Author Archives: karenkeegan

Lessons from Mark, Part 1

Posted on by under Scripture

Journal 2018

Photo by Yevgen Buzuk on Pexels.com

Mark 4:35-41

The waves crash over the little boat, and the disciples shake Jesus awake. Their accusation intrigues me:

Don’t you care if we drown?

I hear the same cry from some of my clients: Don’t you care that I’m hurting?

Jesus was asleep, oblivious to the storm, so how could they accuse Him of not caring?  In His humanity He was exhausted and needed rest. It’s ludicrous when a client accuses me of not caring because I’m not available to process with her the moment she gets triggered. Of course I care, but there’s not much I can do for her in the moment except pray she’ll have the strength to keep rowing.

Fear drove the disciples’ words and deeds. What did they want Jesus to do when they woke Him up? Help row? Be prepared to swim if they sank? Perhaps they felt alone and wanted His comforting presence. The storm was bothering the ones who were afraid. It wasn’t bothering the One who was resting.

What if the disciples hadn’t woken Him up? Would they indeed have drowned? What if they’d stopped struggling, stopped rowing and gone to sleep? They weren’t really in any danger, for God still had work for each of them to do. At the right time, Jesus stilled the storm.

May I rest in you today, Lord, no matter what storm rages around me.

Mark 6:5

He was not able to do a miracle there [in Nazareth], except to lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them.

Why?

Mark says, “Because of their unbelief.”

Perhaps this verse is the source of the false teaching that if you’re sick, it’s your own fault because of your lack of faith—you just didn’t believe hard enough. The issue, however, is not about one’s self-effort but a disbelief in who the Healer is. If you don’t believe that Jesus is the Son of God, the Messiah, the creator of the universe, no amount of “faith that I will be healed” is good enough.

Faith is not quantifiable. How do you know when you have “enough faith”? Either you believe that Jesus is who He said He was, or you don’t. Faith is better demonstrated in, “If You will, You can make me whole.” The focus is not on me, but on Him.

Mark 6:56

After the incident with the woman who had an issue of blood, people would ask Jesus if they could touch the edge of His cloak, and all who touched it were healed. I suspect her story spread like wildfire—that she had the audacity to believe and act on it, but Jesus had called her out for it, so now they asked first.

Were there any who asked that got turned away by him? Did He ask them questions first and interview them? Did He simply ignore or tune out the ones who were suspect? Did He have the human capability of selective hearing and blocking out extraneous noise or visual cues? Did He take time with each person to connect with him or her, or did multiple people touch Him, and there were mass healings? Did touching people and ministering to them drain Him physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually? Was He more introvert or extrovert? (Even an extrovert requires downtime.)

We learn from other people’s successes. The bleeding woman had audacious faith. She was desperate, willing to do whatever it took to receive her healing. Her act of boldness, in turn, I believe, gave courage to others to try the same thing.

May I, Lord, have audacious faith, believing You are all powerful, all knowing, omnipresent. But I want to be polite enough to ask if You’re okay with my actions to find healing.

Come Sunday

Posted on by under God

Journal 2018

I recently watched Come Sunday, a movie based on true events where a Black preacher, who had a successful church ministry, experienced a crisis of faith. He had some pride (I suspect), a poor relationship with his wife, and was married to the church. He preached salvation and evangelism out of fear. One day, as he agonized over children being abused in Africa, he “heard God say” that all those people were going to heaven. His conclusion was that there was no hell, and he became a Unitarian. Half the church accused him of heresy. He indeed became a softer man, more tolerant of people, and he had a better relationship with his wife.

But, and there’s a huge BUT here. Is his theology correct? Whose voice did he hear? God’s? Satan’s? His own? Or was he stepping into denial?

Stepping into protection mode and out of pain can produce a false peace. I’ve watched my clients do it. I’ve done it myself. One day, when life’s circumstances left me feeling like I was suffocating inside a box, in my visual I stepped out of the box. That seemed like a reasonable solution, for it felt good to be able to breathe again. But my prayer partner called me on it. “Go back into the box and feel the discomfort,” she instructed. When I did, that’s when Jesus came into the visual, expanded my space and gave me His breath. I had to face my pain, not run from it. The result was permanent peace, whether I was inside or outside my box.

When a neighbor of mine, who used to lead worship at her church, got hurt by some Christians in a Bible study, she stepped away from the church forever. She couldn’t reconcile the God she thought she knew with the God of these intolerant Christians. She says she’s at peace now, but I suspect she just dissociated from her pain.

Now, is it possible that God gave this preacher truth about the suffering kids in Africa? I wasn’t there in his head. But I do know that when someone we’re praying with hears an obvious lie or contradiction to scripture, we test the voice using I John 4:1-2.

