Spiritual Formation Catalyst
Working to help people respond to the Spirit's call in the midst
of their everyday lives so that they may experience what Jesus describes as,
"life to the full."
Difficult seasons, or desert seasons, of life, can leave us feeling worried, fearful, or anxious.
All too often those feelings begin to shape how we think, behave, and view the world. Moving in such a way makes it difficult to live filled with joy and hope.
How can we honor the difficult realities of desert seasons yet move in such a way that provides us hope for what is yet to come?
The past few months have not been easy.
I have come to think of them as a desert season. While traveling through a desert is often difficult, deserts can also be places of great opportunity and promise.
In thinking of these desert seasons, I have been drawn to the story of the nation of Israel as God led them out of captivity in Egypt, toward the Promised Land. Their desert season was filled with lessons that prepared them to experience the best God had for them. I believe the same is true for us.
For the next few weeks, I am going to be speaking on how we can best travel desert seasons. We are going to focus on what we can learn about God, ourselves, and others that will help us navigate the world in a more peaceful and redeeming way.
Dan
For ways in which you can connect with a wider community as we travel this desert season check out First Baptist Kennett Square – Desert Series
To share a link to this message: bit.ly/Desert-Journeys
A few days ago I came across this prayer.
It captures a lot of where my heart and mind have been these past few months.
As I look at the world it is very clear that things are shifting, things are changing. In times of change, or transition there are two very normal reactions.
People often rush to return to what was. Something familiar can be comfortable, make us feel safe, even though it might not be the best place for us. Transition and change are unnerving and many people rush to return to what was so they can feel comfortable and safe.
On the other extreme, it is not unusual for people to rush through a season of transition hoping to find a new place of stability and safety. Again, transition and change are unnerving. Moving quickly towards a new normal can make us feel secure.
The struggle with both of those responses is that they rob us of experiencing significant growth. Most often it is during seasons of transition and change that we learn about ourselves, our world, and God’s invitation for us.
I have returned to this prayer a number of times since I first found it. It brings me a sense of peace and calm, even when the circumstances around me are anything but calm. May we grow to trust that God is working in us as we pass through “some stages of instability.”
Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.
And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.
—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ
excerpted from Hearts on Fire
You can find the link to the prayer here: https://www.
Each Tuesday evening at 6:30 I host a Zoom reflection.
The goal is to create a space where people can be still and reflect on how the Spirit is moving in their lives.
Each evening we open with a time of quiet. Following the quiet, I lead a short reflection or meditation that comes from some of my most recent readings or thinking.
There is an opportunity for people to respond to the reflection. You can share as little, or as much as you want. What did you hear? How did the reflection strike you? Did you sense an invitation to something from the words shared?
We then use some questions of Examen to think about how we are experiencing life. We focus on what it means to truly live grateful lives. We look to see where the Spirit is working and think of how we want to invite the Spirit to move in the coming days.
We close our time by sharing how we can be in prayer for one another. Again, people can share as little or as much as they feel led.
Our goal is for our time together to last no more than one hour.
Everyone is welcome to join us.
If you would like to receive the Zoom invitation please send an email to pastor@ksqfbc.com
A New QuestionThis morning I had a thought that had never occurred to me before.
It is probably more honest to say I experienced a Spirit prompted question that revealed something which had, up till now, remained hidden.
What happened to all the fish?
My morning devotional reading led me to Luke’s gospel, where Jesus is standing by the lake of Gennesaret teaching. The crowd pressed in to better hear what he had to say. Nearby there are some empty fishing boats. The men are cleaning their nets after a long night out fishing.
Jesus steps into one of the boats and asks Simon, the fisherman, to put out from shore just a little. Jesus continues to teach the crowd from the front of the boat. Once the teaching was over Jesus instructs Simon too,
put out in deep water, and let down the nets for a catch.
Simon protests. It has been a long, hard night of fishing with little to show for his efforts. Simon is recorded as saying,
Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything. But because you say so, I will let down the nets.
Simon and his team let down their nets. They catch such a large number of fish that their nets begin to break. Filled with excitement, they signal to other fishermen who rush out and start to fill their boats. Fill their boats to the point they begin to sink.
Simon and all his fellow fishermen were amazed at the large catch of fish. Simon Peter falls at the feet of Jesus.
What follows is fantastic. Simon, along with his partners James and John, the sons of Zebedee, drop everything and follow Jesus. They become the first disciples to follow Jesus. Luke 5:11 says,
they pulled their boats up on shore, left everything and followed him.
What happened to the two boatloads of fish?
That was my first thought this morning as I read this passage of scripture.
What happened to all the fish these men had just pulled from the water and piled into their boats?
Scripture says they left everything and followed Jesus.
