some ideas I shared with our church community this past Sunday. I suppose it was my best and halting attempt at a written parable trying to express my hopes and dreams for how we as followers of Jesus would interact with our local community. It was inspired by one of Jesus' shorter parables, in which he says, “The Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast used by a woman making bread. Even though she used a large amount of flour, the yeast permeated every part of the dough.”

The great power of Jesus' parables are in their ability to catch people off-guard, and, in effect, take the back door route into the hearts of his audience, setting them up for the truth he's delivering. In that vein, I offer my meager attempt at creating at least the framework of a parable to try to communicate truth to our church community.

Imagine with me this morning that we were going to throw a huge party for our community. Imagine if we were going to invite the community to attend our party, and we could send out an invitation in the mail to every single resident of South Kingstown. Make this party in your mind a real high-class affair, the kind that you’d get dressed up for, and that we wanted to make the invitation formal enough to match the occasion. So we send out this invitation that says, “New Life Assembly requests the honor of your presence at its Gala Celebration…”

Believe it or not, our invitations are actually received and accepted. Replies begin to pour in from around the town, with only a few declining the invitation. The tension mounts among us as we wonder what we'll do when they arrive. The preparations begin in earnest as the appointed day draws closer.

Finally the night arrives. It's a beautiful mid-summer evening, with a light breeze blowing off the ocean that makes the temperature just right. And there are streams and streams of cars driving from all over South Kingstown, parking up and down the streets around us, making their way to the doors of the building. Inside the building and out on the lawn the arrangements are all in place. The background music is playing and the scent of perfectly prepared seafood fills the night air. They can see in the windows and under the tents that everything is prepared but that the doors are locked, and there’s no one there to greet them, welcome them, and find their seats for them.

Looking in the doors our guests have the sinking feeling that they've somehow been duped - like guests that show up to a wedding only to find the bride and groom have flown to Vegas and gotten married in front of Elvis and two witnesses. "You would think," one says, "that they would have the courtesy to show up for their own party!"

Meanwhile the church gathers in the basement, huddled together (for strength is in numbers) too afraid (for all their strength) to open the doors and let its presence be felt among their guests. Too afraid that somehow the throngs of people at the door will overwhelm them, and turn against them if the food isn't up to quality, or the musical entertainment for the night is sub-par. Forgetting all the while that the King of their Kingdom has been waiting for the celebration to make his presence felt through them; they retreat, hoping to survive just one more day.

Happy Birthday, Jacob!

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 18 Jan 2006 18:45:00 +0000

Today my son, Jacob, turns four. In case you're bad with math that means that four years ago today, Rita and I were in a hospital room, and she was (admirably and with great strength) preparing to bring our first child into the world.

It seemed like there were literally thousands of emotions that danced through my mind during those few hours that we spent in that room waiting for his arrival.

I had always thought I'd make a good father. Perhaps I was a little too confident in my own abilities, because I soon learned how difficult of a proposition that can really be. It requires great patience when you feel you have very little of it to offer. It requires an unrelenting kind of love that refuses to wilt in the face of intense conflict (if you've ever had a four year old child, you know of what I speak...). And it demands a lot of wisdom and skill that, many times, I frankly find myself lacking.

This afternoon Jacob and I went out to lunch at Friendly's for his birthday lunch (see above photo). I'd like to say it's a tradition, but since this is the first time, I'm not sure it qualifies yet. We had as advanced a conversation as possible as he munched on his grilled cheese and moved quickly to the all-important hot fudge sundae.

Jacob is four, but I feel like I've grown up a lifetime in the short years he has been part of my life. I have learned so much from him, and I can only hope that he's learning some things from me. His quiet and sensitive spirit remind me that patience and compassion are qualities that are reflective of our heavenly father. His inquisitive mind reminds me that there are some mysteries that should still take me by surprise, and that it's ok to say, "I don't know." His imagination intrigues me, helping me remember what it's like to create and dream, and inspiring me to do the same. And his energy - well, his energy reminds me that when you're passionate about something, you find the energy to pursue it.

Jacob, four years ago your arrival into my life brought such light and joy. I see them still in your face today, and I love what I see.

Happy Birthday, Jacob!

