Sharpening Our Craft

Recently, I spent a delightful hour on Zoom with the GCD Writers’ Guild. The guild is part of a Christian ministry to writers and readers alike with a goal to “cultivate writers and resources that make, mature, and multiply disciples of Jesus.” This guild is important to writers for encouragement, swapping ideas, and sharpening our craft. As C.S. Lewis said, “It is impossible to write one’s best if nobody else ever has a look at the result.”

Timarie, the guild leader, recorded my Q&A session with the other writers and agreed to let me share it HERE.

50% Off Audiobook of A Day's Journey

Our friends at Christian Audio let me know that until July 1, 2024, they are offering 50% off the audiobook of A Day’s Journey. I haven’t narrated one of my books before, but this book was especially personal, so I’m grateful I was able to do the narration.

To get more information or to buy the audiobook, go to 50% OFF A Day's Journey: Stories of Hope and Death-Defying Joy (audiobooks.com).

The book is also available in paperback (Amazon has a great sale going on right now!) and as an e-book.

My Year of Jubilee

And thou shalt remember all the way which the Lord thy God led thee. (Deuteronomy 8:2)

In 1974—fifty years ago—I crossed the Atlantic for the first time when I was sixteen. I had been selected from a number of ROTC units to spend the summer of ’74 overseas on the crew of the USS Denebola, and so my first crossing wasn’t by plane in five hours, but by ship in nine days.

I remember a particular Sunday morning that summer. I was assigned to the bridge to observe the helmsman. We were in the middle of the Atlantic steering a course of 90° due east, bound for Gibraltar. With blue sea before us, blue sky above us, and a steady-as-she-goes direction, I suggested to the helmsman that I could take the helm. I thought, “If I can drive a car, I can drive a ship.” He gave me a few instructions, particularly the compass bearing of 90°, and then went to have a cigarette. What could go wrong?

Standing before that great brass wheel steering a 700-foot Navy vessel, I was elated. But after a few short minutes, I heard a steady stream of curses growing louder and headed in my direction. A red-faced lieutenant came on the bridge demanding to know who was at the helm. It was not a question any of us wanted to hear.

After the officer set things right, he took me out on the bridge and pointed to the ship’s wake. Instead of a nice straight wake as we sailed due east, the wake was a wide “J” and now we were headed south! To this day I don’t know how I could go off course so quickly and so completely, but it was an easy fix out there in the wide, wide sea. Afterwards, I was assigned to the night shift on starboard watch, where I could do no harm.

But something else happened earlier that year that would actually set the course of my life because 2024 also marks 50 years since God called me to preach the Gospel. God’s “call” is not mysterious, but it is often misunderstood. Christ’s claims are already over all of life, and our Cross-bearer’s call to “take up your cross and follow me” is clear, personal, and compelling. So, even if it doesn’t come with an on-the-road-to-Damascus experience, it is still the path of life.  “For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 16:25).

I think Hudson Taylor’s missionary calling is typical. You would think that Taylor, the pioneer missionary who opened up the interior of China for the Gospel and mobilized thousands to eventually follow his footsteps, would have a dramatic encounter with God. Well, actually he did—but without lights and voices. After his conversion at 17, Taylor poured himself into his church’s outreach and, according to one biographer, he “soaked up Scripture until he thought in its language.” Later, Taylor described a day when alone in prayer, he met with God:

In the gladness of my heart I poured out my soul before God, and again confessing my grateful love to Him who had done everything for me . . . I besought Him to give me some work for Him, as an outlet for love and gratitude; some self-denying service, no matter what it might be, however trying or however trivial. . . . The presence of God became unutterably real and blessed, and . . . I remember stretching myself on the ground, and lying there silent before Him with unspeakable awe and unspeakable joy. For what service I was accepted I knew not. But a deep consciousness that I was not my own took possession of me.

