Shannon S. McKee

musings and moments

When Duty Becomes Delight: Lessons from Dessert

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I want you to take a sec and think about your most favorite dessert. I’m not talking about prepackaged cookies from the Keebler elves. I’m talking about real dessert. Maybe more like something from the Mockingbird Bakery in Kent.

You know how it is when you’re having a really good dessert, right?

You savor every bite. Let it dissolve on your tongue as you enjoy every bit of flavor. And, then when you’re on the last bite, you feel a mixture of sadness and delight. Sadness because the whole experience is about to be over. Delight because it was rich and delicious and everything you had hoped it would be. The indulgence makes your heart happy.

That’s how I feel about Tiramasu. And Baklava. And quality dark chocolate… with fresh strawberries. And Graeter’s Rasberry Chocolate Chip Ice Cream.

And the Bible.

Whaaaaat?

You see, too often we think about the Bible like we think about brussel sprouts (you may insert some other hated vegetable if you’re a lover of these tiny cabbage-like greens; I don’t mean to offend). We know it’s good for us and that we should probably have our daily dose. The Bible IS that. It’s sustenance. But, it’s also delight. Sadly, the truth is that we don’t really savor it that way. We don’t anticipate it. Rather, like a picky child at the dinner table, we pinch our noses and choke it down until the next day when we’ll have to do it all again. Usually accompanied by a heavy side of guilt.

I want you to know that it doesn’t have to be this way. It wasn’t for King David. For this warrior-poet, God’s Word was more like eating dessert. Here’s what he said about it in Psalm 19:

The law of the LORD is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony of the LORD is sure, making wise the simple. The statutes of the LORD are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the LORD is pure, enlightening the eyes. The fear of the LORD is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments of the LORD are true and righteous altogether.

More to be desired are they than gold, yes, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them there is great reward.

After reading David’s praise of God’s words, do you get the sense that he was choking them down out of duty? No way! For David, it was his delight to take them in and let them transform his life!

Why? Because they restore the soul, make wise the simple, rejoice the heart, and enlighten the eyes.

Sweet friends, stop making your Bible a symbol of guilt and obligation! It’s not. It was never meant to be. Is it good for us? Yes. Should we read it regularly and apply ourselves to studying it? Yes. Do we have to read it? Yes. Another place in scripture calls it our daily bread – so, yes, there is certainly a sense in which HAVE to have it. But, only if we want to LIVE!

What a shame that we have made it so much more like eating brussel sprouts and less like feasting on something rich and decadent.

Why do we DO that? Is it that we’ve allowed ourselves to become satisfied with a steady diet of prepackaged Keebler crap so we feel full? Is it that our tastebuds have become dull and we just don’t know good food anymore? Maybe we just don’t remember how great a good piece of Baklava can taste? Is it that we’ve busied ourselves with so much other stuff that we’re really not “alive.” Oh, we look like we’re alive. But we’re really parched and dry and malnourished because we’re wasting away inside. Is it because we don’t think the dessert will be yummy? Maybe we’ve been duped into thinking it will be gross and cardboardy.

Probably a little bit of all of the above.

Could we try feasting? Because I don’t want to have dull tastebuds or eat prepackaged cookies or settle for wasting away. Or miss the good stuff because I thought it was cardboard. None of those sound appealing. Maybe lets try David’s approach.

David says that God’s Word is sweeter than honey.

We don’t really appreciate this illustration because we have sugar. But only recently in man’s history (mid-19th century) did sugar become affordable to the average Westerner. Prior to then, it was a very expensive luxury. I know that’s hard to believe because now it’s in EVERYTHING we eat. But it was once highly valued. And honey even more so because it’s twice as sweet as sugar and has healing properties. It was often used as a form of currency or as a tribute or offering. It was something to be prized and savored.

For just a moment, I want you to imagine honey just dripping off the honeycomb. Fresh, pure honey. Imagine a kid, sitting in a meadow with it – taking a big, sloppy lick right off the honeycomb.

Now, I want you to go pick up your Bible. And ask God to help you feel the same way about it. Rehearse David’s Words. Shout them back to God with reckless abandon.

Oh God, YOUR law is perfect, converting my soul: YOUR testimony is sure, making wise the simple. YOUR statutes are right, rejoicing my heart: YOUR commandment is pure, enlightening my eyes. YOUR fear is clean, enduring for ever: YOUR judgments are true and righteous altogether.

More to be desired are they than gold, yes, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb. If I keep them there is great reward.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve needed this reminder lately. COVID-19 really threw me off – I haven’t been very consistent in getting time with God in His Word. Every time I think about this, I feel guilty. Like I’m failing at my duties. I’m asking God to transform my perspective and draw me to His Words with joy. After all, His Words are a reflection of His heart and what is more beautiful and worthy than that?

When Quarantine Brings You Back to Table Life

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One of the things that has given me pause for thanksgiving during this season of the COVID-19 quarantine is a return to family meals.

