My buddy Johnny K was fond of telling anyone who would listen: “I would much rather be standing in a river talking with Jesus than sitting in a pew thinking about fishing.” After three years of fighting like hell, he passed away in the Spring of 2025 from a glioblastoma. I cannot think about fishing, or friends, or rivers without thinking about Johnny K. 

I would like to suggest collage as a practice to be present to God, to yourself, and others. It’s an opportunity to bring out all your kindergarten skills: cutting, gluing, and arranging. It’s surprisingly peaceful and fun and doesn’t require any refined artistic skill. Invite a family member, a neighbor, or a group of friends to join you.

Most of us don’t consciously choose our screens, we drift into them; first thing in the morning, last thing at night, and in every moment of stillness in-between. Stillness becomes uncomfortable, like entering a room with the lights on, where worry, grief, or restlessness might be waiting. Our screens offer a quick and painless escape—a thousand tiny distractions that keep us from simply being.

Live music uniquely connects us to both people and place. It’s a communal experience that not only creates a connection between artist and audience, but those in the audience to one another. Shared music has been central to civilizations for both ceremonies and celebrations. Among the earliest expressions of humans, shared sounds formed communal bonds and reinforced beliefs. In a cultural moment where AirPods and headphones isolate and insulate us with sound, the practice of listening to live music invites connection, creation, and celebration.

Being freely & lightly attuned to the natural world around us reminds us of the patient pace of the Creator. This is not something to accomplish, but something to enter into, because it’s all happening anyway, and we aren’t at the center of any of it. We are invited to meet God in the wonder, enjoyment, and grief of it all.

December 21, the darkest night of the year, falls just days before Christmas. The world feels suspended in shadow as if holding its breath for something new. These long nights are a threshold—where the silence deepens, the stars emerge, and the veil between heaven and earth feels paper-thin.

Pausing is an invitation to interact with our lives, our neighbors and neighborhoods, with intention. It is a practice to be present to the sacredness of the people and place around us.

Wandering is a counter script to the often overly scheduled lives centered around efficiency and productivity. Wandering is a practice that cultivates curiosity, looking to be interrupted by the world around you. When we are willing to wander, we have the possibility of being present to what is around us.

Christmas lights hung outside your home are a tangible way to brighten the season for your neighbors. It may be a single strand lining the roof or an elaborate visual display, hanging Christmas lights is a historic Denver tradition that brings joy and light to your neighborhood.

A question to consider is what could the practice of Sabbath—stopping, resting, delighting, and worshipping—rooted in your place cultivate inside you?

Jesus lived a different way. He lived seeing life. What we see, and how we see, matters. If you don’t know where to start in loving your neighbors and neighborhood, ask Jesus to help you see.