Friendship

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 18 Jan 2006 15:45:00 +0000

A couple of weeks ago I wrote to a good friend of mine a short email. The text consisted mainly of a short quotation from C. S. Lewis’ book, The Four Loves.

“I have no duty to be anyone’s Friend, and no man in the world has a duty to be mine. No claims, no shadow of necessity. Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create). It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.”

Tomorrow I will go to help the guy I consider to be my best friend pack up a moving truck as he prepares to move from Rhode Island to Maryland. We’ll see each other again, I’m sure of it. And there’s this great blogging innovation that will allow us to keep opening windows into our souls for each other. But I can’t help but feeling, at least for the moment, that there will be something missed in the distance.

I’ve been reading a children’s book to my two kids almost every day for a week (you parents know how this goes…). It’s about a turtle named Franklin who has a bad day because his best friend is moving away. I don’t know if you’ve ever gotten teary-eyed while reading a children’s book, but it’s a pretty humbling experience. In that little kids book I was seeing the way that moving affects friendship, but was also reminded that it doesn’t destroy friendship, just reshapes it in a new way.

Our friendship has not been one of duty, nor necessity; but I can say without hesitation that it has given great value to my life in this world. Through our friendship I’ve grown as a man, a husband, a father, and a church leader. Through our friendship I’ve learned the value of character, consistency, and most of all, of having a deep and enduring passion for the work of God’s Kingdom.

Friendship may be unnecessary, but it is certainly not trivial. Its beauty derives from its rarity. God has, with this friendship, given me a rare gift. I hope that even as it changes, it will retain its beauty.

Thanks, Dale, for walking with me. And wherever the road winds from here, I trust our paths will continue to meet.

Immersion: Hatred to Love

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Mon, 09 Jan 2006 19:15:00 +0000

Good Afternoon! There are three posts that follow this one that are from writings for our Sunday Evening experience we call Immersion. This month we were exploring how God transforms us in our character from people haunted by hatred, to people living for love.

The written pieces are meant to form somewhat of a journey, and are written for the purpose of reflection, so I'd encourage you to take a few moments in between to think about your own experience as it relates to what you're reading. You'll be missing out on the physical elements (each written piece had a corresponding element, see below) we used on Sunday to add to our experience, but I hope you'll be able to enjoy the experience nonetheless.

The Elements:
Hatred towards others - A broken picture frame
Hatred towards self - A cracked mirror
Hatred meets Love - The elements of communion and a scene from The Passion of the Christ
Love towards self - A mirror (whole)
Love towards others - A picture frame (whole)

Immersion: Haunted by Hatred

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Mon, 09 Jan 2006 19:10:00 +0000

Hatred to Love

Towards Others

Human history is a legacy of broken relationships, of hatred settling under the surface, only to break out in moments of tension and pain. And you and I live in that legacy. Try as we might we couldn’t escape it.

We harbor the anger and bitterness deep in our own souls, hating those who have used us, betrayed us, and beaten us down. We can’t see straight, the cracks get in the way, distorting what we see. The picture is fractured, and we can’t seem to find the glue to make it whole again.

And so we rage at others, sometimes silently, sometimes violently. We hate them for the arrogance, hate them for their hurting us, even hate them for daring to be different than us. We have clever ways of disguising it, but it’s there. “Hate the sin, love the sinner,” we say, while we privately loathe them both.

And all the while we blame the hatred of humanity on those we all can deem worst – the Nazis, the racists, the engineers of genocide and destruction. But, if we are honest, we’d have to pause in the midst of the assigning of blame. We’d have to pause to wonder how we’re contributing to it. We’d have to consider whether our own hatreds of people privately held are any better than those more public examples. We’d have to wonder if we’re not all looking through broken picture frames at each other, throwing more stones, causing the glass to crack even more.

What’s that they say about those in glass houses?

Towards Self

But it can all be a very clever disguise, can’t it? Masquerading as our spite for others is often a deeper issue, it’s the way we camouflage a hotter battle that rages within our hearts – the battle of self-hatred.

There are certain things about us that are exposed only to us and God, and those ugly things that lie somewhere in our hearts haunt us whether waking or sleeping. The arrogance we are so quick to point out in others sleeps unguarded in our own hearts. The greed we condemn so freely growls hungrily from our own hearts. The lust we recognize in the wayward glance of another lurks unchecked in our own hearts. And we hate them for being there, hate ourselves for letting them stay.

