I'm Still Just Me, Even After 'After'.

Recently an acquaintance gestured toward me and said to someone I was with: "Look at him, he's so fit! I hate him!" and we all laughed.
...but it made me think, and ponder. And then my courageous friend Darcy put this blog post on Facebook. It is a wonderful snapshot into the life of a young woman whose weight loss experience has brought her to a new perspective. I can totally relate.
I used to think "I hate myself, because I'm fat." but then somewhere along the way I realized I had it backwards. I was overweight because I used food as a comfort...because somewhere deep inside I was unhappy with who I was as a person; considered myself of no value to the people or world around me; of no significance. (cue pity party theme music and clips of George Bailey stumbling through town.)
And once I realized that I really could like myself, even love myself -- not just in spite of my flaws, but BECAUSE of my flaws (the strongest reasons for needing to experience love and acceptance from others and from myself!), then the weight began to come off, and I began to exercise and even discovered I liked that too, for various reasons.
And today, being at a healthy weight is sometimes a really scary thing for me, since my identity as a "fat guy" and even a "guy who used to be fat but who is now losing weight" took up so much of my life that to be "the guy who is not overweight" is frighteningly new sometimes and I don't know HOW to be 'that guy'. That guy who is "...so fit!" that someone else says (there's often a little truth in every jest) "I hate him!"
Yeah, me too, sometimes.
Because while it is true that as I lost weight and have kept it off, the use of food as a comfort and a run-from-the-internal-pain-of-the-moment tactic has sometimes been easier to avoid, sometimes it has been monstrously difficult.
Some days I experience freedom and I can just sit. And just. Be. With myself. And I look in the mirror and see past weight and height and body image stuff, and I can look directly into my own eyes without shame or judgment or guilt or condemnation. I see the work I've done to get free, while also acknowledging the inadequacy to have done it on my own. Creator and those placed around me have upheld me in this and so much more. And I feel connected and alive and vibrant and strong.

Other days I look in the mirror and I see the fat guy inside the thin guy. I may not have as much excess skin as the courageous Matt Diaz but I have enough 'sharpei skin' to make taking my shirt off in public an embarrassing thing still, sometimes. So that extra stuff is what I see. The stuff that will never come off; the 'hard lard'. And in that place of guilt and shame and condemnation and self-judgment, I sometimes experience a return to the slavery from which I was set free, and I eat without thinking and without really being present, and then I feel shame and guilt so I want to eat more, and then I feel worse, and so then I... Well, you know.
Vicious cycle.
These days instead of running away from myself I most often run into myself, and I do the work of digging deep and praying and asking hard questions of God and Cathy and close friends and even paying a professional counselor from time to time. And I do the even harder work of actually receiving their love for me. I allow them to love me when I can't love me, and in that space I allow them to teach me how to love myself in healthy ways. Because here's a little nugget for you to chew on:

Healthy self-love is sometimes just as elusive at a healthy weight as it is at a morbidly obese weight -- harder even, since there are no outward signs that I or anyone else can point to (like a big gut, or a number on a scale) and say "See!?!?!? UN-LOVABLE!!!! ...because of THAT!"

And I'm learning to move past the fears and the doubts and I can see so much love and hope. And I love to eat good food, especially when I am really present to the sensory experience and enjoyment of it at each bite. And with each bite I try to remember how it used to be, and be grateful for who I am today. Who I *AM*, not how I look, or what I weigh. I may be grateful for those too, but that is ironicaly immaterial.
Today I weigh 170 and my goal weight is 158. But whether I'm 158 or 170 or 258 or 370, I am still me, and I am still worth loving, and I'm the only me I can be -- so I am me, unapologetically, flaws and all. In process, yes; always. But I don't think I'll ever reach "After".

As the blogger in the linked article so eloquently says:
"There’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow of weight loss because the rainbow has no end.
There is today. There is now. There is during. There is life."
Today, I'm living life.
During.
~ Keith

Death's Sting is Fleeting and Weak

I find it hard to put into words the depths of feeling I'm experiencing right now. My long time-friend, mentor & spiritual example Mark Macallister took his own life earlier this month after a long battle with depression and chronic pain. He leaves behind his amazing wife Jody and two beautiful and wonderful kids, Levi & Bree. This picture shows their family together and at peace.

My heart hurts quite a bit right now due to the tragic, senseless and sudden loss of so bright a light as Mark shone to the world around. He was gregarious and compassionate and had friends in such a wide range of places I was almost always surprised when someone I knew said "Oh, Mark? Yeah, I've known Mark for years". He would never be the one to shine a light on himself, always demuring and deferring to others in a humility that was so natural and secure.

Mark exemplified to me the heart of love and care for others that is the best description of the word "Pastor" I know. It was primarily his influence in my life that opened to me the possibility of giving my life away to others in this pastoral way as well.

Living as followers of Jesus, Mark and I shared a hope that there is something beyond this life -- something which defies description although better men than me have certainly tried. I do take comfort in knowing Mark is "in a better place" although that rings so hollow in my ears because his current experience is so much richer than that little phrase could possibly convey, but also beacuse that little phrase sounds so trite and weak when placed against the pain of his loss to my heart.

I do also take comfort in knowing that death itslef was never supposed to be part of our story -- and so it will be done away with in the final analysis. And so I have a deep appreciation for John Donne's classic poem as well. I'd heard the opening line many times of course, but seeing "Wit" with Emma Thompson really galvanized within me an appreciation for the epochs-long wrestling match with death we humans have undergone.

Death be not Proud
By John Donne
1572-1631

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

Requiesact in pace Mark, until we meet again when death itself has been put away.