Here’s what happened to me on Sunday, February 3, 1974, in a little country church set amid the tobacco fields of southern Virginia. In the weeks leading up to that Sunday, I felt an awakening in my heart that God might want me to preach, but how was I to know? I knew it wasn’t a step to be taken lightly, and I was already interested in pursuing a career in the Navy so I could serve my country and see the world. I was going to be spending the summer on a Navy ship, which was quite an honor, and a good step toward my dream of going to Annapolis. But what was this tug on my heart when I read the Bible and heard it preached? I write these things to underscore the draw that a career in the Navy was for me and the crossroad I now stood in.

That Sunday morning on February 3, in a quiet moment, I came across Proverbs 1:33, “But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil.” That verse is not a typical “calling” passage at all, but the words stood out like they were written just for me. But how was I to know if this “hearkening” was to answer the call to preach the Gospel? I soon found out.

I went and joined the choir that morning, and we led the congregation in singing, “How Great Thou Art.” Don’t think in terms of a powerful musical presentation with a full orchestra. Instead, think of a country church with a piano and maybe a hundred voices—kids, old folks, and everyone in between—simply joining in on another Sunday morning song:

Then sings my soul,

My Saviour God, to Thee,

How great Thou art!

How great Thou art!

What happened next is hard to describe. Like Hudson Taylor said, “The presence of God became unutterably real,” for somehow during the singing, the presence of God suddenly and unmistakably became so real that we couldn’t go on. Our pastor simply stepped up to the pulpit and invited any who wanted to come and pray. Nothing like this had ever happened in our church before, and I knew this was the moment to “hearken” to the One who was calling me into His glorious service. I left my place on the back row of the choir loft and went forward to pray, and there it was settled.

Though I was only fifteen at the time, my pastor strongly—and correctly—believed that if you were called to preach that you “exercised the gift.” And so, he had me in the pulpit the next week preaching my first sermon. I feel sorry for those people who had to endure my early messages, but I am also incredibly thankful for their patience and for the wonderful mentors that God brought into my life over the years.

There isn’t space to write of all that was to follow—pastoring, writing, teaching, the founding of Frontline. Nor do I think that would be particularly interesting or helpful, but these things are written to share with you my joy in remembering God’s faithfulness in my jubilee year of ministry. It’s also a reminder that God continues to send workers into the Harvest and that “the gifts and calling of God are irrevocable” (Romans 11:29).

Like Hudson Taylor, my prayer is still that God “would give me some work for Him, as an outlet for love and gratitude.” And He continues to answer that prayer wonderfully. Even in my 65th year and even through a fierce battle with cancer, He has given me the strength and days to continue to serve Him.

One of my new favorite hymns these days is “Yet Not I but Through Christ in Me” by CityAlight. For fifty years, in every season and circumstance, I can say—I can sing:

I labour on in weakness and rejoicing

For in my need, His power is displayed.

. . .

To this I hold, my hope is only Jesus

All the glory evermore to Him

When the race is complete, still my lips shall repeat:

Yet not I, but through Christ in me!

Dust in the Lion's Paw

Recently I had a celebratory book signing and read a portion of my new book, A Day’s Journey. Part of the last chapter gave a good overview of the book; so I decided to share that here as well.

This story is an ordinary one. My dwindling days and diminishing strength are nothing special, since we are all terminal. So given that our days run swiftly toward nightfall, how do we spend them well? I have no easy answer, and I struggle with that question even as I make little plans for next week and bigger plans for next year, aware of how cancer has loosened my grip on my calendar and stripped away any illusion that I am in control of it. I’ve learned, though, that there’s something really good about getting a proper impression of my own smallness. I’ve experienced this in nature while standing in a forest of sequoias, when caught in a storm at sea, and as I’ve sat beneath the moon and stars while the sun burned off the edge of night. There’s wonder in facing such immensities. I like the way the intrepid traveler Freya Stark described waiting for dawn in a faraway place: “It was still far from daylight. The high dome of heaven was revolving with peacock colors and secret constellations among the outlined rocks. . . . I sat there for over an hour, watching the moonlight retreat from the rocky bastions, a process of infinite majesty and peace.”[1] In awe of her smallness before such magnificence, she was, quoting an ancient poet, “like dust in the lion’s paw.”[2]

It is a powerful image, for I, too, am dust, yet caught up in greater things. There are days that the fearful immensity of death looms all around me with its terrible silence and then strikes me with sorrow over this tearing of life and the pain it will leave in its wake to those I love. Yet my going to God is the glorious immensity that makes all the world’s immensities of small account. And because of the resurrection, Jesus has made even the immensity of death little more than dust in the Lion’s paw.

