Loving Embrace

I was surprised by the man’s question.  It seemed to be born out of feelings of guilt and shame.  It was formed in a perception of God and his own failure that clouded the ability to see clearly. He asked, “Doesn’t a just God look foolish loving us unconditionally when we have messed up so much?”

I did not have time to formulate a response, let alone an answer, before an image of a woman, and her son, who lives in my neighborhood filled my mind.  The picture of the two of them gave me the answer long before I could formulate any words.

The son has both Autism and Tourettes Syndrome. His Autism can cause him to feel overwhelmed by the stimulus of the world or give birth to frustration which grows from his becoming fixated on something he cannot have.  This makes it difficult for him to regulate his emotions.  It can manifest itself in inappropriate outbursts, physically aggressive behavior, and loss of control.  Throw in the effects of his Tourettes Syndrome which causes both physical tics (involuntary movements involving the entire body, such as kicking and stamping) and vocal tics (the involuntary use of obscene words or socially inappropriate words and phrases) and it gets even tougher.

When my neighbor discovered her son had these challenges, she began to learn all she could about how to help him.  One of the things she was taught was when he was feeling overwhelmed by the stimulus of the world and found himself unable to control his responses he needed to be held and held tight.  This deep pressure touch had a calming effect on him.  Because of this, her response to his inability to regulate his emotions and to the verbal and physical behavior which would result was to embrace him.

There were many occasions in our neighborhood when he would be playing outside, something would push him to his limit and he would become overwhelmed.  Him mom would come to him and embrace him, holding him tight. Upon initial contact he would struggle and fight against her, but she would hold firm.  Often the Tourettes would kick in and an onslaught of inappropriate words and phrases would be unleashed at his mother.  She knew in her head that it was the syndrome speaking, but knowing it could not always cushion the blow that the hurtful words would have on her heart.  Yet, any wounding she may have felt did not keep her from continuing to hold on to him.

There in the yard they would stand, him writhing and yelling, trying to get away, and the mother holding him in love, trusting the deep pressure touch would eventually have its calming effect. That is the image which filled my mind and what I believe is the answer to the man’s question.

Not once did I ever think she looked foolish holding her boy.  While she may have at times felt embarrassed by the display, for me watching it was always a gift.  He may have been thrashing and flailing about, and spewing harsh and hateful words but it did not change her response. She simply held him.  It was an embrace born out of love and it is tangible picture of God’s response to us.  

There is something very powerful in recognizing God does not reject or turn away from us, even when we thrash and flail about or spew harsh and hateful words, but rather embraces us in love, even when we are our worst selves.  I am thankful my neighbor and her son have helped me to see this.

The man’s question betrayed the fact he has a hard time envisioning God’s love like this.  Maybe he wasn’t lucky enough to have a neighbor like mine. The truth is, many of us have a hard time believing this is how God love us.  We may even fight against the notion when we first encounter it, but thankfully His love is not dependent upon our response.  He is not concerned about how others might perceive it, or how foolish He may appear. Our attempts to push Him away do not deter him. His love embraces and holds tight.

There is much security in this.  Maybe, like the boy across the street, we should allow this deep pressure touch to have its calming effect and let it to lead us to a place where our soul can find rest.

Those Pesky Little Shoots

There is a tree on my street which is prolific at scattering seeds which sprout and take root in just about any soil which is available.  I find these tiny seedlings in flower pots, flower beds, cracks in the sidewalks, and just about any other nook or cranny where there is enough dirt and debris to allow the small amount of moisture necessary for the seed to sprout.  

Honestly, I have a love hate relationship with this tree.  Arguably, I live on one of the prettiest streets in Long Beach because the trees on both sides of the street are mature enough that their canopies stretch out over the asphalt and touch in the middle of the thoroughfare.  This makes a natural arch, the beauty of which can hold its own alongside some of the great cathedral ceilings of the world.  I am thankful for this.

On the other hand, one of the trees which make up this vaulted ceiling casts upon the wind hundreds, if not thousands of seeds each year, many of which I find growing in my yard. I find them in the front flower beds. I find them along side of the house. I find them in the flowerpots in the back yard.  I even find them in the alley.  They are not hard to spot.  I have become very familiar with their leaves and can recognize them immediately. 