~ Keith

A Week at an Abbey

I recently spent a week at an Abbey in Mt. Angel, OR.

I thought I was going there for some solitude; some silence. Apparently I was wrong.

I did spend a significant amount of time alone, and being quiet, and that was nice. It was restful and restorative -- but I learned some things about solitude and silence I was not aware of before. Some I learned from my reading, and some I learned from just being there, alone. A Monk's room is sometimes referred to as a cell -- and it has been said

Go into your cell,
and your cell will teach you
everything you need to know

I wish I had more to say about it here, but I had such rich time journaling and reading and being alone with God that I feel no need. =)

If there are specific questions anyone has I am happy to answer them either here on the blog in comments, or privately in eMail -- but simply chronicling my experience here (which is what I might have done in the past) strikes me as something which would somehow take away from the experience.

~ Keith

Why I Remember 9/11

Do you remember where you were on 11/22/1963?

Perhaps many of you reading this do not know the significance of that day -- it was the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated. For decades that one question unified a nation. I was born after that date, although not long after. I remember hearing stories of where people were, what they were doing, how that one moment in time would forever be galvanized, burned into their psyche; into the psyche of an entire nation and world. It was a day when hope was lost, when dreams were shattered. But America remembered. In his famous inaugural address he had stirred the hearts of the nation with his challenge:

My fellow Americans: Ask not what your country can do for you -- ask what you can do for your country

America responded. We went to the moon and did other great things. For years people remembered where they were on 11/22 because it brought them back to the hopes and ideals of a better day.

As time wore on fewer and fewer Americans remembered 11/22. We had no one moment to hold us together. Until 9 years ago today. Now we have a new question to ask ourselves:

Do you remember where you were on 9/11/2001?

But why do we remember that date? I can think of several noble reasons. We remember the lives that were lost and grieve. We remember the lives that were saved by everyday heroism, and our hearts are uplifted. And we remember the unity in New York and elsewhere, when people who were complete strangers suddenly trusted one another, helped one another, were simply there for one another.

In the past 9 years we have also chosen to remember 9/11 for ignoble reasons. We remember the Islamic Extremist Terrorists who perpetrated the atrocity, and hate them for the injustice they wrought in pursuit of religious fundamentalism. We remember out of fear of complacency -- I humbly submit it is one thing to say "Remember..." it is quite another to say "Never forget!". We remember because we've allowed bitterness and misunderstanding to twist and wrench our unity into division. The beautiful togetherness New York and all of America experienced in the aftermath of 9/11 has somehow become less about "All of us together" and more about "US against THEM".

I'd like to propose 2 excellent reasons to remember 9/11 -- they are why I make it a point to remember 9/11.

To do this, though, I need you to hear me out on a couple things, so I appreciate your patience -- this will be a somewhat lengthy post, as editing for brevity has never been my strong suit. Also, things I say here will likely ruffle some feathers and anger people. Please understand me: I'm not writing this post to be inflammatory or argumentative. I'm simply choosing not to shy away from it, because I believe it is true.

Let me start by telling you a brief story -- see if you can figure out where I'm going.

Once upon a time in a beautiful and powerful land, people were shocked and outraged when hijackers, religious extremists bent on Holy War (the worst of all possible oxymorons) invaded a great and mighty city, laying waste to buildings and innocent people, as a way of saying "We reject what you have done to our world, and we're paying you back".

Now let me tell you the same story and see if you can pick up my subtle inference:

Once upon a time in a beautiful and powerful land, people were shocked and outraged when hijackers, religious extremists bent on Holy War (the worst of all possible oxymorons) invaded a great and mighty city, laying waste to buildings and innocent people, as a way of saying "We reject what you have done to our world, and we're paying you back".

The only difference is that thousands of years ago it was the Christian Extremist Terrorists who perpetrated the atrocity, in Jerusalem, to rout the evil muslims who had taken over the city.


THE FIRST REASON I REMEMBER

I think the first reason I remember 9/11 is to stay in touch with the fact that the US against THEM mentality has been around for a lot longer than the good ole' U.S. of A. -- and to remember that what happened on that day did not make THEM worse than US -- that what we lived through on that day did not somehow make US better than THEM. America is a great country, and I'm glad I was born here. But if I make remembering 9/11 something merely patriotic, I am missing the depth and gravity of history. If 9/11 is just a reason to wave a flag, I'm somehow cheapening the human history we all share with the peoples of the world.

Not long after 11/22/1963 came 4/4/1968, when Dr. Martin Luther King was assassinated. I was in Memphis on that day. My parents were out bowling and my 4 sisters and I were at home. I don't have any of my own memories of that evening, but I remember it was a scary time for the city and for the country. Before his death, Dr. King had this to say about violence and hate.

The ultimate weakness of violence is that
it is a descending spiral,
begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy.
Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.
Through violence you may murder the liar,
but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.
Through violence you may murder the hater,
but you do not murder hate.
In fact, violence merely increases hate.
So it goes.
Returning violence for violence multiplies violence,
adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.
Darkness cannot drive out darkness:
only light can do that.
Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Yet somehow we stay fixed on US against THEM. US against THEM is ingrained in us. Ask any parent who is simply trying to drive across town, but has to deal with "He hit me!" which is, invariably countered with "HE hit ME FIRST!"

If we try to rationalize our hate and violence by claiming it is justifiable retaliation or, worse, somehow sanctioned by God, then we are being worse than childish -- we are being lunatics, cowards; idiots.

Which brings us to today. 9/11/2010. We remember -- but how and why do we remember? We have fanatics who want to burn the Qu'ran, and people putting patriotic images as their facebook profile pictures for a variety of reasons. And we have the raging controversy about "The Mosque at Ground Zero" which sounds more like "The Moth that Ate Chicago" or something equally blown out of proportion.