Our inability to overcome weakness, our insufferable human frailty; all feed this internal engine of war, bent on our own destruction. We hate and love ourselves, and we can’t decide which will win. We’re torn because, when it comes down to it, we wonder if we aren’t deserving of the hatred of others, and the hatred of ourselves, maybe even the hatred of God.

We’re holding a broken mirror, and even our own image is distorted through its cracks. But when it’s the only image we’ve ever known, well, what can we possibly do with that?

Immersion: Hatred meets Love

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Mon, 09 Jan 2006 19:05:00 +0000

Hatred Meets Love

But the self-hatred is not the worst of it yet. Secretly, silently and even without admitting it, we engage in our own personal cold war with the God who created us. We stare at him defiantly, or look away willingly, but we let him know our intent. Maybe he made us defectively, or maybe we are his royal idea of a divine comedy – a wretched experiment in humor.

If it’s even possible, we seem to resent this God, who, even when we try to follow him, somehow seems at best disinterested, and at worst, opposed. The more we shake our fists in rage in his direction, and the more cruel arrows we fire in his direction, the more compassionate his response becomes. In a very broken way, we almost want him to hate us and show it because death, damnation and judgment might be better than what we think is indifference.

Hatred would be more bearable than that agonizing love. “Love for what?” we ask. “For this pitiful, horrifying thing we call humanity? Anyone who can love this stinking pile of filth and flesh should let his love turn to anger and wash us all away in a cosmic, cleansing tidal wave.

And then maybe you see it. Perhaps for one God-forsaken moment your eyes behold a blood-drenched, mutilated creature; strips of rotten human flesh hanging laid bare by the worst of human hatred and cruelty. You see his broken body violently convulse – a captive form, stretched from end to end as his life pours out, spent like a wrung sponge.

You look away because the horror of the sight is overwhelming. You look away because you can see your own hatred on display. You can see there the rottenness of this human experiment, the blackness of a human heart wracked with hatred – and you know that it is, in part, your own.

Your eyes wish to turn. Your stomach turns within you and begs you to look away. But your heart – your heart tells you to keep looking. You heart tells you that in all of the black filth of human hatred there is a vision of divine love. Your heart betrays your eyes, and you find a beauty somehow deeper than flayed skin and broken bones.

See here this body, broken by hate bears deeper the marks of God’s perfect, painful love. See here this blood shed in violence stains the human heart with the peace of surpassing beauty. You are invited to touch, to smell, and to taste the love of God willingly extended to wash away hatred, and leave you standing like a person newly born – a person who lives to love.

You are loved, and he asks for your love to be given in return. What will you say to that?

Immersion: Living to Love

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Mon, 09 Jan 2006 19:00:00 +0000

Towards Self

Standing there, like a person newly born, we understand at last that the hatred has been washed away, and in its place there has come this living, breathing love.

When you’ve seen your hatred crucify the King of Love, and you understand that it’s been done for the love of you, well, that changes things, doesn’t it? In place of the broken and distorted image, there is a proper perspective, a right way of looking at yourself.

When the King of Love, whose face was twisted and broken by hate looks lovingly back towards you, cries out for your forgiveness and stretches his punctured hand out towards you to receive you, you can see how God changes hatred to love.

Where once you longed to see a new image in the mirror, something without the fractures and cracks, you now are given the ability to see yourself made whole. Your hatred healed by the wounds of love, you stand complete.

It’s amazing, love is greater than hatred. For all of it’s power, hatred cannot create anything, it can only destroy. But love – love can create. Love has created, and it can re-create you. Go ahead, look at yourself. Love overcomes hatred, it will for you if you’ll let it.

Towards Others

Picture perfect. Sight restored. What you couldn’t see clearly in others before, you now can see. When you’ve allowed the King of Love to re-create you, you can’t long live full of hatred towards any to whom he extends his offer of love.

Sinners and saints alike receive the loving attention of your re-born eyes. When the King of Love whispers their names in your ears, your eyes water with gratitude that he could let you love them.

In place of cracked glass that prevented you from seeing your neighbor whole, you have a new frame with which to view the world. But be careful, be very careful. The glass can crack again, if you treat it carelessly. You must guard its newness well.

