Pause, Patience, and Jesus’ Way

What opens us more deeply to growth and faithfulness in Christ? What seems to hinder our formation as persons and communities in Christ? 

I have been pondering Jesus’ way in light of these two questions lately, in preparation for our upcoming VP3 Gathering in Kelowna, October 5-7. If these questions are currently important to you, consider making your way to beautiful British Columbia. Join us and our conversation.  

The element of Jesus’ slow and patient way with others has resurfaced in my mind in the past few weeks. Not by any means new thoughts, but perhaps something of my own pace, driven by my current occupations and preoccupations, has prompted a pause. Slow down. 

Big picture, our cultural preoccupation with speed, efficiency, and control—“Do everything faster!”—leads me to notice Jesus’ unhurried way with others. Our constant search for shortcuts and “getting the biggest bang for our buck” does not condition Jesus as he moves through the world. This slow, patient mentoring unfolds most clearly in the way Jesus treats his disciples.  Read More

The Incognito God

“We may ignore, but we can nowhere evade the presence of God. The world is crowded with Him. He walks everywhere incognito.”1
—C.S. Lewis

 

Let’s think about that: some days or even weeks, I feel I have successfully evaded the presence of God—not by design or intention; instead, it seems I walked different streets or sang different songs, or simply didn’t see or hear or feel his presence.  You have felt that too; I know it. God incognito. What now?

 

I understand: it sounds like I blame you (me) for missing the presence of God. Instead, let’s hear the invitation in some words below—from scripture and from wise writers and friends.  They tell me that God desires relationship with us when we seek him, not just answers to all our questions. They invite us to align our expectations—to accept that, for now, we see only partially. To become detectives of divinity. To move at the pace of being known. And to listen to our own stories for evidence of God’s presence. Read More

I Lift Up My Eyes: Psalm 121

 

I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where will my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.

Psalm 121:1-2

What are you looking at?

It is an ordinary question—one you ask when a friend suddenly pauses, their attention caught by something you cannot yet see, or when a passenger turns to look back along the highway. We ask, “What are you looking at?” Common, yes, but it may be one of the important spiritual questions with which to begin a day: What will claim my attention in the hours ahead? It is a question to be asked by all of us.

 

For ministry leaders, the question carries particular urgency. Our eyes are trained to notice what needs attention: the unfinished sermon, the struggling congregation, the conflict that will not resolve, the call still unreturned, the budget, the building, the meeting, the grief beneath someone’s composed face. Much of ministry is the holy work of looking closely at what stands before us. But over time, faithful attention can harden into the weary habit of staring only at what is wrong. For the rest of us, we know the busyness that distracts during a typical day of work, groceries, the gas station, bill paying, and dinner preparation.

 

Attention is never merely optical. What holds our gaze eventually lays claim to our imagination, emotions, dreams, and hope. Read More

A Word to the Wise: You Are Not Finished

Sometimes At the Table is meant to inspire. It is always meant to invite us more deeply into Scripture and into conversations that matter. But every so often, we also need to be challenged—called to account. Today’s “word to the wise” is one of those moments.

Rich, a mentor of mine when I moved from parish ministry to campus ministry, taught me this lesson well. Only a year or two older than I, he retired before I did—but he did so with an attitude. He helped me reimagine this stage of life not as retirement, but as re-deployment.

At the time of my own re-deployment, I assumed I’d be asked to serve on boards or teach classes on campus—or something like that. Truth be told, I didn’t know what. But one of the best questions a mentor can ask is short and piercing: “What’s next?” It sparks anticipation, stirs curiosity, and invites us to wonder about the season ahead.

In my case, the message was clear: I wasn’t finished. In the Kingdom of God, retirement is never the end of our calling.  Read More