When they are tiny, they are more of a nuisance than anything else.   They are not that hard to pluck out of the soil, especially if I do it as I am watering the plants.  However, if I allow them to get a bit bigger they hold their ground and a little more effort is needed to dislodge them. And if I do not see a seedling which has taken root for some time and it grows to a foot or more they can be downright difficult to remove.  It pays to catch them when they are small and there is a never ending battle to do so.

Several weeks ago I was walking from one building to another at a place where I do a little work.  Outside of one of the entrances was a large flower pot which had been outfitted with a trellis and planted with a climbing, flowering vine.  I had barely glanced at it when I notice the pot also contained one of the shoots I am constantly trying to eradicate from my yard.  The leaves were unmistakable.  My first thought was these trees are going to take over the world if we are not careful. My first reaction was to pull up this unwanted invader.

Unfortunately, this was not a new shoot.  It had been there for a while; so long in fact that it was hard to tell which plant had more rights to the space, the flowering vine or the tree.  Normally, when you find them there is one long shoot with a few leaves.  This one had grown large enough to have several shoots coming from the base and branches starting to form.  The fact it was so established made me all the more determined to remove it and restore the pot to its rightful owner.

I reached down, grabbing the base of the shoots firmly and gave a good tug.  When I did not only was I able to lift out the tree, but also the entire ball of soil, the flowering vine, and that trellis came with it.  This invasive specimen had weaved its roots so firmly into the soil and around the roots of the other plant that I was sure I would not be able to remove it without killing the other plant or dislodging the soil from the root ball and spilling it all over the deck.  The only choice I had was to allow the entire clump made up of the flowering vine, tree shoot, trellis and soil to settle back into the pot.  I must admit, I was a bit disappointed. Because of the tree on my street, I have become somewhat of an expert of removing this particular species of tree shoots and I hated to admit defeat.

Walking away I wondered how long it had been growing there.  I wondered how many people had walked by it before, without ever noticing it was there.  For those who saw it when it was small, I wondered if they had any idea of the impact it would one day have on the plant which was intentionally placed in this pot.  I wondered why I had not seen it before.

As I was pondering these things, I also began to think about how something very similar happens in our lives.  Some invasive thing is blown into the fertile soil of our hearts.  It could be a bad habit, a destructive lie, a distorted desire, or a particularly enticing sin and it takes root and begins to grow.

If we notice it when it is small, it is not too difficult to pluck out. If however, it grows a bit, it gets more stubborn and a little more effort is needed.  Allowing it to increase in height also allows it to increase in strength, making it much more difficult to remove.  By the time it produces multiple shoots and branches it is darn near impossible to remove without some kind of major intervention. What if rather than waiting for them to grow and take significant root in our souls we simply took the time to pluck them out when they were small.  How much hurt, pain and grief could be avoided?  How much easier would it be for the good vine to thrive?

I think the answer is a lot.

What if we simply took a few moments each day to prayerfully examine the soil of our hearts and asked God to help us identify and remove anything which has invaded the space where it is not intended to grow?  Imagine what it would be to discover these things when they are small and much easier to pluck out.  I think it would go a long way in preventing them from entangling their roots around our hearts and would save much consternation in trying to remove them after they have had an opportunity to firmly establish themselves.

It could be such a simple prayer.  "Lord help me to see those things which are taking root in my heart which do not bring life or which prevent me from growing into the freedom you have given me.  And Lord, help me to remove what I find."  It is simply a willingness to recognize what is attempting to take root and to ask for help in removing it.

Are you willing?

Of Gifts and Guessing

I have a unique talent which was developed over years of practice.  I can pick up a beautifully wrapped Christmas present, assess its size, feel its weight and with a slight shake of the package, tell you what is inside.  I do not know the exact percentage of accuracy in on my guesses, but it is pretty high.

I could tell you this gift of prognostication came naturally, but it did not.  It was developed over the years by sneaking into my mother’s bedroom and looking at the gifts before they were wrapped.  Knowing what was going into the boxes before they were incased in printed paper, ribbons and bows gave me an opportunity to develop knowledge of what each item felt like when it was in the box. This greatly increased my ability to guess what was inside of packages where I did not know what was inside.

On the odd occasion when I did not get to the presents before they were wrapped, and I could not guess what was inside, I would carefully unwrap the package, take a peak, and then rewrap it with such precision that no one could tell I had ever touched it.  This of course was an awful practice, I do not recommend it, but it did further develop the ability to judge what was inside. It also taught me how to wrap packages very neatly, a skill I still employ every Christmas.