[1] Freya Stark, The Valleys of the Assassins, quoted in Paul Theroux, The Tao of Travel: Enlightenments from Lives on the Road (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2011), 237.

[2] Stark, The Valleys of the Assassins, quoted in Theroux, The Tao of Travel, 237.

If you are interested, you can purchase a copy at the publisher's website or from Frontline Missions or at most online retailers.

A Day's Journey Released Today!

Rejoicing today in God’s kindness that I can share these stories of hope and death-defying joy! If you’d like a copy, it is now available at Store — Frontline Missions or at Amazon and other online retailers.

Missionary MythBusters - Part 5

This last Missionary MythBuster addresses “The Call.” Over the years, I have had countless conversations and cups of coffee with Christians who are often sincere but genuinely confused about “being called.” I’ve encountered two sides of the pendulum’s swing in regard to “the call.” The first is those who “are called” but seem to be the only ones aware of it. They toss around the word “burden,” as if it weighs nothing at all. And they love to travel to “the mission field,” which by definition is everywhere outside the Lower 48. While I appreciate their initiative and enthusiasm, it’s sometimes difficult to distinguish between their personal calling and their personal ambition.

Often, this group has little connection to the church—outside of the need for financial help. Churches exist mostly to enable them to fulfill “God’s calling”—and if they ever make it to another country, they will likely expect the local believers to continue to make their missionary dreams come true. Counsel regarding getting involved in disciple-making now (before attempting it in another language) is met with a polite smile. Some of these individuals are just headstrong, but many have simply never had the opportunity to be discipled by mentors in their church, mentors who themselves have a big view of God and the Gospel.

“While it’s true that God doesn’t call everyone to serve him on the foreign field, it is equally true that we build walls out of our own fears.”

On the other end of the spectrum are those who are waiting for “a call” that never comes. They are faithful in their church, are there whenever the doors are open, and are seriously and prayerfully interested in missions. But, they haven’t had a Damascus-Road-type experience. Without such a calling or a sign or a soaked sheepskin, they are afraid to venture out. While it’s true that God doesn’t call everyone to serve him on the foreign field, it is equally true that we build walls out of our own fears. Often the first obstacle to overcome en route to reaching the Gospel-destitute half of the world isn’t border crossings or barbed wire or ISIS; it’s the truly good walls of the truly good works that surround our current comfort zone.

In counseling, the place to take both the “frequent flyer” and the “pew sitter” (and everyone in between) is the cross. In Matthew 16, Jesus, on the way to Jerusalem, told his disciples that suffering and death are at the other end of that road and that “he must go.” The Lord went on to say, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” (Matthew 16:24-25).

“Christ’s followers are, in fact, to follow him.”

This calling—this radical, death-and-life demand—has already been given to every believer. This stunning, cross-shaped call is better than a lightning bolt and more enduring than feelings or fleeces. Christ’s followers are, in fact, to follow Him. They are to fully identify with Him, fully embrace Him, fully follow Him—whatever that will cost and wherever that will lead. Unlike the disciples who first heard this call when crosses were not ornamental, by grace we receive this call on the other side of Golgotha and the empty tomb! He is risen. He is with us. Always.

This is why the “missionary call” that I hear described by those who have served Christ for years in hard, distant places is a settled, life-changing conviction that Jesus is alive and present—an all-important realization that they share with Paul on the Damascus Road. And because of that, whether they are serving in Afghanistan or China or North Africa, what I hear repeatedly is, “Coming here was just the next step for me in following Jesus.” Though they have felt the bruising weight of the cross, they are there because they have caught a glimpse of Jesus and are hastening after Him.