We used to observe regular family meals here in the McKee household. For most of the elementary years, it was an assumed staple of our homelife. I cooked homemade meals most nights. On the nights that didn’t happen, we had leftovers. Occasionally we ate out or ordered pizza. At some point in there, Rick instituted a weekly ritual called Chef Rick Night. At first it was Mac N Cheese but eventually he started trying his hand at new, made-from-scratch recipes and now he has a rotation that the kids love. But, the main point is that in all of these scenarios, we sat down to eat. Together. Most nights of the week.

I grew up with a strong table life and my mom was quite confident in the kitchen. She passed that value (and its accompanying skills) on to me and it’s just something that has always been part of my homemaking. I really like to create an experience of joy and warmth at the table, often adding extra touches or lighting a candle or playing soft music in the background. This was our norm for a lot of years. (Please don’t let that put you under the pile if that’s NOT your thing. That’s not what this about. You probably have another thing that you do well that I don’t. It’s just that this is my thing.)

It was like that in our home for a lot of years. UNTIL… the kids hit the tween and teen years. Their evenings started to fill up with activity. Which coincided with a period of time in my own heart and life that was not a time of thriving. (I’ll just leave that there.) Needless to say, I stopped really fighting for table life and family meals. I didn’t invite people over as much and I wasn’t being very intentional to bring the McKee Four to the table at the same time. Family meals were happening once or twice a week a week. Maybe?

I could blame that on their schedules. Or our schedules. I could blame it on the drain of the teenage years and the accompanying tension that was sometimes at our table. I could blame it on the demands of launching a new, rapidly growing church. I could blame it on the changes to my home-work balance and schedule. I could blame it on just being sort of bored with the daily grind of cooking.

All of those are legit realities. It was really a mix of all of them. But, the bottom line is that I stopped fighting for that time. I stopped making it a priority and pushing us toward it. Both inwardly as a family and outwardly by inviting others to come into that space with us. It just sort of fell by the wayside, part of the carnage of our modern, busy lifestyle.

In recent months, some of that desire has been rekindled. We’ve been having people over for soup and bread on Sunday nights. I have been returning to planning and creating in the kitchen. I’ve been more motivated to care for my little family in that way. Most importantly, I’ve been reminded that it’s good – not just for our bodies but for our souls as well.

But even with my rekindled desire, there was still the pesky issue of our schedules. How do you stop that train once it is barreling down the tracks? Answer: a pandemic.

Hopefully that’s not what it will always take to get things turned around!! But, sometimes we need a do-over and it takes something big to get us there. I have to admit that we’ve been at the table together a lot more during this difficult season. And for that, I’m thankful.

Joanne Thompson’s book, Table Life, speaks much of what is in my heart regarding this return to the table. Things I have long held to be true. Sadly, I just haven’t practiced them as much in recent years. This season has reminded how much I do really love the Table Life aspect of community and nourishment.

In her chapter, Called to Table Life, Joanne says it this way:

Once upon many meals, Jesus – the strong man on a mission to redeem the world – took time to eat dinner. Imagine the satisfied grin on his suntanned face as he ate crispy fried fish and plump pomegranate seeds. Christ lived table life not on a television stage, but in Judean homes. Jesus needed  food, but his lifestyle also demonstrated a passionate preference for the table as an expression of the kingdom. His practice of eating meals with others in their homes was an answer to the prayer he taught his disciples, “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Over meals, he connected with family, strangers, skeptics, and friends. Across the table, hearts made for relationship came alive.

My heart leaps at that line: across the table, hearts made for relationship came alive! We’ve been experiencing a bit of that in this crazy first half of 2020. And as I look to count gratitude in the midst of this challenging “Shelter In Place” season, that is one of things I’ve added to my list.

What about you? How has God used this time to rekindle one of your passions or personal disciplines?

Have I Ever Introduced You to Emily?

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Have you ever had one of those experiences where you read a line from a book or heard a speaker say something and it just resonated? Like you felt like they were saying the thing you’ve been trying to say but couldn’t quite put to words? And when they said it, your heart sort of leaped? And then you became certain that if you ever got to meet said person in real life, that you’d be bosom friends? As in the Anne of Green Gables kind of bosom friends?

That’s how I feel about Emily P. Freeman. I started reading her stuff years ago. It must have been back when blogging was just getting popular. I think I even heard her speak at a blog conference during that period. Something about the way she expresses things just resonates with me. I like her insight, her way with words, her humility, and her warmth. I like that she weaves words together well but that she’s not extra wordy. That she is studied but not stuffy. I like that she knows Jesus as Lord, of course, but also as friend. I think there’s a real intimacy in her relationship with Him that is attractive. I also like that she knows she has valuable stuff to offer the world but that she doesn’t take herself too seriously. Many are the podcast episodes in which she pokes fun at herself.

