Last Sunday, we talked about the temptations of Jesus that seem to be the three primary ways that we are tempted. In these tumultuous times, I think it is important to examine our strong defaults to meet our deep, core needs outside of God.  And as we continue to journey towards being a people that follow and reflect the ways of Jesus, this is of utmost importance.

And here I think the work of Thomas Keating is very helpful here. Keating, a Trappist monk and co founder and architect of the Centering Prayer movement, articulates a rich understanding of the psychological experience of contemplative prayer and transformation. And he describes these three “energy centres” that also parallel the Enneagram. The Enneagram is an ancient tool of personality archetypes (such as Meyers-Briggs or the Disc). But what I love about the Enneagram is that is doesn’t put you in a box. Rather, it puts you on a path. The Enneagram is a wonderful tool that really helps you find a growth path for inner transformation, as it describes your immature states and inclinations toward sin as well as your path towards growth and ultimately towards Christ. 

Keating defines our three predominant needs: the need for power and control, the need for affection and esteem, and the need for security. Keating suggests that through frustrations of not having these needs met when we are young, these needs become the formative narrative, or hidden motivations in our search for happiness. Bubbling away behind our actions and conscious desires, directing us whether we realize it or not. If they are allowed to grow unchecked, they come to dominate our operating awareness. They are at the root of sin: they are what keep us from living into the deeper truth of who we are, as children of God.

So in the midst of wilderness, disruption and anxiety, how do we ground ourselves deeply in the love of God and hear God's voice of affirmation? How do we find the peace and shalom that Jesus offers rather than bowing down to our primal needs for self-gratification, security, power and control? How do we trust that God will meet every need. That God will sustain us. I hope that as you meditate this week on Jesus' invitation to you and practices that ground you in God's reality, that you will find peace. Solid rock underneath your feet.

by Jessica

There are days when you feel like you’re on top of the world. Other days when you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your sails. And still others when you feel lucky if you manage to crawl out of bed, let alone get dressed. So goes the human experience. And the more you come alive and let yourself love, create, hope and dream, the greater the potential for joy. And yet the harder the blows when the disappointments, losses and betrayals come. Thus the definition of risk. Exhilarating. True. Yet terrifying. Utterly terrifying.
 
Brené Brown talks about how vulnerability is the key to connection, connection being the thing that brings purpose and meaning -- in essence, why we all are here. And yet she also talks about how absolutely terrifying vulnerability can be. No one wants to feel shame. No one wants to feel exposed. No one wants to feel hurt. And yet it is vulnerability. Risk. Putting ourselves out there that is the key to living fully, finding meaning, and the connection we all are longing for.
 
I bring this up now because these are not normal times we are living in and I fear we may be shutting down. Daily, I am bombarded by news headlines and social media, stories of fear, injustice, corruption, and sheer stupidity. There seems to be a collective sense of despair. And the divisions between us are deep. For those politically different than me, I do not understand you. And it is clear you do not understand me. It is difficult to be so misinterpreted and misunderstood when I feel so passionately. And it is unfortunate because there are so many problems in our country that I believe could be solved if we worked together. Thus the despair grows.
 
So how do we have hope in a hopeless world? And how do we avoid the temptation to hole up in our bunker and bury our heads in the sand, resolving to play it safe and keep our guards up? While there seems to be a collective sense of despair, I feel there is also a collective brace. And yet…it is not the brace but rather the embrace that is needed. It is not apathy but courage that is called for. It is not despair but hope that must rise up.

Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and you work; you don't give up. - Anne Lamott
 
Hope. It is persistent. Resilient. Stubborn. Hope persists despite the tragedy, despite the deaths and the violence and the injustices. Hope has a way of surprising us when we least expect it, rising up in spite of all our efforts to push it down, awakening desires that our cynicism wrote off a long time ago. Hope, I believe, is the perfect antidote for these days of despair.
 
But in what or whom do we hope? For me, my hope is grounded in this idea of connection -- why we all are here. This connection to God. To love. To a God who is love. And to each other, all of us beloved children of God. For this is the greatest story of love and redemption that the world has ever known. You see, I believe that God is about the business of making everything new and that one day, in spite of what the headlines say, everything will be made right and we will live in a just world. Every divide and every wound will be healed. Heaven will join earth and there will be no more war, no more tears, no more sorrow, and no more pain. No more corruption and no more lies, no death, sickness or poverty, no racism, violence or abuse. And we will live together in peace, all of us brothers and sisters, black, brown, yellow, white, as children of God. And this is not just pie in the sky. We don’t have to wait for death to experience this heaven utopia. No, I believe that heaven is near. Though one day it will come in fullness (and today is obviously not that day), it is a future we can we can bring to earth now.
 
Every time we welcome the stranger and the refugee. Every time we extend kindness towards our enemy. Every time we make the choice to open ourselves to love and to vulnerability. Every time we share a meal with the hungry or provide shelter for those shivering in the cold. Every time we choose to serve instead of pushing our way to the front. Every time we stand up for the poor or champion the cause of the oppressed. Every time we give the gift of presence and take the time to listen. Every time we give honor and dignity to those the world looks down upon. Every time we create beauty that calls our hearts towards the divine.
 