You wanna hear something controversial?

You wanna know what I think?

I think it is foolish that people are outraged by a building 2 blocks away from ground zero which will contain a section set aside for prayer and reflection, sponsored by an Islamic cultural center -- when if we are really concerned about injustice, what we really ought to have right at the center of ground zero is a memorial to the Native People who were swindled out of their land by the bullies who cloaked their greed in a false religious piety to "save" the "savages". In that memorial maybe we can include places of remembrance for all the hatred we've fomented and (woe is us -- actually encouraged our friends and taught our children) to spew against the Japs, the Krauts, the Chinks, the WOPs, the Niggers, the Kikes, the Spics, the Limeys, and the Pollacks. Don't forget the Queers, the Homos, the Fags, the Dykes, the Lesbos, the Hippies, the Gypsies, and the Frogs. And over in a corner, we could have a new section for the Ragheads and the Hajis.

I say we need a place to remember how awful we have been. How awful we have been. How awful WE have been. Oh my God,

How Awful We Have Been

to other human beings because THEY are not like US so we fear THEM and hate THEM and forget that we are them; they are us.

In that famous inaugural address President Kennedy invoked US against THEM imagery with almost every paragraph. At that time, it was the Commies, the Pinkos, the Marxists that were THEM (maybe we could have a section of my suggested ground zero memorial dedicated to THEM as well). Despite this, in the 60s & beyond, we as Americans did our best to remember the challenge, and we asked what we could do for our country. I suppose this may be why for so many, remembering 9/11 is about being patriotic, about being American.

But somehow we forgot President Kennedy's next line. Immediately after that challenge to his fellow Americans, he said

My fellow citizens of the world: ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.

Freedom. That has such a depth of meaning, but I believe the deepest, truest meaning has to do with freedom from evil itself, and a freedom to love others.

Like President Kennedy, Dr. King also called us to a new hope; challenged us to a new mindset

Man was born into barbarism
when killing his fellow man
was a normal condition of existence.
He became endowed with a conscience.
And he has now reached the day
when violence toward another human being
must become as abhorrent as eating another's flesh.

Ancient tribes used to not only kill their enemies, but eat them, believing this would give them the strength their enemies had. Dr. King said that committing any violence against another human should make us as nauseated as the idea of eating their flesh.

Hmmmmm. I seem to recall reading about a teacher from long ago, before 9/11, before MLK or JFK, before the crusades. His name was Jesus and he had a large following; gaining steam. He said some controversial things though. One time, as recorded by his best friend John, he said this: "Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life". You can read the whole story in context here, but suffice it to say that one comment really freaked people out, as well it should. The end of that story says "From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him."

Jesus also said that even harboring hate against someone in my heart is the same as murdering them.

And Jesus, on the same night he was betrayed and sold into hands of his executioners by one of his followers, had one last meal with his closest friends. He used the bread and the wine that night as symbols and again invoked the imagery of eating his flesh and drinking his blood, as a way of somehow gaining his strength; his very life. And then (referring, I believe, to the common act of eating a meal together) he said this

As often as you do this, remember me

Many say Jesus called us to remember his sacrifice for us, and I suppose this is true. But when I "take communion" I am also remembering the fact that I am his betrayer; that violence lives inside me and I have a choice to follow love or hate. I remember that at my core I am deeply good and made in the image of my Maker -- but that image has been savagely torn and left to tarnish from disuse.

An ancient prophet named Isaiah had a mystically spiritual yet powerfully physical encounter with God. You can read about it here. When face to face with the Maker of All Things, his response was to say "Woe to me, for I am undone." Note -- the word "undone" literally means un-made, torn-apart, disintegrated. It means blown away: like either a child blowing away a wispy dandelion or a nuclear blast blowing away a city. So why was he so undone? He goes on and says "For I am a man of unclean lips, and I come from a people of unclean lips."

Did you catch that? He didn't point to anyone else and say "THEY did stuff to ME first!" He pointed to himself first, and identified with ALL people second.

America is a great country, and I'm glad I was born here. But if I make remembering 9/11 something merely patriotic, I am missing the depth and gravity of my own depravity. If 9/11 is just a reason to wave a flag, I'm somehow glossing over my own deep impurities with a little swatch of red-white-and-blue.

So if the first reason I remember 9/11 is to identify with others and the horrible US against THEM history we all share, then


THE SECOND REASON I REMEMBER

I think the best reason I remember 9/11 is to stay in touch with the fact that I am Osama Bin Laden. I am the betrayer, the terrorist, the hater; I am evil. I remember that at my core I am deeply good and made in the image of my Maker -- but that image has been savagely torn and left to tarnish from disuse.

I remember 9/11 so I can remember that violence lives inside me but in that same moment I remember I have a choice, and instead of hate I can follow love.

I implore you to do the same, on this and every day, and I wish you Peace.

~ Keith

This is my contribution to a campaign by Sarah Cunningham, who has called on faith bloggers to offer goodwill on the anniversary of 9/11. What did you think? Please share your thoughts and feelings in the comments.

For more on Remembering 9/11, you can read some great stuff by:

Chad Estes -- Remembering 9/11

Jon Reid -- Jesus Loves Muslims: A 9/11 Letter

...and at the bottom of their posts, are further links

Plate Spinning

I had a sort of epiphany this morning while running. I like it when that happens. I'm running along and my mind is clearing out, and suddenly an idea pops into my head, so I start to play with it. Then, before I realize what's happened, I have a whole new outlook on something, because my perspective has been turned inside-out, in a really good way. These moments seem to happen more often when I run than at other times of the day.