I eventually give up the practice of peaking at the gifts before they were wrapped, and I have not unwrapped a present and rewrapped it since my sophomore year of high school.  Part of the reason for my change in behavior was because I was convicted of how wrong my actions were, and part of it was because I became so very good at guessing what was inside, I no longer need to rely on this shameful practice. My reputation, however, still precedes me and my children will accuse me of wrong doing if there is any suspicion I may have had access to any unwrapped gifts.  Sin does have its consequences.

Eventually, I even gave up the practice of guessing, though I must admit I am tempted to pick up a package and shake it from time to time.  I could see how the joy of giving was robbed from the giver when I would pick up a gift, feel its weight, shake it, and guess what was inside.  They would delight when I was wrong, but when I was right, they would be deflated.  Watching their joy leak out like the air from a balloon which has had its knot untied and the lip released is not a good feeling.  No longer wanting to steal their joy, and cause such disappointment I decided to give up guessing.

Before I did, there were of course times, even when I employed my best my efforts and skills, I could not guess what a present held.  If I had not reformed my ways and I had been shaking presents and guessing what was inside, this Christmas I would have been stumped.  My son Michael gave me a gift I would have never guessed in a million years.

The package Michael gave me contained a dagger which was fashioned to resemble a weapon which might have been used in Middle Earth, the mythical land from Lord of the Rings. Now, I think most men I know would tell you that a knife is always an appropriate gift.  Maybe it is not always needed, but it is always wanted, and enjoyed. A smile came across my face as I removed it from the box.  With anticipation, I gripped the hilt in one hand and the sheath in the other and proceeded to draw the blade from its scabbard.   You can imagine how surprised I was when I could not separate the two.  I made a comment about it not coming apart and with a bit of disappointment, assumed it must be more of a showpiece than an actual dagger.  I thanked Michael for the piece of decorator art, but I must admit I was a bit puzzled at why he thought this was a gift I needed.

My bewilderment was offset by Michael’s excitement.  He proceeded to tell me why he gave it to me.  He told me it was indeed an actual a dagger, but he had found a way of bonding the blade and the sheath together so they could not be separated.  He explained he had been watching me for the past two years and had witnessed occasions when I had the opportunity to retaliate for the harm done to me, but chose instead not to. He knew I had the means to do so, but did not.  He likened it to having a dagger at your side and leaving it in its sheath.  He said he believed it took greater strength to keep your dagger in its sheath than it does to draw it, and he wanted to give me a gift which let me know he had seen such strength in me.

Immediately my confusion turned to understanding, and what moments early seemed an impractical gift now held great value.  You can imagine how humbled I was, how honored I felt and how precious this present instantly became to me. 
I wish I could say my heart was always in alignment with the sentiment Michel expressed.  It was not.  There were times when harm was done and I wanted nothing more than justice, but, even though I am by no means perfect, by the grace of God and the empowerment by the Holy Spirit, I have been able to keep my dagger sheathed.

This ability was not born out of an exercise of strength, but in a desire to live in the Kingdom of God now, a kingdom where enemies are forgiven and blessings are given to those who curse you.  To do so it has been necessary to cultivate a willingness, not to deny my desires for fairness and justice, but to acknowledge them and turn to God in trust, knowing He may be about something far bigger than I can see or understand. 

There were times when I found myself wanting to pull the dagger from its sheath.  When this feeling would come over me, I would cry out to God and ask for help in trusting Him. 

Scriptures like Psalm 27, which begins with the words, “The Lord is my light and my salvation - whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life - of whom shall I be afraid?” and ends with the hopeful declaration, “I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord” became the place I would turn to reorient my heart to the reality God could be trusted and would provide the help I needed to keep the blade in its scabbard.

While my emotions may have been bidding me to take out the blade, I knew in my gut, exercising this kind of trust and choosing to wait on what God might be doing was the only way to experience the fullness of life which is available to us.
This life is something I have been growing into over the past two years.  I did not start out where I am now, and I am quite certain I have not yet arrived where I will one day be, but having said this, there is something deeply meaningful in being presented with a gift which gives evidence those closest to you can recognize who you are becoming.