In the past, I have focused on the fact that these men left careers, livelihoods, identities (as fishermen), families, communities and followed Jesus. I have been challenged to question how I would have responded to the invitation of Jesus to leave it all behind and follow him. This story has challenged me to think about how I am following Jesus today.
What am I willing to leave behind to follow Jesus?
This morning my focus was on all those fish. What happened to those fish? [Read more…]
It is not broken, that would be nice. Once broken, you can begin the process of mending, of healing.
No, my heart is breaking.
As I think about all the hurt, pain, anger, mourning, hatred, and fear that is spilling out into our world, my heart is breaking.
I want to believe we are better than this. The sad truth is we are not.
Events of the past few weeks have served to reveal the pain and hurt so many within our world are carrying. The deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbery are but the most recent in a long history of violence done to non-white people within our country.
On my bookshelves, I have a copy of “Without Sanctuary, Lynching Photography in America.” It is a sad and stomach-turning record of lynchings that took place in our country’s not too distant past. The vast majority perpetrated upon men and women of African-American heritage.
The most frightening piece about the images contained within the pages is not the actual hangings. What scares and saddens me more is the way people are clamoring to have their pictures taken with the deceased. Dressed in their Sunday best people pose beside and in front of a corpse hanging from tree or lamppost.
My heart is breaking.
I can hear the protests. Pastor, those lynchings you speak of took place years ago. It is time to move on. Stop looking at that book and forget what is past. Time to forgive, forget, heal, and move on.
Here is my problem. Many of the attitudes, beliefs, thoughts, and behaviors that allowed the pictures which fill this book still exist today. We may have become more nuanced in the way we practice much of our racism today. The sad fact is it still exists. Sadder still is the truth that I can allow attitudes, thoughts, and beliefs to take root in my own thinking that are far from the Kingdom of God.
Jokes told in small circles or via email. Knowing glances between family or co-workers as we speak of “those people.”
Separate and unequal schools that start children off behind those from more affluent neighborhoods. Once you start off behind, it is near impossible to catch up. No matter how hard you work, if you do not have the resources at your disposal to get ahead, it feels like an overwhelming struggle.
I could go on. Suffice to say our systems and structures are ripe with examples of how we pick winners and losers, many times based upon nothing other than the color of their skin.
Now and then, there are raw and disturbing moments where our racism loses its nuance. Events where people’s attitudes and beliefs result in actions the vast majority of us find utterly appalling. Our hearts break.
The truth is our hearts should be breaking all the time. We should be disturbed by the mere presence of such attitudes and ideas present within our world.
Privilege means I am free to move through life without having to think or worry about certain things.
Privilege is all of that and so much more. Privilege is moving through life unaware that I even have said privilege.
It was late in the afternoon. We were on our way home. The van was filled with people, and I was hurrying to get back so I could make my next appointment. As I rounded the corner, the car pulled out behind me, and lights came on.
I pulled over, prepared my documents, and rolled down the window. My interaction with the officer was cordial but not overly respectful. I was embarrassed, hurried, and felt put out. Once I received my warning, we were back on the road.
A few yards down the road, my African American friend said, “I could never have done what you just did.” Shocked, I asked what he was talking about. “You were rude. I could never be rude to a police officer like that.”
I protested. He insisted. A few miles down the road, it slowly began to sink into my thick skull. I have the privilege to be seen as rude or short with a police officer.
That is not something my friend would ever be able to risk. I may end up with a ticket. There is a long history of much worse consequences for men and women who look like him.
My heart is breaking.
My heart breaks that I move through this world so blind to my privilege, so blind to the struggle of other’s life experiences.
My heart breaks that I am so good at defending my rights while devaluing the reality of another.
For the past week or so, I have remained silent. I have thought about writing but opted to be still.
The problem seems so deep, so profound that I have struggled to see how anything I could say might change anything.
I felt frozen, paralyzed in the face of such overwhelming suffering, pain, heartache, and sin.
Here is the problem. People are left to interpret my silence for themselves.
For those who are the victims of racism within our world, my silence is yet another burden for them to carry. Another example of someone failing to acknowledge and understand the depth of their pain and suffering.
Those who perpetrate systemic racism interpret my silence as agreement with their behavior.
People who look to me for leadership find my silence as an excuse to remain silent themselves.
Silence becomes comfortable. It becomes easy. The longer one remains silent, it becomes a pattern and a way of living and moving.
My heart is breaking…breaking at the thought of my silence, causing pain.
There are no easy answers. Certainly, not comfortable ones.
While I can offer no clear map forward to a better place, two thoughts have come to my mind over the past few days. I share them with hopes that, in them, you may find some sense of wisdom and direction.
I have been drawn to the story of Jesus’ resurrection of Lazarus. Lazarus was a friend. Jesus knew the family well. Lazarus died when Jesus was out of town. As Jesus reached the family and saw the depth of their grieving scripture records, “Jesus wept” John 11:35.