This morning I was thinking about being stressed at work and had an inside-out-turning of my perspective that was really great. Before I share that with you, I have to let you a little deeper into my world so it'll be more meaningful.

In my job as a Hospice RN I have to stay flexible with a host of shifting priorities and that constant shifting is a major source of stress for me. I know many people face similar challenges, so let me share my unique situation.

My perfect day at work is when I am scheduled to see Mr. A, then Mr. B, then Ms. C, then Mrs. D, then go home, and that is exactly what happens. But it is rare. Usually it is very different.

Let's say it is Tuesday and I am scheduled to have the perfect day. But if Mrs. D calls in the morning saying she is having a problem, maybe I can help her over the phone, but maybe not -- I may need to see her first and reschedule the other patients. Or what if Mr. G calls and is having a problem? Now I need to see him today instead of Thursday, and that may mean bumping one of my other patients to a different day. Maybe I come to work and find that Mr. B died last night. I may not need to go to his home today, but maybe I will. At least I'll make a phone call, and offer emotional support. Or maybe I come to work and find a message on my Blackberry that Ms. N is going to be a new patient and it is my responsibility to introduce her to our services -- which means I'll need to dedicate 4+ hours to this process, which means shuffling other patients around...

You get the picture. Now let me complicate it further by telling you that on average I care for 10-13 patients at a time. And patients are people. And people who are facing life-shortening illness sometimes have changes happen quickly, and they need me to help them in those times.

I love helping people, but I hate it when my perfectly planned day gets tossed out the window -- whether that happens at 1:15pm or 8:15am.

When my schedule changes, I often grumble and complain inside, but then I feel bad about it because after all these are PEOPLE who are DYING I am dealing with, and I should be a better sport about the whole thing (especially since, HELLO!, I intentionally CHOSE to go into this line of work). So not only am I stressed about the shifting priorities but I feel bad about being stressed. Then I cut myself some slack and remind myself I'm human too, and as such I get the grace to be imperfect and have needs and faults.

So my priorities get shifted every day, and that stresses me because it feels as if I am being pulled in 15 different directions all at once. It feels like this:
Do you notice how he looks like he is having fun?

I don't get that.

Maybe that's because if he drops a plate all that happens is people laugh and he says "oops". But in my job the plates are people so if I drop a plate it is a much bigger deal. I don't like that possibility, so I'd rather deal with fewer plates at a time. See, if I could just have 4 plates today, then 4 plates tomorrow, I think I'd be OK (I'm probably wrong about that as well, but I digress...).

But I don't just have 4 plates today and 4 plates tomorrow. I have 13 plates all at one time. I can do my best to figure out which plates to help on any given day, but my reality is one of constantly being called upon to run from plate to plate keeping them all spinning.

Because of the nature of my work I know each patient will die, and on average this happens just about every 5 days. So every 5 days or so a plate is removed from my responsibilities, but that is hard on me because it usually happens just when I've grown fond of that particular plate and also just figured out how best to keep it spinning. And it also means that when I least expect it I will be told "Here you go -- another new plate to go figure out."

I have to pause here and say I really hope I don't sound callous. Each and every patient I care for has tremendous worth as a human being and I treasure the moments they allow me in to share their lives with them as they finish their journey here. Each patient is very special to me and referring to them as "plates" may seem discompassionate or even cavalier and I'm sorry for that. But I'm trying to help you understand my human heart and frailty as a person and how stressful my job can be. Because the more you understand how stressful my job can be, within the context of the spinning plates analogy, the more sense it will make to you when I go on now and tell you my epiphany.

There I was running along in the pre-dawn wondering what to do with the stress I feel from spinning plates, and in my mind's eye the imagery shifted, and turned all inside-out and bass-ackwards.

It went from this:
to this:
And suddenly I felt peaceful about it all. See, instead of me being the guy who is running from plate to plate trying to keep them all spinning...what if in reality I am. Just. One. Plate?

What if all I need to worry about it is keeping myself spinning by staying centered on that stick?

And that would imply each of my patients has a measure of responsibility for their own spinning. Yes, I have an important role to play, but really it is their journey, not mine.

It turns out I'm stressed because I take on a responsibility that is not mine to take!

Wow.

And then as I was reeling from that "A-ha!" moment, the image shifted a bit again...to this:
And it was another "A-Ha!" moment. See, the idea of keeping myself centered is good but horribly incomplete because,

the reality is
plates don't actually
have the ability
to spin themselves.

I don't have the capacity to keep myself centered. If I am the plate, then any "responsibility" I take -- any wiggling motion I do make to try and "keep myself centered" usually just makes things worse and the best thing to do is relax and choose to trust The One whose hand is down there keeping me spinning.

That removes a ton stress, and I can just be me and help people and not sweat the other stuff. And that is good for me, but it is also good for my patients, and my coworkers and my wife, and everybody! =O)

A guy from the 1st century called Paul understood this pretty well and wrote some stuff about it, if you want to read it here. I've read his comments before and thought I understood them, but today I got a personalized example and word-picture. Pretty cool huh?

~ Keith

Running Into Myself

John "The Penguin" Bingham describes allowing running to change him into the person he wants to be, one step at a time. He calls this "running into myself".

I have seen this in my own life over the last 16 months since I started running in June 2008. My running shoes are now somewhat sacred to me, and I wear them only for running -- nothing else. When I lace them on, and head out the door, each kick-off is a step behind me and each new foot-plant is a new me, becoming. I've lost over 50 lbs, and my resting heart rate has gone from the high 70s to the mid- to high-40s. I just feel better. But more than that I feel more...

...myself.