Do not take lightly this power you hold in your hands – the power to look with love on the unlovely, to freely offer grace where it is least deserved. Do not let yourself fall back into the trap of hatred and anger, or it will ruin you again.

“Jesus replied, ‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the other commandments and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.”
~Matthew 22:37-39

The Promise of Sacrifice

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 04 Jan 2006 19:40:00 +0000

Good Afternoon!

Blogging to you today from my favorite coffee shop - Java Madness, where I'm enjoying a fine cappuccino, prepared perfectly by Rachel (who also happens to make excellent music with her band, Can't Face the Falling).

I've been doing a lot of thinking and praying about this year that has recently arrived, and I have to say, I'm really looking forward to it. I'm not sure why, but I have this almost palpable sense of promise to the year, and I'm excited about the possibilities that God is setting in front of me personally, and our church corporately.

I shared some of my thoughts with our church on Sunday, and I find it only a little ironic that in this year that I'm feeling so positive about, the word that keeps stirring my thinking is "sacrifice".

In the spring of last year, while musing on the future of our church, and my role in it, I came across this scripture from John, chapter 12, where Jesus shares a really powerful (and somewhat dangerous) principle. He says, "...a kernel of wheat must be planted in the soil. Unless it dies it will be alone - a single seed. But its death will produce many new kernels - a plentiful harvest of new lives. Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who despise their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. All those who want to be my disciples must come and follow me, because my servants must be where I am. And if they follow me, the Father will honor them."

I've rarely had trouble applying this truth to my life (at least in theory, practice is another thing altogether). It's almost axiomatic for those of us who've been around Christianity for any length of time that we must "die to self" repeatedly in order to follow Jesus. With all of our talk of this, we'd probably all be able to admit that we've done it far less than we ought to have.

And in reality, I think we've thought less (if at all) of the application of this way of seeing ourselves in a corporate, local church sense. Perhaps the church in its local application needs to be continually in this process of dying to itself in order to really be faithful to the One we are called to represent.

I'm going to do my best this year to lead our church to reflect on what it would mean for the church to die to itself in order to be reborn in the image God wants to create for us. I have a sneaking suspicion that it's going to be somewhat painful, maybe a little messy, and a little fearful. But I think I've realized that if we love our life as it is right now too much, we're going to become overly attached to it (its building, its programs, its budgets and structures) and we may end up passing on something better that God has prepared for us in our efforts to hold what we have.

We've been given this seed, it's been placed in our hands. Our building, budget, and resources of all kinds have been entrusted to us. I wonder if in order to maximize our return, and really make the investment eternal, we have to sow them into the ground, let them die there, and allow God to resurrect them.

I hope to find on the other side of this process of following Jesus' example that we will find, in Jesus' words, that "the Father will honor them."

Random, Disconnected Thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 14 Dec 2005 18:43:00 +0000

1. Joy is much more powerful than I ever realized.
2. Despair goes deeper than I ever imagined.
3. My hope is not enough for you, it can only point you in the right direction.
4. Grace is good. Really good.
5. My kids know more than I do. Really, they do.
6. For instance, Jacob knows that 10 minutes is a long time.
7. Aislinn knows that she has me wrapped around her finger with a wink and a smile.
8. I take my wife for granted way too often. Thanks, Rita, for sharing this life with me.
9. Reading The Lord of the Rings trilogy helps me rekindle my faith. It's too complicated to explain, but the story moves me in very deep ways.
10. True friendship is a gift that can't be easily replaced. I'm learning how valuable my friends are.
11. I give gifts because I want to be accepted, to be received and embraced. And I want to offer the same.
12. I have an amazing job. Thank you, God, for letting me serve you this way.

Hope Rekindled

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Tue, 06 Dec 2005 19:06:00 +0000

Here's another piece I wrote for our Sunday evening gatherings, called Immersion:

We came from hope. There is light that cannot be touched by darkness. Beyond this world; beyond this dark and cold desert of despair, there is the God of hope. There is the one who gave birth to a world full of hope, and who watches it descend over and over into the depths of despair.

He watches, and sometimes he watches the hope die inside of us. Some days it is crushed under the insufferable weight of earthen expectations incapable of being fulfilled. Other days hope is drowned in the icy waters of loneliness and isolation. And still other days hope dies a suffocating death at the hands of those who seem bent on our destruction.