Despite the gift guessing skill I developed in my youth, I had no way to discern the contents of this package by its size, shape, weight or any amount of shaking. In truth, even if I could have detected the box contained a dagger, I would not have had any realization of what was really being given to me. I was being told by my son he could recognize the source of my identity and strength, and a willingness to turn to in trust to the One who can not only help, but rescue.

Of all the things I have longed to impart to my son, these make up my deepest desires and hopes. Knowing he has seen them not only gives meaning to the gift, it also makes the journey of the past two years that much more precious, for the fruit it is producing is some of the sweetest I have ever tasted.  I am indeed seeing the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

It was a very good Christmas!

The Dreamer in Me

I have been a dreamer all my life.  When I was a child, my favorite book was called Me and My Flying Machine by Mercer Mayer.  It was the story of a boy who went into a barn and built a plane out of old scrap wood and bushel barrels.  This winged flying contraption then lifted him into adventure.  I spent many of my summer days out in the neighborhood collecting scrap wood to build my own mode of transportation from which to explore the world.  I was smart enough to know I would not be able to fly, but that did not stop me from constructing go-carts which would take me down the road and into adventure.  

As I got older, and wood got harder to find, I began to entertain other dreams.  I dreamed of things like walking the Inca Trail, hiking with my son on the Wonderland Trail, Kayaking with the whales off the Johnston Straight, and going on pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago.  I have been a lucky man.  These dreams and many more have come true.  In fact, I have been so very fortunate in seeing my dream become reality that my wife now gets a little worried when I begin talking about something which seems a bit outlandish.  Where the wives of other men might just let the idea hang in the air, knowing in just a few days it will probably be forgotten, Tammie knows if I start dreaming about something, there is a good chance it is going to happen.   

This can disturb her at times.  I see her get particularly unsettled when I talk about living in a house that is only 500 to 700 square feet.  She also gets a bit anxious when I tell her by the time we retire, I only want us to own what will fit in two backpacks. She has not yet adopted these dreams as her own, but I keep trying to win her over.

Before you get too worried about Tammie, if you know her, you also know she is no pushover and will not be cajoled into doing something she does not want to do.  The fact she possesses this strength is probably why she is free to allow me to dream.  She knows I will not move forward unless she is all in.  This is because one of my biggest dreams was to marry someone just like Tammie, and all other dreams play second fiddle to her.

Recently, I have had a new set of dreams being birthed within me.  They have not come out of children’s books, or hiking magazines, but out of a deep desire to see what I read in scripture lived out.  They might seem like the stuff of fairy tales because they may be seen as coming from a far away Kingdom.  This realm, however, is not one which existed in some distant land or long forgotten memory.  It is not a place relegated to a future hope.  It is a kingdom which is available and present now.  This fact excites me.  Knowing, at this very moment, we have the capacity to enter its dominion and live as its citizen inspires me.  The journey there is a far better than any of my old go-carts could ever deliver.  When I dream of what it would be to live in this present kingdom:

• I dream of a place where it's people who are known by their love and humility.
• I dream of a community where unity is not built on conformity, but on love.
• I dream of living alongside those who understand what it is to forgo being served, in order to serve.
• I dream of a gathering of people where selfish ambition is be supplanted by selfless love.
• I dream of a place where people exercise their freedom in choosing to sacrifice for their brothers and sisters rather than indulge their own desires.
• I dream of a group of people who do not cut others down, but build them up.
• I dream of being part of a people who are so rooted and grounded in their identity, as dearly loved children of God, when they are wronged that they have the capacity to turn the other cheek and bless those who curse them.
• I dream of a place where love covers a multitude of sins.
• I dream of a place where people have enough understanding of the human heart to know when people behave poorly it is often a symptom of a deep wound which they carry with them, and rather than simply trying to correct the behavior, they recognize God’s invitation to partner with Him in healing the heart.
• I dream of a group of people who understand the issue is not what we eat or how we celebrate, but of righteousness, peace and joy.
• I dream of a place where anger, slander, malice and bitterness are put off and repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation and restoration win the day.
• I dream of a community where all who enter find love, acceptance and peace.
• And I dream of a place where perfect love cast out fear, and trust is ever present.

I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture.  At least I hope you do, because I have been imagining just such a place, filled with just such people for quite some time, and I am hoping there are others who have been dreaming of the same things.