At the end of this series, I would once again like to thank my friend Dana Thompson for his illustrative cartoons of these five Missionary Myths!

What Gloria Furman says about "A Day's Journey"

Now available for pre-order.

Missionary MythBusters - Part 4

In this Missionary MythBusters, we will take a look at the myth that missionaries live in constant danger. I want to address this subject with care, for some missionaries and other Christians do serve in dangerous places, such as war zones. But even there, life isn’t one of constant danger. For example, my friend Pavlo pastors in Kyiv and currently lives in a war zone—and for a time was even under Russian occupation. He shares the same dangers that everyone who lives there is experiencing—their country is at war, and they live under the constant threat of a missile attack. Yet, Pavlo and his dear family serve Christ faithfully and courageously.

However, back to the Missionary MythBuster that most missionaries don’t live in constant danger. The truth is many missionaries live about as comfortably and “safely” as they would in America.

Danger is relative, and it can be over-emphasized—even by some missionaries. And this isn’t a “new” myth. Here’s an excerpt from a letter William Carey wrote in 1809 to his mission board about a missionary they had sent who seemed to exaggerate danger:

Bro. Robinson has been [appointed to] Tibet now nearly two years, but I am quite discouraged at his delays. I believe he is strongly inclined to stay at Calcutta, where his abilities as an English preacher are (he thinks) acceptable, but the truth is Bro. R. fears dangers and his imagination creates a thousand dangers where not one exists. Brothers Marshman & Ward are quite discouraged at his excuses and delays and have nearly given over all hopes of him. The truth is he might have engaged in the work two years ago, had it not been for his fears.*

In another letter, he put the danger missionaries face in better perspective:

Missionaries must go into the country. Indigo manufacturers do. Military officers do, and it is probable that a military officer, not to mention a private, suffers more real privation and encounters more dangers than a missionary will in his whole life.*

“...living dangerously is not so much the issue as is the willingness to take risks in light of the sovereignty of God...”

Whether we are serving Christ among the nations or in our neighborhood, living dangerously is not so much the issue as is a willingness to take risks in light of the sovereignty of God and the urgent demands of the Gospel. For this, we need to look no further than Matthew 16:24-25 for guidance on whether risk is right:

Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

It’s clear that cross-bearing isn’t optional, and it always means risk-taking as we fully follow and fully identify with our Cross-bearer. Get hold of these words. Memorize what Jesus said here. Call them to mind often because we cannot save our lives—we can only spend them. So, spend them well—spend them for Christ.

*Excerpts from The Journal and Selected Letters of William Carey, collected and edited by Terry G. Carter (Macon, Georgia: Smyth & Helwys Publishing, 2000) 132-134.

Very special thanks to my friend Dana Thompson for all his Missionary MythBusters cartoons!

-

I am excited to let you know that my new book, A Day’s Journey, will be released on October 24. I’m particularly grateful that my friend, Joni Eareckson Tada, wrote the Foreword. Here’s an excerpt from it in which she recounts our first meeting some years back:

It was my first encounter with Tim Keesee. Although a presenter at the conference with his own busy schedule, he had dropped everything to help a disabled woman in distress. That’s the way Tim is wired. He gladly participates in the hardships of others.

Just watch his DVD series, Dispatches from the Front. You’ll find Tim laboring alongside Thai Christians risking their lives to rescue women out of slavery. He’s bushwhacking his way through a jungle, helping to carry supplies to a church outpost. He’s crouching with his journal by a charcoal fire alongside a handful of Africans, scribbling down their faith stories by firelight. Back in his tent, he takes out his pen and fills more pages. He is tireless. Relentless. And utterly dedicated to his quest. Tim is out to capture unheard-of examples of Spirit-inspired courage.

There’s a reason for his quest.