But as often as hope dies, there is the possibility of its rebirth. The flame may be extinguished for a moment, but the God of hope will not long leave us drifting in the dark and cold. Flames can be kindled again. Whether buried in earth, quenched in the water, or suffocated, they can rise again. They must simply find their way back to the source once more.

For as much as we might believe that we have lost hope, the enduring, beautiful reality is that hope has never lost us. While we may sit in the ashes of dreams long ago extinguished, he sees us, and he knows us.

He is the one who was not content to watch the descent from a distance. He is the one who, in the form of a man, experienced the blackness and coldness that is death. He is the one who saw hope fail while his own blood brightly stained the rough wood of a crude cross.

But somehow, impossible as it might seem, hope has escaped from despair. Death did not have the last word, there was life, and light, again. You may have lost your way, but the Way has not lost you. He is finding you, longing to ignite your candle once again to burn bright with his hope.

The Improvisational Life

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 16 Nov 2005 02:05:00 +0000

Welcome back!

Now brewing one of my absolute favorite blends from Starbucks - Caffe Verona. This time I get the privilege of darkening it with a small bit of cream fresh from the farm, and sweetening it with just about a half teaspoon of sugar.

I just looked back over recent posts and realized the blogging funk I referenced on my birthday has continued - I've really gotta do something about that...

This past Sunday I was talking to our church about the possibilities of living an improvisational life. I was thinking about the reality that when Paul has to repeat his story of conversion and calling before those sitting in his judgment, he continually connects himself with historic Judaism, but also tells how he is reaching forward. He's connected to the past, but creating the future.

The analogy that came to me (with a little help from Doug Pagitt's book, Preaching Reimagined) was of a jazz musician playing an improvised solo. He can improvise not because he ignores all the rules, but precisely because he is deeply aware of the rules of music. He knows how the chords progress. He knows how good melodies are composed. He knows how the music in the piece has led up to his moment, and he knows where the piece is going when he's finished his solo. Because he knows this, he is able to play with confidence and passion - and what he plays is beautiful and compelling.

Sometimes when we are following the Way of Jesus at work in the world, we doubt our abilities and permission to improvise. We end up playing someone else's song, written with someone else in mind, and we play notes written on a page rather than improvising the song God places in our soul. We have tremendous freedom to improvise within the Way of Jesus. We were not re-born to simply play someone else's song. We were re-born so we could play the music written on the surface of our soul.

Sometimes in improvisation you're going to hit a wrong note. Sometimes you're going to miss the way the music has flowed in the past, or mistake the direction it's going in the future. But living an improvisational life is always going to be more God-honoring than simply following some script, convinced we have no freedom to play the music God freed us for.

Start playing. He's listening.

Immersion - Fear to Faith

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Thu, 03 Nov 2005 12:38:00 +0000

Good Morning! Welcome back, I'm glad you came. We're presently brewing Starbucks Kenya Bold blend. If you were here, I'd make you a cup myself, and make another one for me. All this despite the recent discussion I had with my doctor who says that some of the indigestion/heartburn, etc. that I often feel in the morning could be at least partially alleviated by a reduction in the amount of coffee I'm drinking (which is actually not a lot compared to some intake amounts I've heard from others...)

I wanted to post some of the writings from our last Immersion Experience here for you to read, enjoy, and interact with if you'd like. We explored the journey from people dominated by our fears to people who live with a dramatic faith and confidence in the God we serve.

God takes us from fearing failure to anticipating success (symbolized by the tastes of horseradish and honey):

Let’s start with the obvious – no one likes to fail. We don’t wake up every morning looking for the next big thing that we can mess up. We don’t lie awake at night wondering how we’re going to change the world with our next great failure. So often we try like crazy to insulate ourselves from failure. We do the things we know we can do because what we don’t know can hurt us. Failure tastes bitter. It leaves a bad taste in our mouths. And once we’ve tasted its sting, we don’t want any part of it again.