Every dream I have ever had which has materialized, whether it was building a go-cart out of scrap wood or walking 500 miles, did so because at some point I had enough belief it could actually happen that I started to live as if it would.  I think the same is true with these dreams.  They way they will become reality is if we simply start living as if they are not only possible, but can and will actually happen.  

I also know seeing these dreams come true is going to cost, not just time and effort, but my own desires, comfort, feelings of security, and at times my own sense of what is fair.  I believe, however, it will be worth whatever price is exacted, for what ever is lost, is sure to be gained in a good measure, pressed down and overflowing.  I believe it, but I also have to pray, "Lord, help my unbelief" because at times, in the short term, living like this seems to cost more than what is gained.

Then again, attaining any dream requires a season where you walk in the hope of what could be, rather than what you see.  Would you dare to hope?  Can you dream of what it would it be to be part of a community of people who lived out these dreams?  I can, and often do. I imagine it would be powerful and life giving.  I know it would be healing.  It would be full of peace, joy and love.  It would also be filled with abundance, beauty and freedom. In short, it would be heaven on earth, a dream come true, and because I have a thing for seeing dreams become reality, I intend on living as if they will.

I hope you do too!

My Mentor, Wayne Henthorn

Yesterday, I had the privilege to speak a few words at the funeral of my mentor and friend, Wayne Henthorn.  I was asked to speak from the perspective of a staff member of the church.  I was blessed to serve alongside of him for over 20 years.  During that time he passed on to me much of his life and calling. 

If Pastor Keith, the man I wrote about last week, taught me how to pastor, Wayne taught me how to lead selflessly, and love sacrificially.  Given the few minutes I had to speak, I could in no way capture all of what Wayne meant to me, and to the church where he invested his life, but I tried. Here is what I shared.

Not long after I came on staff at Bethany I started meeting with Wayne for mentorship.  We met for years. In our times together, Wayne imparted his knowledge of the church, what he had learned about leadership, and what he was still discovering about following Jesus.

Some of what he shared was simple and practical like: Do the hard things first, there was no reason to be worrying about them all day long. 

Some were convictions like: Purpose over preference.  What was unique about Wayne’s leadership was he did not call people to give up their preference, without being willing to lay down his own. No one gave up more of their own desires during Wayne’s tenure as elder chairman than he did.

Then there were the things Wayne was willing to die for, like Unity.  Having endured the hurt of the church split in the early 1980’s, he never wanted the body to go through that pain again. 

Wayne would say splits do not happen because of the congregation, but because of the Elder board. Maintaining unity at the board level was his highest calling. I remember planning for the construction of the Foxhoven Ministry Center.  At the meeting where we first proposed the project, one of the elders had significant reservations.  We did not make a decision that night. Wayne fully supported moving forward, but he was unwilling to run over a fellow Elder to make it happen.  After the meeting, I asked him what we would do if the man could not bring himself to support the proposal.  Wayne’s answer was emphatic and immediate, “We will not build it.”  He knew unity was more important than getting what he wanted.   He also knew as the Elder Chairman, he had to lead by example.

Wayne’s leadership created a very stable environment in which the staff could carry out our calling.

Wayne often said his job as Elder was to remove barriers for the staff.  Sometimes this meant building walls in the pastor’s office to make room for a sectary.  Sometimes it meant taking the hard meeting so the pastor would not have to.  Sometimes this meant, as Wayne would describe it, blocking down field so the staff could move the ball.  Because of Wayne’s willingness to serve the staff in this way, he took many hits on our behalf, in the process he freed us to do the work of ministry. 

What many may not know is how creative and funny Wayne was.  He supported the church and his bride by building many of the sets for the Children’s musicals.  He built backdrops for the worship services and made sure his house was appropriately decorated for any party which was thrown there.  Few knew the care and creativity Wayne would put into creating a space where people could hear the Gospel and celebrate with one another.  Sometimes, he was also roped into being the MC or doing a monologue at a church event.  He had a dry, witty sense of humor which could fill the room with laughter

After Wayne’s passing, someone said to me they hoped to finish as well as he did.  I smiled, remembering Wayne tell me how he drove the bus for Bethany in the early 1970’s, bringing hundreds of Children to Church.  While they were in Sunday School, he and some of the other drivers would skip church and go to breakfast.  I was shocked, the Godfather of Bethany skipping church.  I was also encouraged to know this dark secret of Wayne’s past.  It meant he not only finished well, but he finished better than he started. 