What motivated Jesus’ tears?
Confronted with the tears of Lazarus’s sisters, Martha and Mary, Jesus was moved to tears. The pain, suffering, and grief that the sisters and other mourners gathered in support of the family displayed touched his heart to the point of tears.
In a word, compassion.
Jesus was also grieved. Grieved to tears by the suffering and pain caused by sin. In Romans 6:23, the Apostle Paul writes, “the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Jesus Christ our Lord.” Death was nothing new. Sin has consequences. Death was and is a reality of the fact that we live in a world where sin abounds. The consequences of sin brought Jesus to tears.
What if you and I learned to move more like Jesus? What if we could allow our hearts to be grieved by the evidence of sin in our world. What if we were moved to tears by our thoughts, actions, and behaviors that are far from the kingdom of God? What if rather than celebrating, or explaining away such things they grieved us?
How would our world be different if we moved with the compassion of Jesus? Faced with the reality of sin, we did not feel the need to defend ourselves or attack others. We were free to move compassionately amongst those experiencing pain, heartache, brokenness, and loss.
I think it is important to note that Jesus did more than simply feel compassion and express grief over the state of affairs. Jesus moved to bring about change. Jesus acted.
He instructed the stone be removed from in front of the Lazarus’s tomb. Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus come out!” (John 18:43) Scripture says that Lazarus came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, a cloth around his face. (John 18:44) Lazarus found new life!
Filled with compassion, grieved by the consequences of sin in the world Jesus acted to redeem, restore, transform what was into new life. You and I can do the same. We can stand before systems, structures, and individuals who perpetuate a culture of racism and speak new life into them. Grieved by current realities, moved by compassion we must act.
My heart longs for such things to be true.
Many years ago, I was sharing a struggle I was having with a friend of mine. He listened patiently and respectfully as I outlined the wrong that had been done to me. I spoke of what I felt justice demanded in this situation. When I was finished my presentation, I turned to him, expecting words of encouragement and agreement.
Instead, I heard, “Dan, what would it look like if you moved into this situation as a wounded lamb instead of like a roaring lion?” Having asked the question, he got up from our table. He was done. I was left trying to imagine living and moving in such a way.
Over the years I have often thought of his words.
What would it look like if I stopped moving like a roaring lion?
If I stopped demanding my rights, insisting on people hearing my point of view and agreeing with me.
What if I entered into a relationship as a wounded lamb, open to see, hear, experience the reality of others. What would happen if I was willing to sacrifice myself (as a wounded lamb) on behalf of others?
My prayer for myself, for all of us, is that we would spend some time grieving.
May we be filled with compassion.
May we act boldly. That we would move towards one another as wounded lambs rather than roaring lions.
My breaking heart longs for such things.
Holy Spirit may it be.
We cannot live very long within any community, marriage, family, religious community, or genuine friendship without becoming aware of our faults and narrowness. We either begin to grow up, or we leave.
Ronald Rolheiser OMI, The Polished Stone, February 8, 1993, https://ronrolheiser.com/the-polished-stone
While reading I quickly scribbled the quote onto a post-it-note.
The note has moved around my desk multiple times over the past few months. Each time I found the yellow piece of paper I was reminded to think about my relationships.
The longer I have spent with these words the truer they appear to be.
I believe they express a deep wisdom that can help shape who we are. Help us to grow healthy communities.
Thinking back on my life there have been a number of relationships that challenged me. Relationships that, in one way or another, revealed weaknesses in my personality or a general lack of maturity on my part.
My first response to such moments of revelation was to react with a passionate enthusiasm to defend myself.
I was quick to point out how I was correct. I could show you how I was above reproach. Other people, or circumstances were doing me wrong.
A common protest was that people simply did not understand me. The fact that they had concerns, or expressed any doubt about me simply showed they were unable to appreciate what I had to offer.
I was like fine art. If you did not get it…well you simply did not have the “gift” to appreciate beautiful artwork.
Raising such a defense moved any focus away from me and onto other people. It was always easy to find a few people who agreed with me, or simply remained silent as I protested. [Read more…]
Daniel has been a seeker his entire life, seeking a deeper relationship with Abba Father. He has served as pastor for American Baptist churches in New York, Massachusetts, and Pennsylvania. His passion is to "help people encounter God in the midst of their everyday lives." He writes with a transparency intended to allow others to see the struggles that lead to healing and life. Daniel currently serves as Spiritual Formation Catalyst for A Place in the Conversation.
Daniel's journey was disrupted when the doctor said, "You have stage IV colon cancer." Questions of "Why" and "If only" crowded his mind. Can one encounter God in the midst of a cancer journey? Join this seeker as he shares the pain and joys of this journey not of his choosing. Daniel's wife, Nancy, joins in sharing some of her thoughts, and feelings as she watches her husband fight his battle.