But as hard as it is to imagine, or for us to swallow, we often taste failure before sweet success. And when it comes to dealing with God, what we don’t know, can actually heal us. Sometimes we forget that, if we’re seeking to follow Jesus, then he is working with us. And that even in the bitter aftertaste of failure, he may be preparing the table before us for the flavor of sweet success. We may need to be reminded that in the presence of laughing and mocking enemies, he sets the table for our celebration and delight.

With God, all things can become new. Failure’s taste does not have to ruin your palate. God wants to help you taste the honey again – in this life and the next.

God takes us from fearing rejection to embracing acceptance (symbolized by the smell of rotten tomatoes and roses)

Rejection stinks. Worse than being pelted with rotten tomatoes is the lingering sense that you somehow don’t belong. Perhaps somewhere deep inside we all struggle with where and how we belong. Maybe even the most self-assured, confident individuals wonder about their place in the world. After all, it’s a big universe, with a lot we don’t know. And what (or who…) we don’t know can hurt us. It can reject us, turn us away, and set us adrift on a sea troubled with waves of loneliness and fear.

But as revolting and horrid as the experience of rejection is, much more beautiful and pleasant is the experience of acceptance. The familiar feeling of being turned away can be overwhelmed by a single, welcoming embrace of acceptance. When it comes to God, what we don’t know may actually heal us. No matter where you’ve been, what you’ve done, or who has pelted you with the rotten tomatoes of rejection, the God who created you is waiting to accept you.

With Him all things can become new. The stink of rejection can be swept away, replaced by the beautiful scent of the red, red rose.

God takes us from fearing change to celebrating freedom (symbolized by a blank canvas on which participants can paint):

You can only stare at the blank canvas for so long. It will not paint itself. Images won’t appear on its surface without the hand of an artist picking up a brush and applying the paint. “I’m not an artist,” you counter, “I can’t paint.” That might be what you say, but you don’t really mean that you’re afraid of picking up the brush, putting some paint on its bristles, and applying the paint to the canvas. You mean that you’re afraid that when you make those changes to the canvas, they’re not going to be acceptable to anyone else. It won’t look like what you think it should, or what you think they think it should.

No, you’re not going to create a masterpiece on your first attempt. The blank canvas of your life stares back at you, waiting for something to be created; you need to pick up the brush and find the freedom God wants to give you. Because ultimately it’s not your hand at work on the canvas of your life – it’s God’s. And his desire is to take your fears, and set you free to live the life of his dreams.

With Him all things can become new. Your blank canvas is about to become a masterpiece – can you believe the beauty?

God takes us from fearing loss to enjoying sacrifice (symbolized by a musical selection: “My Immortal” by Evanescence)

We start losing things at an early age. We learn to find ways to protect our stuff – toys, books, and others – from those who would cause us loss. You soon figured out how to say, “Mine!” to the intruders who came into your home and played with your possessions. We grow up, the possessions become more expensive, the relationships more complex and yet the fear of losing what’s important to us never seems to go away. Whether possessions or people, we can become borderline obsessive about our need to hold on to what we have. What we don’t know about what we might lose can hurt us, and so we cling to what is ours like a three year old to his favorite toy.

And so haunted by echoes of losses past and hunted by fears of losses future we hold fast to the known. Grasping for what we have, we fail to see the joy of a beautiful sacrifice. Believing we can control only what we own, we stubbornly refuse to freely give anything or anyone in offering to our creator. But hear the mysterious strains of the song of sacrifice, calling down from the ancient past as the cross of Christ sings to you. As backwards as it seems, Jesus says that the one who chooses to lose his life and all of its possessions now will find a greater, more enjoyable life; and the one who chooses to keep what he has will lose it in the end, because it can’t be kept anyway. What you don’t know, what lies on the other side of the sacrifice, can actually give you life.

In the sacrifice, everything becomes new. Your song is being sung, your music has changed.

Turning on Word Verification for Comments

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Tue, 01 Nov 2005 00:39:00 +0000

Hi! Welcome back and thanks for stopping by.

This is mostly a post as a matter of information. Due to the recent advent of comment spamming on my blog, I'm turning on word verification for the comment feature. It simply means that if you want to comment, it'll take you an extra 5 seconds or so to do so because you'll have to type in the letters you see in the bottom of the window that pops up for your comments.

Sorry for the inconvenience this causes, but I guess it's a necessary evil for the moment.