Maybe you have driven by the Bethany over the past few years and seen Wayne standing in front of the church with a hose in hand.  Taking care of the flowerbeds was anything but a demotion for Bethany’s finest elder chairman, it was a very tangible opportunity to walk in his father’s shoes, the man who had modeled for Wayne what it was like to lead, serve and die to himself. His father served in leadership at Bethany at the board level, but he would also come down on Saturday nights to water the plants and sweep the front sidewalks.

While Wayne was tending the flowers, he was also thinking about this church.  As he tilled the soil, he prayed for the ministry, leaders and people of Bethany.  This church and its people were always in Wayne’s thoughts and prayers.  In them, he had invested much of his life, for to them, he had given his heart.

While Wayne will be missed, his legacy lives on in those into which he poured his life.  I am thankful to have been one of those people.

Keith Wells is the Real Deal

I did not know much about Keith Wells when I first started attending Bethany Church.  I was too interested in a college student named Tammie to pay him any mind. I knew he led us in worship, and as he did, he worshiped.  I knew the church had stood by him when his wife made the choice to leave. I knew he wore his wedding ring long after she left because, despite all the pain involved in the breakup of his marriage, he had made a covenant commitment to his bride and he would not be the one to sever it. I knew he held on to hope there would be reconciliation and the relationship could be restored. I also knew he loved people and hugged a lot. This was all I knew in the beginning and in some ways it told me all I would ever need to know about the man. 

In Keith, I saw a man who worshiped God with his whole heart.  I saw a man who was willing to hope and trust, even in the darkest of circumstances. I saw a man who was willing to remain faithful long after most of us would have removed the ring from our finger and moved on with life.  It was a powerful example to a young man who was still learning what it meant to follow Jesus and trust him with his whole heart.

                                                                                                                                                                

After graduating college and finding a job hard to come by,  I was offered a chance to make a little money working as the handyman at Bethany.  If you have ever worked a job like this you know how it lets you see the attitude and character of those who are above you.  You quickly find out who is arrogant and who is not.  Keith was not.  There was nothing I had to do in my job which Keith was not willing to do himself.  Like the one who was willing to get up from the table and wrap a towel around his waist and wash the feet of his disciples, Keith’s identity was so securely anchored in the Father's love there was nothing which was beneath him.  He knew who’s he was and this knowledge gave him the capacity to serve without reservation.  

Years later, I would watch him lead worship in the service with great delight and an hour later find him caring for the physical needs of one of his adopted sons, with the same enthusiasm.  In one instance, he stood before a congregation.  In the other, he was behind the closed door of his office. He approached both opportunities to serve as an act of worship.  Watching him live like this was both instructive and beautiful.

After I moved into an administrative role at the church, we went through a summer of transition.  Four staff members left in a very short period of time.  It was the first time I had experienced such change.  I did not know how to walk through it.  I invited Keith to lunch and asked him how he weathered such storms.  He told me, “Ronnie, I do not serve any man.  I honor the leadership God has placed above me, but I keep my eyes focused on Christ. He is the one I serve and follow.”  Keith was not giving me the “churchy” answer; he was sharing with me the perspective with which he ministered.  I knew when I heard it; I needed to make it my own.  I was privileged to watch him live this out for 28 years as a congregant and fellow staff member.  In the process, I discovered Keith was the real deal.

It was not too many more years before I was given a position at the church where I was responsible for the staff.  How in the world could the former handyman hope to be able to exercise authority and responsibility over Keith Wells?  What I found when I moved into this new area of service was how supportive Keith was to my leadership, and how gracious he was in allowing me to lead.  He was patient with me as I grew into my role.  He supported me.  He encouraged me.  He would listen to me and point me back to Jesus when things got heavy and burdensome.  While we did not always agree, we were able to walk in unity because our relationship was not born out of our roles and responsibilities.  It was centered in Christ’s love and the interdependence we shared as brothers and members of his body.  These were things Keith modeled and which I grew into.