As The Practicing Church, this is our dream - to join God in the renewal of all things by practices that ground us in the love of God.  As followers of Jesus, this is not a time for shrinking back or for burying our heads in the sand in despair. No, this is not a time for giving up. This is a time for courage. For showing up. For taking risks. For love and generosity. This is a time for hope. Great, big, stubborn hope.

There is so much hope in the human heart. - Albert Camus

by Jessica Ketola

Last Sunday, Rose led us in a study and discussion in Luke 3 around John the Baptist, and it was a surprisingly fitting passage for this week with all the turmoil and heartbreak of the refugee ban and the volatile divisive political and religious climate that we find ourselves in. And one of the questions she raised was, “If John the Baptist was walking the streets of our neighborhoods today, what would he say to us?”
 
This was challenging to think about. To examine my own life and to reflect on what God might be asking of me. The comforts of my life in stark contrast to those of the refugee.
 
This was also true in the time of John the Baptist in the midst of increasingly volatile politics and unrest under the Roman oppression. In a time where practices of extortion, corruption and injustice were rampant. His words were cutting, harsh and yet astonishingly curious as the crowds came out to the desert to see what all the ruckus was about. John minced no words. He called the religious folks out, comparing them to snakes, imploring them to change their lives, not their outward appearances of religiosity. He called their bluff, saying just because Abraham is your father does not mean that you are children of God. What counts is your life.
 
And then he expounded on this, saying that what truly mattered were the practices and fruit of their lives. Were they green and blossoming or dead?  He didn’t speak to overturning the corrupt government but instead called them first to personal repentance. The crowd's response was, “Then what are we supposed to do? He responded, “If you have two coats, give one away,” he said. “Do the same with your food.” To the corrupt tax men, he told them, “No more extortion—collect only what is required by law.” To the soldiers serving in an unjust system under Herod, he told them to act justly, “No shakedowns, no blackmail—and be content with your rations.” John called them into a baptism of repentance, a life-change, reserved then for non-Jewish people converting to the Jewish faith. Apparently, the people of God had lost their way to the point that they were now in need of conversion, repentance and a recommitment to the way of God. The invitation was far beyond the hypocrisy of a religious title but to a radical life change marked by acts of generosity and justice.
 
Reading this today, I am convicted and I am grieved. Much like in the time of John the Baptist, I believe that religious folks like us and the church at large have profoundly lost our way. The disconnect being this - we no longer look like Jesus. Our lives no longer set apart by acts of justice and sacrifice. No longer worthy of inquiry or curiosity by the world because of our love for one another and for the extravagant welcome of the stranger. Often it is just the opposite.
 
But I believe that there is a prophetic call to the church right now - to prepare the way for God to act. To repent. To make a life-change. To commit to a shared life steeped in grace, justice, generosity, hospitality, love and sacrifice. And I believe that there is a growing sense sweeping all across the land longing for change. We are tired of doing life this way. And we are outraged and hurting, fed up with injustice. We want to do something. To be a part of something bigger than ourselves. To care for the vulnerable, the poor and the marginalized. To use our voices to join those of the oppressed and to fight for justice.
 
As The Practicing Church, I believe that now is the time to act. To repent. To change. To sacrifice. To begin to live deeper into the ways of Jesus.

May our hearts be moved with compassion.

In light of the refugee ban crisis and racial divides in our communities, I believe we are to welcome the stranger and work towards justice in our neighborhoods. Here are some resources and upcoming events here locally and I urge you to get involved!

• Radical Hospitality & Extravagant Welcome: I have blogged on this the past couple of weeks, but how can we extend friendship and hospitality as a subversive act of the kingdom.
• Talking to Kids About Race | Einstein Middle School | Feb 6th @ 6:30p: Parent Education workshop with Shoreline School District’s Equity & Family Engagement Director Tanisha Felder.
• Turning Point Community Meal | February 9th at 5pm: Share a meal with neighbors and Turning Point families and children. Bring a potluck dish to share and experience friendship with many of different culture, religion and socio-economic status. To learn more, read blog. Turning Point | 1315 N 160th Street, Shoreline, WA 98133
• How To Help Syrian Refugees in Seattle | The Seattle Globalist
• Faith & Race | Quest Church| Feb 12th @ 1:30p | Register here to explore questions of race, ethnicity, and identity in terms of what it means for us as followers of Christ and as people of God.
• Kingdom Come | Vineyard Seattle Area Gathering | Feb 25th | Training 1:30-4:30 | Worship Gathering 6:30p: Pray for God to move in our churches and communities, that we would truly be a people that embody the love of God, showing the world what God is like.
• When God Grew Tired of Us | What Life is Like For a Refugee | Movie Night & Discussion with Rose Swetman: February 27th at 6:30p
• Equity & Inclusion Conference | UW Bothell | February 24th 9a - 3:30p: Register
• A Letter from Phil Strout, National Director of The Vineyard on Refugee Crisis

 
This week, let us examine our lives and hold this question together, “If John the Baptist was out walking our neighborhoods today, what would his invitation of repentance or life-change be?”

by Jessica Ketola