The World is Flat

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Tue, 25 Oct 2005 12:24:00 +0000

I saw this book a few months ago while browsing around at the local Barnes and Noble. The title intrigued me, and I made a mental note to check it out at some point. My birthday brought me some extra cash (thanks to anyone reading this who contributed to that...) and freed me up to buy some books - something I hadn't done for quite some time.

Friedman's topic is globalization, what he calls the flattening of the world, creating almost unbelievable partnerships that are unlimited by the boundaries of nations and states. He writes in a pretty accessible way considering the depth and breadth of his topic, and I've enjoyed my reading to this point.

He writes about the ten forces that flattened the world, ranging from political events (the destruction of the Berlin Wall) to economic principles to technological advances. One of these in particular stood out to me - he calls it "Open-Sourcing: Self-Organizing Collaborative Communities". I couldn't help but think about how much that sounded like what the church was supposed to be. And then as I read this particular section, I came across this great line in which Friedman is quoting some guy I've never heard of before (Irving Wladawsky-Berger): "This emerging era is characterized by the collaborative innovation of many people working in gifted communities, just as innovation in the industrial era was characterized by individual genius." (Emphasis mine)

Going back a couple of months to my musings on synergy, I kept hearing a description of the church in those phrases. What if we were known as a place where the collaborative innovation of gifted people was always taking place? What if when people heard the word, "church", they thought of that image rather than of a place that valued standardization, conformity, and uniformity?

I was so excited when I read this. Here's a guy writing a book about globalization in the 21st Century, probably mostly for an audience of people interested in how their business is going to fit in this new flat world, and I'm hearing echoes of God whispering to me about what the church could be. It's amazing how people validate through their research and study things that God has been saying for a long time. Paul wrote in I Corinthians 12 that "there are different kinds of spiritual gifts, but it is the same Holy Spirit who is the source of them all...a spiritual gift is given to each of us as a means of helping the entire church."

If the world is flat, then the church should be the organism best suited to lead the way forward into the 21st Century. Can you imagine if Thomas Friedman had to write his next book about the ways that the church is leading the movement of collaborative innovation among individuals participating in gifted communities?

Turning 30...

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Wed, 12 Oct 2005 16:48:00 +0000

Ok, I'll admit, my recent posting to the blog has been, well, not recent at all. Sorry for that, I'm going to try to do better.

Today's my thirtieth birthday. Thirty years ago today my father tells me that Luis Tiant was pitching the Red Sox to a victory in the first game of the 1975 World Series. Actually, The Baseball Almanac tells me that Dad's memory is off by one day. In fact, on Sunday October 12, 1975, Bill "The Spaceman" Lee was pitching, and the Sox lost 3-2 as the Reds scored two in the ninth - it was all downhill from there. Recorded in my baby book in my mother's handwriting is the simple statement, "1975 - it was the year the Red Sox almost won the World Series."

Boy, a lot of rain has fallen since that rainy day 30 years ago, and much water has passed under many bridges (including, of course, the Red Sox immortal triumph in the 2004 World Series). And I'm left here pondering my mortality.

I've recently been wondering what it is about this transition, this epoch-marking passing from 29 to 30 that feels so significant. I'm left to think that this past decade has involved some of the bigger changes in my life. In 1997, at the ripe old age of 21, I stood at the altar of a West Virginia church and took vows to love, honor and cherish the joy of my life. A year later I graduated from college, and got my first "real" job; working as an Assistant Pastor in a great church in Rhode Island. A little over a year after that I left that church to become the pastor of New Life Assembly, the place where I currently serve as pastor. In January of 2002 Jacob was born, and then a short year and a half later Aislinn arrived in the world. A lot has changed from 20 to 30.

All of those changes have, in fact, been for the better in my life. My wife has made me a better man. My children are teaching me patience day by day. The church in which I serve has been so gracious and generous with my youthful enthusiasm (and let's be honest, youthful errors as well). God has been at work in some major ways in the last decade of my life. I trust that he's got more planned for the next decade as well.

I'm left today, on a dreary autumn day in New England, thinking that more than ever I want to make my mark for the Kingdom of God. If it takes another decade of huge and significant changes, I'll embrace them knowing it moves me closer to the place God wants me to be, and to the person God wants me to be.