I have to acknowledge that a part of it is the weight loss. When I look at my picture from 7th grade, I see a normal-weight kid who is happy and healthy and looking forward to life ahead. My 8th grade school picture is a photo of a pudgy kid*. I've spent most of my life looking into the mirror at the man who grew up from that pudgy, patently nonathletic, insecure kid from 8th grade. Now when I look into the mirror I see the man who grew up from the 7th grade kid.

Another nod to The Penguin: I'm an "adult onset athlete" and it feels good to be healthy. A friend (who will remain un-named -- but I've known him since 7th grade and looked up to him as an athletic person) recently said something like "I hope when I'm your age I'm that healthy. Wait...I am your age!"

That felt good, but wasn't as meaningful as it would have been 2 years ago. The 8th-grade pudgy kid in me would have given his left arm to hear someone say that. The 7th-grader in me today, though -- not so insecure -- laughed and acknowledged it, but moved on...and THAT felt good. Does that make sense?

So running has given me the benefit of becoming more the person I want to be. But insecurities and faults and flaws still live deep in me. Running is only one way to change me. There are others. Some of these can be pretty scary, but becoming a runner has given me the confidence to face new challenges more hopefully.

One other way to become more myself is to spend time alone in a small space -- where every time I turn around I (quite literally) keep "running into" my "self".

It was for this express purpose I recently went to a place in the Silver Falls area called CRC. I stayed in a tiny A-frame building called the "Prayer Hut".I took my bible and my journal and a couple books that have been helpful recently in digging into the depths of my self -- maybe that sounds narcissistic, but here's a story:

When I was a kid sometimes my dad would drive me places. I'd turn on the radio and he would turn it off. I'd turn it back on and he'd turn it back off. This would repeat a few times and finally he'd tell me to leave it off and then say something like:

"What's the matter?
Are you afraid of your own thoughts?"

And, well...I guess yeah I was, and still am sometimes. I look in the mirror and while the body is that of the grown-up 7th-grader still sometimes in the corner of my eye I see the lost-ness of the 8th-grader peering through and I wonder what it is like to be whole. Mark twain once said

"The worst kind of loneliness is not to be comfortable with yourself"

So once in awhile I think it is important for me to turn off my cell phone, leave my laptop at home, and just get away from it all to be alone And. Just.

Be

With my self.

So recently I spent 3-4 days reading and writing in my journal and praying and really connecting with God on a deep deep level.

I sensed
The Maker of the Universe
look at me and smile
in simple unbridled
filial
and fraternal
and friendly
affection
and a sense of
life-purpose
and positive destiny

And you know what I re-learned? Far more than any person's complimentary remark, that love of God burning deep in my heart -- this is what makes my day.

On a bad day this is what lets me know everything will be OK. And this is what, on a good day, makes everything seem brighter and clearer and more alive.

Now I'm home again and re-plugged in. Life and work and community all go on and challenges and stresses have a way of rebuilding themselves. I can't live as a hermit, and so I run. When I run, I sometimes catch a glimpse of that love in my heart.

Some days running is just habit. Other days it is an exercise in self-denial. But on other days, it's like Eric Liddell says in Chariots of Fire: "When I run I sense God's pleasure".

To celebrate one year of running, in June 2008 I ran a half-marathon. It was preceded by 14 weeks of training, which was brutal but fulfilling -- and made the race itself less brutal and more fulfilling -- exhilarating, even. My goal is to run the Portland Marathon in October 2010. After that maybe someday I'll run a longer distance. It is symbolic of my race through life. Life is not a sprint. Things, like becoming myself, take time -- likely, the whole rest of my life.

So I run. As a Nike ad puts it, I run not because I am in a hurry, or because someone is chasing me.

I run just because.

I'm running a half-marathon in mid-January and my 14 weeks of training begins this Monday. I can't wait to get out on the roads at 5:30am, before the sunrise. Just God, and me, and my shoes hitting the pavement;

pickin' 'em up & puttin' 'em down.

Running into myself.~ Keith

* Sometimes I wonder "What happened to me between 7th and 8th grade?" I have some answers on that one, but that's another story, and really just for me and my journal. But here is a song that struck me today, and the overall message is right in line with how I feel inside when I wonder that wonder, and also right in line with why I run:

The Love That you Give
by Jeff Searles

These days I find myself
Wanting something that I lost
A long long time ago
Ghost of a memory that haunts me
The way that it was
A long long time ago

The Love that You give
Is the Love that I need
The Love that You give
Is the Love that I need

Lately I feel so empty
Trying so hard to fill up
Something inside of me
But I always miss the mark
And end up breaking apart
Something inside of me

And the Love that You give
Is the Love that I need
The Love that You give
Is the Love that I need
The Love that You give
Is the Love that I need

Dedications

That's me. I'm the blurry guy in the orange shirt and bright-yellow hat in the left-edge of the picture. I'm finishing my final kick in my first ever 5k race.

I've been running for about a year now, and tomorrow I'm running my first ever half-marathon. 13.1 miles. They say the 13 miles are easy -- it's the 0.1 that's the killer. I started running partly to get in shape, partly as an exercise in self-denial, but mainly I did it for me. I've done so many things for other people -- and I'm not talking altruism, I'm talking people-pleasing for wrong reasons: trying to earn the approval of others. But running? I started that for *me* -- as a way to love and take care of myself.