The day leadership told the staff I was being let go was a very hard day.  After staff meeting, I went back to my office.  I was feeling lost and rejected.  Keith followed me.  He closed the door behind us and embraced me.  We wept.  He affirmed me and spoke belief over me.  He admitted his confusion in the circumstance and told me he would never choose what was happening.  It felt good to hear someone say it and know they meant it.  He then called me, as my brother, to put my trust in Christ.  Jesus was the one to focus on, not on the circumstance.  This message had been Keith’s gift to me throughout the years, and because of the consistency of seeing him make this choice in the hard circumstances of his life, in that moment it had power.

When I heard the news about Keith being let go I went to his house.  He was not home, so I camped out on his front porch and waited for his arrival.  I wanted to follow him into his house, close the door behind us, embrace him and weep.  I wanted to speak words of affirmation and belief over him.  I wanted him to know I was with him, just as he had been with me. 

When Keith and Barb finally arrived home, we embraced on the lawn and then we went inside.  We talked for hours.  We did shed tears, but there was also laughter.  I was able to speak belief over him. I affirmed all God has done and will continue to do through him.  When I finally left, however, I had the oddest feeling. I had come over to encourage and lift up my brother, and somehow I left feeling as if I was the one who had been encouraged and lifted up.   Somewhere in those hours of conversation, Keith had imparted to me once again the hope and trust which has been such a constant part of his life in Christ.

I was given a copy of the letter which had been sent out to the congregation.  It said leadership felt they could no longer employ two worship leaders and they made the hard decision to let Keith go.  This was hard for me to wrap my mind around, because I never thought of Keith as a worship leader.  Yes, I know he led worship at the church for over 40 years, but I still never thought his primary role was putting together a service.  I have always thought of Keith as a pastor, who happens to lead worship.  His imprint on the body was always so much greater than the service he led on Sunday, no matter how good it might be.  

Keith’s true gift to the body was as a shepherd who cares for its people as Christ would.  He creates communities where everyone was welcomed, accepted and loved.  In being part of one of these, you tasted what the Kingdom is meant to be and what a leader who is entrusted with a portion of the Good Shepherd’s flock ought to be. As a leader, Keith models a life of commitment, grace, service, humility and intimacy with Christ.  Because of the way he serves, the communities he creates, and the character he demonstrates I honestly do not think it would have mattered what role Keith played on the staff. In any position he would manifest the love and compassion of Christ, lead people to grow in their experience and knowledge of Jesus, and encourage their growth into his likeness. This is what every pastor should strive for.  It is what I see in Keith. It makes him valuable.

I am a better pastor and follower of Christ for having watched him and serve alongside him. He helped me understand that being a pastor was a calling not a job, and caring for the people in the body of Christ was not a burden but a great joy. Watching him, I saw what it looked like to ground everything you did in love.  I also learned to look to Jesus in every circumstance and to find joy in him.

For all these reasons and so many more I celebrate my pastor, mentor, brother and friend. Here is to you Keith Wells.  I stand with thousands of others in declaring our admiration for the man you are, our gratitude for how God has used you to help us become more like Jesus and above all else, our affirmation that in you we see the image of Christ. In you I have always seen the traces of the sacred.

P.S. If all this were not enough, Keith also makes the best chocolate chip cookies ever. 

In N Out - that is what California is all about!

When I was walking the Camino de Santiago we would often sit around in groups at the end of the day having a glass of wine and getting to know one another, especially early on.  We would ask simple questions like where are you from, or why are you walking the Camino.  If there were other Americans, from other parts of the country, in the group as soon as I mentioned I was from California one thing would come up, “In N Out Burger”.

Despite the fact we have miles of beaches, wonderful National Parks, landmarks like Hollywood and the Golden Gate Bridge, what most people who have visited California from other parts of the Untied States talk about and long to return to when they come back to California is “In N Out Burgers”.

It is hard to blame them.  This hamburger joint, which was established in 1948, uses only fresh ingredients (even cutting their own fries as needed), makes every hamburger to order and simply tastes great.   There menu is simple, because they simply know what they do well and they stick to that.  What is not to like?

I know people for whom, when they travel to California, the first place they head after leaving the airport is to an In N Out.  While they are in California they will eat multiple meals there, and when they leave, they start talking about their next trip and their next Double Double.  Given this fact, it should not have surprised me how many other Americans found my access to In N Out Burger as the best part of my being from the great State of California.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are other hamburger stands and I imagine there are people who are just as loyal to them.  In fact, here in California, you will often see a row of fast food restaurants, often several hamburger joints, one right after another.  I imagine there are people who are loyal to all of them.  Others examples might be, “Five Guys Burger and Fries” or “The Habit”.   