Breathe … Just Breathe

Posted on by under Inner Healing, Peace, Emotions

Journal 2018

For months my brain has been trapped in a hyperdrive carousel, spinning round and round, up and down, speeding then slowing. It’s been fun, but I’m ready to get off. I’m weary and sad and long to return to a place of peace. I need stillness, a sanctuary. If I move to a park bench, I’m afraid someone is going to approach me to engage in conversation or ask me to play frisbee with them.

Lord, I invite You into this picture.

Jesus hits the off switch, and everything stops. Dizzy and disoriented, I collapse, unable to move. When I finally recover, I toss onto that spinning mass my schedule, my to-do list, my shoulds and ought-tos, my needs and commitments. Like little kids, if they don’t hang on, they’ll fly off and get hurt. Not my fault, but while they want me to kiss their boo boos and fetch their band aids, all I want to do is be by myself, not entertaining a passel of kids. I want to be alone with Jesus, away from this noise, clutter, and movement, but there’s nowhere to go in this park.

Jesus says, “I’ll give you a cone of silence.” (Remember the show Get Smart?) I step inside of Jesus (see Acts 17:28), and He closes the door. Suddenly everything is still and quiet. I can still hear muffled sounds, but there’s plenty of room to stretch out. There are even books on a shelf within reach. When He moves, I move, but it’s fluid, not jerky. I don’t have to make decisions.

I hum Chris Tomlin’s song “Where you stay, I’ll stay. When you move, I’ll move.” Only I’m not following Him. I’m in Him. I don’t choose where we go. It just is. I can feel my whole body relaxing. I didn’t realize my protective guardian had been so in charge. In fact, now I see that guardian had been wearing all of his armor. Before I could step into Jesus’ heart room, he had to check everything at the door, clad in just a tunic. There’s no space for all that clunky metal here where it’s soft, pillowy, and safe.

Breathe. Just breathe. Relax. Curl up in a feather bed. Sleep.

AI-generated

God’s Intimacy and Immensity

Posted on by under God, Scripture

Journal 2018

As a child, I was taught the immensity of God. I was not taught the intimacy of God. As an adult, I experience the intimacy but sometimes forget the immensity—Someone who is so foreign and beyond my comprehension. Our minds are incapable of understanding billions of galaxies and a God who lives outside of time. Man is a miniscule speck of dust in the universe, yet God loved that speck, for He created it. We are part of His creativity. We are not equals. We are the recipients of His grace and mercy.

How then should we view God? I Timothy 6 describes Him as:

  • The blessed and only ruler
  • The King of Kings
  • The Lord of Lords
  • Who alone is immortal
  • Who lives in unapproachable light
  • Whom no one has seen or can see
  • To him be honor and might forever

How can He be all that Paul states, yet live within my heart? How can He dwell in unapproachable light when His very Spirit interacts with mine? We say we approach the throne of grace, yet Paul says God is not approachable. (When I go to heaven, will He be approachable then because I will be in a different state?)

God is both-and. I recognize that my finite mind cannot and never will understand the mysteries of God.

Photo by Alan Cabello on Pexels.com

Life’s Brevity

Posted on by under Emotions, Scripture

Journal 2018

Teach [me] to number [my] days that [I] may gain a heart of wisdom . . . May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon [me]. Establish the work of [my] hands for [me]—yes, establish the work of [my] hands. (Psalm 90:12, 17 NIV).

Visual: I’m fidgeting on a hard and uncomfortable seat, knees pulled up to my chest in front of a large, floor-to-ceiling curtain. Why am I not in the audience? What am I waiting for?

Suddenly the curtain lifts and the show begins. Apparently I’m one of the performers in a cabaret. I wait for my cue. I’m on in . . . 3-2-1. Perform, do the best I can, enjoy the process, and then I’m off the stage, panting from the exertion as I watch the show from the other side of the stage. It’s over—only a brief participation award in the grand experience of life on this earth. My part is done. I have the rest of eternity to analyze my performance.

That’s the big picture.

But for the moment I’m still on stage. I’m just a bit player, but every character is important to the plot. I need to remember my lines, do cartwheels in time with the music, sing with the chorus, and remain quiet when others are speaking. I’m under the Director’s watchful eye. Someone steps out of line and the production halts. I sit on the edge of the stage and wait. Apparently, we’re in a rehearsal. It’s not performance night. The Director is giving instructions, making changes, fixing footing and lighting, and I sit and wait. It’s a time of rest till we’re instructed to move again, and I’m okay with that. Dancing can be fun, but it’s hard work keeping in step with the whole group. I trust the Director. He sees the whole picture. He knows what He wants to accomplish.