Here's to 30! None of this perpetually 29 stuff for me. This last decade has taught me much of who I am, now it's time for who I am to, by God's grace, make the difference I was called to make.

Immersion - The Story of God

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Mon, 19 Sep 2005 14:50:00 +0000

Welcome Back...

I've been in a bit of a blogging funk the past couple of weeks. Not sure why, just the way it goes from time to time I suppose.

There are going to be four posts today of some short pieces I wrote for an event we held at our church this past Sunday Evening. We're calling it Immersion - a chance for us to be immersed into the story of God at work in us and the world. There's an introductory movement and then three that follow. I hope you enjoy them.

Movement One:

Day before days to be numbered
Night before daynight was sundered
See without sight,
Spark before light
Look with the eyes of your soul.

What you see is not all there is. What you cannot see is more real, more solid than the ground on which you sit tonight. This story begins in a time when day and night meant nothing; and in a place where light and darkness walked together. It commences cloaked in invisibility.

Can you see what you don’t see? When you see the stars, can you see through their light so distant to a moment so distant when nothing exploded with light and heat and something was born?

Sound before music is rendered
Wind before whispers remembered
Echoes resounding
Universe bounding
Rings with the sound of his voice.

The wind whispers with the sound of a voice whose source is the music of the universe. You’ve heard it. You hear it echoing in your ears when you let the silence linger. You hear it in your own voice when it shakes with the smallness of life.

Can you hear what your ears don’t capture? When the ocean’s tide pounds the shore, can you hear in its roar the distant sound of a moment so distant when the first notes of the first symphony first sounded into the air and the universe began to resonate in the key of God?

Love at the center of being
Mystery is in you revealing
Beating of heart
Speaking in part
Of love you wish you had known.

Your heart beats with the cadence of an unearthly poetry. Your feet keep time with the rhythm of an unseen drum. You are not alone. You’ve never been alone. There is a love that has pursued you all the days of your life, and though you have run, and though you have attempted to hide, you cannot escape. You don’t want to escape. You want to be found.

Can you feel what your heart has longed for with its every beat since the day you were born? When you listen to a poet’s verse can you feel in your heart the distant rhythm of a distant moment when a perfect heart beat with a perfect love for a person who had not yet been born?

The story begins there, in those distant places, but it has flowed through millennia and centuries to this moment. Though your journey has wound through many twists and turns, it has brought you here tonight, to be immersed into the story of God at work in you, and in this world, even though you may never have recognized it.

Immersion - Hatred to Love

noreply@blogger.com (Keith) — Mon, 19 Sep 2005 14:46:00 +0000

Hatred is such an ugly word. Perhaps it is most hideous when we see it in ourselves. Hitler, Stalin, the White Hoods of a KKK rally – these all jar us as disembodied and distant images of hatred. We recoil at their mention, not wanting to be bothered with the thoughts and feelings they arouse. But when the hatred is closer to home it’s harder to ignore and suppress.

“You don’t hate, though.” At least that’s what we tell ourselves. But maybe we’re wrong. Maybe we hate what we don’t understand. Maybe we hate what makes us uncomfortable. Maybe we hate the one who is unlike us simply because we can. Maybe we hate ourselves, because we’ve never been able to be comfortable in our own skin. Or maybe, when it comes right down to it, we hate the idea of God.

God is easy to hate as long as we consider him to be the grumpy old man sitting in his big La-Z-boy recliner in some remote corner of the universe who is too old and crotchety to get up and do anything about all the bad stuff that’s happening in this world. God is easy to hate when we can’t seem to figure out why he made us the way that he did. God is easy to hate when we envision him as the Cosmic Hater.

But when the rhythm of his love some day overwhelms you, and captures your imagination, it becomes more difficult to hate – not just him, but others, and even yourself. When God the Cosmic Lover steps in our direction to embrace us, it’s possible that our defenses will relax and our hatred will melt away.

Do you remember when you first knew love? Do you remember the way that life was in that moment? Calling to you from across the distances of time and space is a God who has pursued you from before the moment of your birth. His love is seeking you, seeking to show you what love is, and how hatred has deformed and broken you.

You were followed here tonight. You’ll be followed when you go home. But it’s not because someone is hating you and hunting you. It’s because someone is looking to love you. Turn around, go ahead – you’ll see.