The best way to sum it up is probably to say that, when I read her blog or one of her books or listen to her podcast, I leave refreshed. Like I just took in a bit of fresh air.

Her podcast (The Next Right Thing) this week about COVID-19 was about naming the things we’re feeling during this time. In my humble opinion is was a perfect message for this unsettling season – better than any encouragement I could give you myself. I’d love it if you go over and give it a listen. Her podcasts release every Tuesday and are always short (10 to 15 minutes). They are both reflective and practical. I think you’ll find this week’s well worth your time… and, let’s be honest, what else are you doing? You could use the break from binge watching Netflix, right?

Let me just wet your whistle with this thought from her yesterday…

In this time of uncertainty, it’s okay to grieve the endings even though others may have it a lot worse. This is a time to name the places where we are beginning, middling and ending, and then to allow others the space to do the same… This is not the time to look too far into the future or try to predict outcomes. This is not a time to think in terms of months or weeks or even days. This is a time to name what remains unnamed within us and then to ask ourselves, what is our next right thing in the next 10 minutes? – Emily P. Freeman

I love her permission to name the things. And her wisdom on how best to do that.

If you find that you enjoy her tone and perspective as much as I do, her book The Next Right Thing is free right now in ebook form if you have Amazon Prime.

Here’s the link to the podcast episode that I quoted above : The Next Right Thing Podcast, Episode 120. You can also subscribe to it in all the usual ways if you’d rather listen to it on your phone. I listen to it “on the regular”.

Searching for New Normals During a Pandemic

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I’ve settled on my intention. I’m trying for some sense of normal. Get out of bed when the alarm goes off at its usual time. Find the scrunchie and pull the hair back. Slide on the slippers (the cute owl ones that I love). Stumble groggy up the dark hall. Light the candle on the dining room table. Start the soft piano music to fill the background. Unload the dishwasher. Change out the hand towel and the wash cloth. Hear the soft click of the gas lighting as I warm the kettle. Load the tea pot for me and the french press for him. Feed the dog. Check my weather app to see if I’ll be able to get a walk in.

Normal. That’s what I’m going for here.

As I move about the kitchen, my mind wanders. I feel a tinge of bitterness rise up like bile in my soul as I embrace the truth that things really aren’t normal. At all. I remember that our fam is supposed to be on a Spring Break in Florida this week. That little sliver of bitterness is just enough. A crack is all it needed and now the door is flung wide open. Next, I’m recalling last night’s reports about the stimulus bickering on Capital Hill. And then I’m worrying about my sweet friend’s recent Facebook live post and hoping she’ll be OK. From there, I’m waxing poetic (inwardly) about how much I hate the guilt-inducing virus memes and the skewed information in articles and posts online. And then back to worry… “is everyone OK? Why haven’t I heard back from my friend in Rome? I hate that mom and dad live 12 hours away. Is my MIL’s asthma putting her at higher risk? Is my Grandad lonely over there in that big house? Will my friend’s immune system cope with this?”

Welp. I wanted normal. And, if I’m not careful, this part is normal too. This tendency toward bitterness, worry, and stress is always lurking there in the shadows. THOSE neuropathways are well-worn in this old brain.

So I pour the tea and head to a cozy spot. The house is still quiet… because, well, things actually aren’t normal and the teenagers aren’t up and headed out for their normal days. Who really knows when they’ll be up – could be 10 minutes, could be two hours. Because… yeah, nothing’s normal. Except, evidently, my old, sinful nature! So… back to finding a cozy spot before I start getting bitter about the not knowing.

In the quiet, I admit that I don’t have the mental energy to go to Jeremiah – my original plan for lenten reading when I was all inspired back in February. Instead, I return to a familiar passage from Paul’s letter to the Philippians. I taught it just a few weeks ago. Who knew that we’d all need it so badly just a few days later?

The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.

At that, I am calmed. This is how I build a new neuropathway. By renewing my mind with truth instead of staying stuck on the pathway that leads to inward destruction. I forge new connections, traveling a newer pathway that is really the most ancient pathway of all.

Oh, peace of God. Spirit of the Living God, come stand like a sentry over my heart and mind. Guard it like a prized possession – your treasure. Help me turn to you moment by moment, letting YOU and YOUR peace stand vigilant over my thoughts, emotions, passions, and desires. Thank you that I don’t have the burden of working harder to do the guarding all by myself. I don’t have to muster joy out of my own being. I just have to come to you. To let my thoughts dwell on you: YOU are true. YOU are honorable. YOU are just… not like our politicians but always exactly just. YOU are pure… there is no blemish in you; no sliver of bitterness rising up like bile. YOU are lovely… so lovely that I can barely take it in. YOU are commendable… in every way. Crowd out the old ways with Your presence and bring me back to this quiet mental space often, Lord. Nothing else will suffice. Make this my new normal. Amen and amen.