Following tradition, at tomorrow's race I'm dedicating my miles:

Mile 0 --> 1: Me for getting there in the first place
Mile 1 --> 2: My wife Cathy for supporting me
Mile 2 --> 3: My friend Tom Bartel for inspiring me
Mile 3 --> 4: My Dad
Mile 4 --> 5: My Mom
Mile 5 --> 6: My sister Bobbi
Mile 6 --> 7: My sister JoAnn
Mile 7 --> 8: My sister Marilyn
Mile 8 --> 9: My sister Leslie
Mile 9 --> 10: Me for getting there!
Mile 10 --> 11: My friend Tom for inspiring me!!
Mile 11 --> 12: Cathy for supporting me!!!
Mile 12 --> 13: Me for getting there!!!!
and that last little bit from 13 --> 13.1: My final kick is for God who has created me and is giving me the ability to continue "running into myself"!

~ Keith

Am I Acceptable to God?

I found this excellent post over on Inward/Outward. It re-centered me again to what is important. I think part of what I like most about it is that there are no "do it this way instead" prescriptions -- it is more stream of consciousness.

~ Keith

Effortlessly

Sister Hazel is one of my favorite bands. Their album Chasing Daylight is classic. And this song is just about my favorite of all right now. It is where I'm at in life and loving it.

Effortlessly

I won't be so hard on me today
I start to take myself so seriously
Shouldn't be so hard just to be effortlessly
It shouldn't be so hard to keep it together
It shouldn't be so hard to say the right things to you
It shouldn't be so hard just to be effortlessly

Weightless worries fall away
Wasted pools of energy
I want to know I want to breathe

Effortlessly - just be
I want to be effortlessly
I want to be

It shouldn't be so hard to be inspired
It shouldn't be so hard just to write this song
It shouldn't be so hard to be wrong or to agree
It shouldn't be so hard to change the world
It shouldn't be so hard just to change your mind
It shouldn't be so hard just to be effortlessly

Weightless worries fall away
Wasted pools of energy
I want to know I want to breathe

Effortlessly - just be
I want to be effortlessly
I want to be

I won't be so hard on me today
I start to take myself so seriously
Shouldn't be so hard just to be effortlessly

Effortlessly
I want to know
I want to breathe
I want to simplify my needs
I want to live inside this moment
And just be effortlessly
Just be
I wanna be effortlessly
I want to be

~ Keith

Say Yes

Hat tip to Jen Lemen

~ Keith

Jesus Coaches Football

I don't usually follow sports at all. I watch the SuperBowl for the commercials, and the chips & dip.

But Brant posted this article and I read it. And I want you to read it.



~ Keith

How Will They Know We Are His Disciples?

I'm sitting on the couch watching the 2008 Presidential Election Coverage on PBS. Jim Lehrer just announced that California & Florida have just been "called" and it appears Barack Obama will be the 44th President of the United States.

But I'm here to tell you why, in a very real way, it doesn't matter who won.

I've never thought of myself as "centrist" per se, but I find myself in the unique position where about 1/2 the people I know and care about have been supporting John McCain. The other half have been supporting Barack Obama. That is no big deal to me. What floors me is this: the McCain supporters have been saying really mean-spirited things about those who support Obama. The Obama supporters have been saying arrogantly smug and hurtful things to and about those who support McCain.

It has been the most divisive time I've seen
especially amongst people who say
they are followers of Jesus,
and this saddens me.

As we move forward in one country on one planet, here are some thoughts on why it does not matter who won: we are all still called to (a) support the government, the authority under which God has placed us, and (b) defer to one another in love, promoting unity instead of division. For more on that, I refer you to Paul of Tarsus' letter to the followers of Jesus living in Rome. If you read chapters 13-15, the message is clear: our call is to love one another and support one another and find places of unity instead of spouting vitriol.

Are you someone who had been supporting Obama? Rejoice in his victory, yes. But mourn with those who mourn and show respect and love for your brothers and sisters who supported McCain. Please don't say "I told you so" or anything like it and hurt those whom Jesus loves.

Are you someone who had been supporting McCain? Mourn his defeat, yes. But rejoice with those who rejoice and show respect and love for your brothers and sisters who supported Obama. Please don't grow bitter or say malignant things about those whom Jesus loves.

In his concession speech in Arizona, John McCain said of President-Elect Obama: "I pledge my part to do everything in my power to aid him. I urge all Americans who supported me...to find ways to come together...whatever our differences."

The world is watching and it would be a tremendous shame if we as followers of Jesus living in America allowed the current divisiveness to get any worse. Rather, wouldn't it be wonderful to see unity and love for one another reigning in our hearts. After all, Jesus Himself said

"They'll know you are my followers by this:
when you love one another."

Peace,

~ Keith

What Does "Pro-Life" Really Mean?

What does the term "Pro-Life" mean to you?

For a long time now, there seem to have been only two camps: "Pro-Life" and "Pro-Choice" (or, depending on which camp you're in, those translate to "Right-Wing Religious Wacko" or "Baby Killer"). I think, though, that being "Pro-Life" is a much more far-reaching term...or should be!

Some years ago I decided to leave the world of Two-Party Politics. I was tired of the dichotomies I see in each party on this issue of valuing life. The Republican Party says "Abortion is murder" but out the other side of the elephant's mouth comes the phrase "Capital Punishment is OK!". On the other hand, the Democratic Party says "We have to defend a woman's right to choose!" but out the other side of the donkey's mouth comes the statement "Capital Punishment is murder!"

Today I give a respectful hat tip to one of my heroes, Rose for this (pdf) link to a wonderful synopsis of what "Pro-Life" really means. I encourage you to go read that link, then come back here and read the poem I was inspired to write this morning. I also wonder what you think of it all? What does "pro life" mean to you?

Seed splits open;
life sprouts from within;
mystery becomes mystery.