Time sometimes appears to speed up and sometimes it appears to slow down. What makes the difference? The intensity of the emotion, or perhaps the degree of pain? I want to learn “a heart of wisdom” and have “hands that are established” in the dailiness of life as well as in the crisis moments. To the best of my ability, I want to care for my physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health. I fail, I make goals, I try again. I trust God to direct my steps. He knows what’s best.

Photo by Pavel Danilyuk on Pexels.com

Between Worlds

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2018

I’m in a weird place right now, caught between worlds, not sure where I am, and if I’m coming or going. I’m neither compelled to be with people nor to get tasks done. I’m not in a routine, but I still need to function. “Overwhelmed” keeps coming to mind. I won’t analyze it, but here’s what I see.

Four trips in four months (to sightsee in Israel, to visit relatives in Vancouver, BC, to attend a boarding school reunion in Dallas, TX, and to attend a 100th birthday party in Sebring, FL). The trips look like four steppingstones in a riverbank. I’ve stepped from one to the next till I’m standing on a fifth. I can’t go back in time except in my memory. I can only face forward, but the rushing water feels overwhelming, daunting. I’m frozen here. I don’t know what to do next.

I look up to see Jesus beckoning me to walk toward him. I hesitate. Will this be a step of faith like Indiana Jones, or like Peter stepping out of the boat to walk on water? The water is neither deep nor swift, so I’m not frightened. I’m just hesitant to get my clothes wet should I misstep.

And so I take off my shoes and socks and roll up my pantlegs. I want to look at my steppingstones one last time. I experienced them in haste, without slowing down to savor the scenery, and I missed something in my hurry to get to the last stone. I can’t release this jumble of images yet until I spend time with each one. Is it too late to do that or am I just supposed to move on and let it all go?

I can’t begin to list all the old and new friends I encountered on airplane rides and at each stop. I see strings attached to each person connected to my heart, and I’m overwhelmed with the memories. But I don’t have to hold them all, for I see that Jesus grasps each string. He can hand them back to me one at a time as needed to connect or reconnect. I also have photo albums and journals to contain the memories, but I need to record events as I remember them to offload them from my memory bank before they are lost. That will help.

As I continue to relive the precious memories, the stones begin to sink, including the one I’m standing on. When the water reaches ankle-height, I see a walkway to Jesus just below the surface. I run to Him, and He laughs and shouts, “Let’s dive in!” There’s no stopping now. I plunge into the water after Him. It’s peaceful in this pool, no longer a river. Or maybe it’s a pool between river points. I don’t know. I just know I want to stay here and not move on.

I glance at Jesus and see a look. Surely not worry, just more concern.

“What?”  I query. ” What is it?”

“You know there’s more work to do, don’t you? There’s more river of life to go down. You can’t stay here forever.”

“I know,” I sigh. “I know.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Of course.”

“Will you follow me when it’s time to move on?”

“Of course,” I respond.

“Good. Now let’s enjoy this rest just a little bit longer. And when it’s time, I promise to equip you for the next part of the journey.”

The Organized Mind

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions

Journal 2018

My mind is fighting itself this morning as I try to study the Word. This summer is so jam packed with travel, ministry, company, goals, and family events, it’s hard to stay present. I wake up with to-do lists in my head, with plans, ideas, and needs taking up more prefrontal cortex space than I care to give it. Feeling a little overwhelmed, my foot starts jiggling again.

I’m currently listening to a fascinating book on brain research: The Organized Mind: Thinking Straight in the Age of Information Overload, by Daniel J. Levitin. The author addresses the neurological importance of proper sleep, the inability of the brain to focus on more than one thing at a time, how multitasking actually reduces effectiveness, and the role of memory. I just wish I could retain all this information. (Click here for a summary video of the book.)

I already practice many of the principles the author suggests, but I struggle sometimes getting into the flow (as he terms it). This is when our left brain stands still and we go into right-brain mode to write, paint, or create music. When I have a lot on my mind, it’s harder to stay there.

One of my takeaways from the book is that mindless daydreaming mode is actually very purposeful. We need it. It’s almost like REM sleep where our brain sorts and searches and organizes information. We need time to daydream and not fill our minds 100% with stimuli and entertainment. What is screen time doing to my brain if I don’t ever give it a rest? If it’s not the computer, it’s the phone. If it’s not the phone, it’s the TV or iPad. So, when I wake in the morning, it’s hard to stay focused on God. My mind is going crazy trying to keep up with my schedule.

Visual: I’m balancing on the top rung of a floor-to-ceiling library ladder, randomly grabbing books off the shelves. I want to read them all, but which book do I start next? Where should I focus? How do I cram a lifetime of goals into what’s left of my short life span? I need a system, a plan. I can’t possibly read them all, and I don’t want to waste my time. I want to organize my life in an overcrowded library.