Tim knows that with every hard effort bravely faced, with every gentle word spoken under affliction, and with every cross cheerfully shouldered, the Church is ratcheted up to a higher level. When sufferers exalt their Savior, they infuse iron into the faith of others. Their testimonies endow people with a clearer view of God. And all of it makes the body of Christ strong and purehearted. The Church—especially the Western Church—is in urgent need of such examples.

Tim Keesee is not slowing down his quest. Once again, he’s been hard at work cataloguing the stories of courageous Christians. But this time, his journal looks different. In A Day’s Journey, he not only records the faith stories of others . . . he includes his own. Tim’s recent battle against a fierce cancer has enlisted him among his brave examples. And we, his readers, are all the richer for it.

A Day’s Journey is now available for preorder from the publisher, Bethany House, with a great pre-order price! In addition, churches and ministries can get an extra discount off bulk orders if they order before it is released. (Call 616-957-3110 or go to the publisher’s website for more information about bulk orders.) A Day’s Journey is also available for preorder from Amazon, Christianbook.com, Barnes & Noble, and many other outlets.

My prayer for this book is that it will give us the endurance we need, remind of the joy we have, and show us the Gospel we love, the Cross we bear, and the hope we embrace until faith becomes sight.

Missionary MythBusters - Part 3

This Missionary MythBuster is a not-so-serious one. It’s the idea that missionaries eat weird food—and the crazier and grosser the food, the better the missionary. I’ve rubbed shoulders with many missionaries over the years at countless conferences, and some of their gut-wrenching stories of what they’ve eaten sound too good to be true—and often it seems their purpose is to make the audience gag. Of course, they are just showing off a bit, but the problem is this does a disservice to those listening, especially kids, who think to themselves, “I can’t be a missionary—I don’t even eat broccoli!”

Here are two things to consider regarding this missionary myth. First, it goes without saying there are a great variety of foods in the world, and there are many new foods to discover that are delightful. But it’s also true there is food you really enjoy—and enjoy often—that someone from another culture would find completely disgusting. And vice versa. For example, years ago, I was traveling by train across China with my son, and I wrote the following in my journal:

The Xinjiang train rumbles along through the northern Gansu. Dusk hangs over the brown expanse that slips by, and everyone in our crowded train is settling in for the night. My bed on the top of a six-bunk compartment is coffin-like—just two feet high and wide. Fortunately, it is open at the end so my feet can stick into the aisle, which is filled with people eating strange, pungent foods. One man near me is eating something that resembles nightcrawlers and washing them down with beer. Tim Jr. and I made up some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and were savoring every bite, having been away from such fine fare for several weeks. However, we looked up to find passengers gathered around staring with curiosity and horror at what pale people eat!

Which brings me to my second point. There is in these stories of eating weird things an implication that if the missionary declines to eat whatever is set before him or her, then the host will refuse the Gospel and be lost forever. This is usually based on Luke 10:7-8, “And remain in the same house, eating and drinking what they provide, for the laborer deserves his wages. Do not go from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and they receive you, eat what is set before you.” These are instructions given to the disciples when taking the Gospel from village to village. What Jesus was teaching is that the messenger should be shown hospitality—and that the messenger should not take advantage of the hospitality they are shown. The problem with the “Monkey Brains” myth is that it takes a reasonably understood passage and applies it to rare and extreme occasions.

It’s true the Gospel worker must live in community among those he or she has been sent to so that barriers of custom, cuisine, and language are minimized as much as possible in order that the life-giving Gospel may be communicated as clearly as possible. And crossing cultures means trying new things—and food is a big part of that because it’s a daily part of community and hospitality. But adapting to a different diet is no different than adapting to a different language or climate. It takes a bit of time and effort, but over time, strange things become familiar (and even enjoyed). The truth is no missionary consistently eats—by choice or by circumstance—food that is revolting.

“Don’t be stopped by fear of all the uncertainties ahead.”

So, kids (and adults!) take heart. You don’t have to eat monkey brains—or even broccoli—in order to be an effective missionary. Also remember, don’t be stopped by fear of all the uncertainties ahead. Instead, be confident in Jesus’ promise that He will be with you and will give all that you need in abundance as you follow Him.