We are,
all of us,
powerful beyond measure;
able to achieve so much
on behalf of
those who are voiceless
No matter what age they are,
no matter what they've done,
no matter what:
we all matter.

because

We are,
all of us,
valuable beyond measure;
unique and irreplaceable.
No matter what age we are,
no matter what we've done,
no matter what:
we all matter.

Seed falls to the ground;
death becomes life;
from mystery to mystery.

~ Keith

Autumn at The Orchard

Autumn is here with its crisp cool mornings and early twilight.

I think of Autumn as a season of nesting and readying for hibernation; of pruning back and storing up. In order to store, one must harvest. Autumn is about bringing in the fruits of the year's labors, to sustain one's family through the winter. Autumn is for gently removing bulbs from the ground and placing them in warm safe pots so they can be replanted and bloom again next spring. Outwardly, autumn seems a dormant time. Inwardly, preparation work teems at the cellular level.

Recently we received our official release paperwork, affiliating The Orchard with the AVC. We'll be applying for our non-profit status in Oregon, and Federal 501(c)(3) status, speaking with potential board members, figuring out by-laws, State & Federal regulations, trademark agreements and liability insurance.

All of this is necessary work, but it is also secondary -- the deep, cellular work of formation is continuing right on schedule. We're not driven onward by goals and agendas and two-year plans. We're drawn forward gently by the Voice of The Master Who speaks to us of purpose and potential; of hearth and home.

Autumn is here with its golden-leaved changes, layered-warmth walkings, and hope-filled ponderings.

~ Keith

The Discipline of Self-Denial

I've blogged a few times re: my fitness level. Usually I do this after overeating and feeling depressed, or just before I start some new diet or exercise program. Then I feel bad when I don't follow through.

This time I waited until I was done!

For the past 10 weeks, I have been following an interval training program I found online:It has been a very challenging time, but this morning I finished their introductory program:As a graduation present I am going out tonight and buying new running shoes!

The cool thing is, while I have lost weight and do feel better, my motivation was not to lose weight or feel better -- those were really just byproducts.

So why am I doing this? I am doing this because I love Cathy and I want to take care of myself for her sake.

It is also, therefore, an excellent exercise in self-denial and discipline. You see, I don't really like running. I would much rather stay in bed and sleep. But in denying my own desires, and instead intentionally doing something for someone else, I am putting myself in touch with the attitude Jesus has. Maybe my self-denial in this area will help me put others first in my neighborhood, or my workplace, or in other areas of my life as well. That is my hope.

And in looking back at the last 10 weeks, I see I have reached a new level of discipline. When I was in the Navy (25 years ago!), "Boot Camp" was 8 weeks long, and it was the hardest physical activity I'd ever done. The endurance test at the end of the 8th week was running 1.5 miles in 15 minutes or less.

As of today, I have been exercising aerobically for 30+ minutes, first thing in the morning, three times per week, for 10 weeks straight! In fact, for the past 3 weeks, I have run a full 5k every Monday, Wednesday and Friday!

Aside from feeling good physically, I feel good emotionally -- about the ability I apparently do have to become more disciplined. I honestly didn't think I had it in me, and have surprised myself. What has kept me going is my love for Cathy and as I set out on my warm-up walk each time, I reflect on the self-denial aspect and ask God to strengthen me to be more like Jesus. If the past 10 weeks are any indicator, He does answer prayer and He does what He says.

Now -- do you think I am jinxing myself if I tell you that on Monday I plan on going to the next level?~ Keith

Vulnerability Trumps Insecurity

Some time ago, I had reviewed my bogging practices and noticed I had been way too revealing (of my and my wife's private life) in a public setting. I think blogs are a good way to share a bit of one's private life -- but I also think there is a limit. Some stuff just goes in my journal -- other stuff can go on a blog. There is sometimes a fine line between which goes where. This line is determined by each individual blogger. I contemplated my own fine lines in No More Blogging In My Underwear.

This morning I read the following in Celtic Daily Prayer:

It is because of the refusal to be vulnerable that, far too often, instead of enjoying friendship and intimacy with those around us, we find ourselves fencing with each other, using our talents, achievements, and strengths as weapons. To be vulnerable in the true sense does not mean that someone must become a doormat, a weakling, devoid of all pride, going out of his way to let others know all of his faults and weaknesses. Nor is vulnerability to be confused with the idea of 'letting-it-all-hang-out', or any other form of psychological strip-tease. To be vulnerable is to be strong enough to be able to present ourselves without false props, without an artificial display of our credentials. In brief, to be vulnerable is to be strong enough to be honest and tender. Like Jesus, the person who is vulnerable is a person who cares enough to let himself be weak, precisely because he does care.
~ Ronald Rolheiser, The Restless Heart

This was refreshing for me to read and reflect upon.

In the past, I am sad to say, my vulnerability was tied to my insecurity and desire to be liked. I thought perhaps if I was transparent enough people would be impressed by my vulnerability and therefore respect me as a very spiritual person. I wore my vulnerability like a badge of honor for others to see -- in a weirldy ironic (and oxymoronic?) borrowing from Rolheiser's imagery, it was as if I used my ability to be transparent as a weapon for fencing.

In Rolheiser's comment I see a new and better way. Since the time of my previous post mentioned above, I like to think I have begun to emulate this; that I care enough about the person with whom I am sharing that I will actually share the real me. But not in an attempt to prove anything or win any awards. It is not about me being liked by them: it is not about me. It is about the other person being cared about enough by me that I am able to, for their sake, not hide myself.
~ Keith

Homelessness and Being Like jesus

When I grow up I want to be like my friend Jon Reid, because he is like Jesus -- specifically the way he loves the people most of us wouldn't even want to get close to. In his blog he recently posted two articles about his interactions with homeless people. Homeless Adventure #1 and Homeless Adventure #2.