Balance

Yesterday was one of those days when I’d stretched to my limit of emotional and psychological endurance. When I get unbalanced (people versus alone time, leisure versus work), I must make adjustments to return to equilibrium. There’s my part and there’s God’s part. When I bleed over into trying to do God’s job, I take on burdens that harm me. The battle may be the Lord’s, but I must do my part and take care of my body, feed myself spiritually, and make wise decisions.

I need to leave the library for a while and stop rushing, relax, and gain some perspective. I need to be okay with not meeting a goal or a deadline. So today I think I’ll skip some of my scheduled activities, go for a walk, clean up my e-mail inbox, and organize a closet. The library books will still be there when I return.

Temperament and Triggers

Posted on by under Emotions

Journal 2018

I’ve been observing responses and reactions to life’s triggers from the perspective of different temperament types. I watched several people this week who were quick to verbally stand for right and defend the weak. I noticed others who could only see the behavior and had no patience for the wounded, making quick judgments and condemnations.

Ever since my healing journey began, I find I’m much more grace-filled toward people who struggle. It surely doesn’t excuse their responses, but I have more compassion toward those who fall or falter. I can see under or past the behavior.

On the other hand, I wish I had some people’s boldness to stand up to others to tell it like it is. Is that a built-in temperament type? I don’t keep silent now because of fear, like I used to. I just don’t have the boldness to tell people what I think they should do with their lives. Warning people that “I think you’ll regret that decision,” doesn’t come out of my mouth, and maybe it should. Calling people out on their sin or their choices takes enormous discernment, in my opinion. Maybe there’s still some codependency there, or maybe it’s just personality. Perhaps it’s the manner in which it is done that makes confronting feel uncomfortable to me.

I watched one person say to another: “Don’t do it, you’ll regret it.” My approach would have been, “Are you sure you want to do that? Have you considered that you might regret it?” One is more direct and straightforward, and perhaps that is what I’m noticing. I have an indirect approach. Both can be effective depending on the person or the recipient. God made us all different for a reason.

How to Live the Bible

Posted on by under Choices, God

Journal 2006

How to Live the Bible. What a great title for a book! I wonder if it’s been published before. If I were to write this book, what would I include?

First, I’d begin by confessing and forsaking all known sin in my life (deeds as well as inner thoughts).

Next, I would learn to listen to the Holy Spirit for daily guidance and follow His direction.

Third, I’d hide God’s Word in my heart. I’d memorize great chunks of Scripture.

Fourth (and this is not in order of importance), I would make a concerted effort to surround myself with a support system of believers.

Fifth, I’d maintain an accountability relationship with someone I trust.

And sixth, I’d devote my life to serving others with my God-given gifts and talents.

A 2025 Update. I notice my list did not include the point of salvation. That’s a given, for if you don’t have a relationship with the author of the book, it’s really hard to live the principles. Today, my list would be a lot simpler: love God and love others.

Supplication

Posted on by under Prayer

Journal 2018

I learned to pray out loud at my daddy’s knee. Every morning and every night without fail, our little family of five gathered together to read the Bible and pray, starting with the youngest (me) and progressing to the eldest. If I hesitated in my prayer, Daddy would prompt, “Help me, God, not to fight with my brother and sister.” (I’m not sure God answered that prayer till we were grownups.)

As a child and into young adulthood, every Wednesday night our church gathered for corporate prayer. My current place of worship prays together through digital media or sends emails listing prayer needs. Healing of the body seems to be the main focus of our requests. Is that because it’s the focus of our hearts? Or is it simply the safest thing to pray for in public? I remember a young man one time who asked our Sunday school class to pray for his emotional struggle. That stopped us cold (how could he be so vulnerable we thought), till someone jumped in to try to fix him. Ouch.

In my private prayers, I sometimes use the acronym ACTS (A = Adoration, C = Confession, T = Thanksgiving, and S = Supplication). I know what to do with the A, C, and T, but supplication or intercessory prayer in a group setting continues to baffle me.

When it’s just me and Jesus, my prayers are honest and heart related. When I’m in an inner healing prayer session with a client, it’s an intimate, vulnerable setting with safe people. I know what to pray for as we focus on lies and truth and release of pain. But when I’m in a Sunday school class or Bible study, I only hear a grocery list of concerns about doctor visits and travel safety. Those are legitimate needs, but it’s sad to me that we don’t feel safe with each other in corporate settings. And so, though I do pray for physical healing, I often pray for the person’s heart as well.

What has been your experience with corporate prayer?