There are differences between these establishments and there is room for honest debate.  For example, where as In N Out has a simple menu, Five Guys allows you to put just about anything on your burger.  Some think the creativity afforded by Five Guys makes it a better hamburger place. 

My wife, for example, likes a Five Guys hamburger with cheese, A1 Sauce, and grilled mushrooms,   You cannot get this at In N Out.  If you asked for it the guy, in the white shirt and red apron with the big safety pin holding it up, behind the counter at In N Out would probably say something like,” I am sorry we do not have A1 Sauce or grilled mushrooms.  If you had your heart set on A1 and mushrooms, this would be a disappointment for sure.  You might even counter, “Well that is how I like my hamburger and that is what I want, couldn’t you make an exception?” 

At In N Out the answer would be, No.

Maybe you are persistent and go back and forth for a few minutes and a line begins to form because it is taking too long to place your order.  Eventually, the man behind the counter might, in the kindest way possible (because that is the kind of people In N Out hires) suggest you head over to Five Guys, because that is the kind of burger they make. 

You might be unhappy about this, but you have to admit it seems fair.  It is a hamburger stand for heaven sakes and here in America, especially in California, we have lots of choices when it comes to hamburger stands.  If you do not like the burgers one place serves you simply go to another which suits your taste.

You simply do not see this in Europe.  Maybe this is why the Europeans seem to think the enthusiasm for In N Out Burger is a bit overdone.   If you come across a burger place in a city in Spain, and you really want a hamburger, you had better stop and eat, because it is likely you will not find another soon.

The experience of the scarcity of these kinds of restaurants in Europe, now that I am back at home, has caused me to notice here in America our fast food restaurants are built in clusters.  You will find two or three on a major corner or several of them in a row on a street.  This is purposeful.  Social scientists have theorized if you place a variety of choices in a central place, people will be willing to drive there to do business.  In this case, each restaurant will likely have more business, even though they are next door to their competitor, because more people are willing to drive to and frequent the area.

While noticing this, I have noticed something else; our churches are built the same way.  You will often find two or three on a major corner, and I know of several streets near me where there are four or five churches in a row.  It is almost as if our churches have recognized the marking strategy of the restaurant industry and decided to employ it when choosing a place to locate their buildings.  I guess the thinking is, you are more likely to drive to church if there are lots of churches in the area.

Unfortunately, churches have not stopped there.  Many have also adopted the attitude of the guy behind the counter who says, “Sorry we do not make it that way here, maybe you need to go to another restaurant.”  This is perfectly legitimate for someone who is making hamburgers, a place where they produce a product for you to consume.  This, however, is not the purpose or function of the church.

The church is described in scripture as a body or a family.  Both are images of interdependent systems which do not function as effectively, or at all, if you start removing their parts.  In fact, when talking about these images the Bible speaks of the stronger members of the community serving, sacrificing, and even giving up their freedom for the sake of the weaker brothers.  It speaks of those members of the body which seem to be weaker as being necessary and those parts of the body we deem as less honorable are being given more abundant honor.  

These are not descriptions of places where products are created to be consumed, but communities in which people are valued, grown and matured. The Bible, it seems, has made no provision to say to your brother, if you do not like it there is another church down the road you might want to try. 

It must grieve the heart of God that we build our churches and pattern our behavior after the hamburger stands which surround us.  The Church is not an organization dedicated to meeting a market demand.  We are a people, set apart by God, which has been charged with making his Kingdom known.  This community is to operate on a completely different economy than the world which surrounds it.   We are to live up to the high and noble calling which we have been given, not employ the strategies and practices of our favorite fast food chain.

The Apostle Paul puts it this way in Ephesians 4: “I implore you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling with which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, showing tolerance for one another in love, being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as also you were called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all who is over all and through all and in all.”

Again in Colossians 3 he says: "So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience; bearing with one another, and forgiving each other, whoever has a complaint against anyone; just as the Lord forgave you, so also should you. Beyond all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body; and be thankful."

It seems it is in unity and love, not in diversity of choice, that we live into our calling and manifest the Kingdom of God.  I wonder what the result would be if this is what we called people to, rather than presenting them with the choice of simply going on the next hamburger stand, I mean church, down the road.