~ Keith

So I Stay Near the Door

I stay near the door.
I neither go too far in, nor stay too far out,
The door is the most important door in the world—
It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There’s no use my going way inside, and staying there,
When so many are still outside, and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where a door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men.
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it . . .
So I stay near the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door—the door to God.
The most important thing any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands,
And put it on the latch—the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man’s own touch.
Men die outside that door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter—
Die for want of what is within their grasp.
They live, on the other side of it—
live because they have found it.
Nothing else matters compared to helping them find it,
And open it, and walk in, and find Him . . .
So I stay near the door.

Go in, great saints, go all the way in—
Go way down into the cavernous cellars,
And way up into the spacious attics—
In a vast, roomy house, this house where God is.
Go into the deepest of hidden casements,
Of withdrawal, of silence, of sainthood.
Some must inhabit those inner rooms,
And know the depths and heights of God,
And call outside to the rest of us how wonderful it is.
Sometimes I take a deeper look in,
Sometimes venture a little farther;
But my place seems closer to the opening . . .
So I stay near the door.

The people too far in do not see how near these are
To leaving—preoccupied with the wonder of it all.
Somebody must watch for those who have entered the door,
But would like to run away. So for them, too,
I stay near the door.

I admire the people who go way in.
But I wish they would not forget how it was
Before they got in. Then they would be able to help
The people who have not even found the door,
Or the people who want to run away again from God.
You can go in too deeply, and stay in too long,
And forget the people outside the door.
As for me, I shall take my old accustomed place,
Near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there,
But not so far from men as not to hear them,
And remember they are there too.
Where? Outside the door—
Thousands of them, millions of them.
But—more important for me—
One of them, two of them, ten of them,
Whose hands I am intended to put on the latch,
So I shall stay by the door and wait
For those who seek it.
‘I had rather be a door-keeper . . .’
So I stay near the door.

~ Samuel Moor Shoemaker

~ Keith

Why I Might Say I'm Not A Christian

There are people living on the island of Mindanao in The Philippines who are followers of Jesus, and they hold worship services in a mosque. They don't call themselves Christians. They instead call themselves "Muslim followers of Issah" because if they identified themselves with the term "Christian" they would be persecuted or killed. They are not afraid of this: they are not ashamed of Christ; they are ashamed of His followers who have ruined His reputation.

In America there are people who follow Jesus, but they don't call themselves Christians. They are also ashamed of those who ruin Christ's reputation and so they instead call themselves "Followers of Christ" because if they identified themselves with the term "Christian", they might not be persecuted or killed, it could be worse -- they might get ignored.

Jesus' followers are called to (among other things) act as change-agents, offering a new life and hope to those who are trapped and weary. Problem is, in American culture the word "Christian" has become loaded with so many negative stereotypes. Its literal meaning is "Christ-like" or "Little Christ" but so many people have come to see "Christian" as synonymous with (at best) namby-pamby, goodie-two-shoes, irrelevant prudes or (at worst) hate-filled holier-than-thou hypocrites.

I heard an old song this morning that re-captivated my heart for what it means to follow Jesus:

Multiply Your Love
by Andy Park

Multiply Your love through us
To the lost and the least
Let us be Your healing hands
Your instruments of peace

May our single purpose be
To imitate Your life
Through our simple words and deeds
Let love be multiplied

Multiply Your love through me
To someone in need
Help me Lord to freely give
This grace that I've received

Let my single purpose be
To imitate Your life
Through my simple words and deeds
Let love be multiplied

Let us see Your kingdom come
To the poor and broken ones
Let us see a mighty flood
Of justice and mercy, O Jesus
Let love be multiplied
Let love be multiplied

Multiply Your church through us
To the ends of the Earth
Where there's only barrenness
Let us see new birth

Use us as Your laborers
Working side by side
Let us see Your harvest come
Let love be multiplied

Then this afternoon I stumbled across some videos. The first 6 are parodies of the Mac vs PC commercials. As a person who uses both Macs and PCs but prefers Macs, I have to confess I see myself in both halves of these commercials -- and sadly I see myself in both halves of the below videos as well. The last video is not a parody of the commercial. It is somewhat similar, but more hard-hitting and direct, like quickly tearing off a band-aid (or getting sucker punched in the gut).

They are all funny because they hit so close to home. They are also poignant for the same reason. (ye be forewarned)















~ Keith

Chased by Promises

Eighteen hours ago I was driving home from a Vineyard Pastor's Retreat. It was raining really hard, but up ahead there was a break in the clouds. So I was driving in pouring rain, but looking at blue skies. In my rearview mirror I noticed something cool - a rainbow was there. Right. THERE! Like, the picture above, only all I could see was rainbow out my back window. And it was travelling with me -- chasing me. I don't know how long it was there before I noticed it.

The bible says the rainbow is a promise that God won't wipe us out in another flood (which was comforting, considering the amount of rain I was driving in!).

At the retreat, God really met me and reminded me of some promises He's made to me over the years -- promises I think I'd largely forgotten but, like the rainbow, they've been chasing me down all along.

As I type this I've had only 1 hour of sleep. I was on-call from midnight to 8 am and was out caring for families whose loved ones were dying. I saw three patients: one who did not die, one who died while I was there in their home with them and their family, and one who died before I arrived. I think that completeness of possibilities is poetic somehow.

On very little sleep, and on foggy roads, I was kept safe -- I was not wiped out by a flood or anything else. And now I'm going to sleep.

As I head to dreamland, the sun is out. I can't see the rainbow anymore but I will rest well, knowing I am still

chased by promises

~ Keith