The message of the 2024 high school retreat was how to be a living sacrifice for God. This message wasn’t left behind at Twin Lakes camp. It has continued on and still affects many students today.
One of these students is Keaton Welch.
Keaton felt God’s call and was led to the podium to speak in front of the whole school. This time, Judah’s student council president wasn’t leaving his seat in the stands to make a fun announcement about going to the taco truck. Instead, on November 7, 2024, Keaton spoke at chapel about his experience with pride and how God wanted nothing to do with it.
This is his story:
I thought I could cruise through senior year and have a good time.
Jesus had other ideas.
I figured I would have a problem-free year before beginning a new phase of my life in college.
Jesus wanted me to begin a new phase of life now.
Speaking to you up here right now is part of that new phase of my life. When I watched students speak in chapel, I envisioned myself doing the same one day. I had it all planned out in my head. I would share how I had it all figured out. Oh, and shout out Jesus!
I never thought I would be sharing what I am sharing now.
It started right at retreat. Retreat was a call to action — a challenge to live your life for Christ. It was a challenge to be transformed and to be a living sacrifice for Jesus. A lot of us are still wrestling with this challenge. I still am.
These themes and what I experienced at our retreat caused me to ask difficult and uncomfortable questions. These difficult and uncomfortable questions were convicting. I was terrified of the idea of sacrifice and of the unknown. I didn’t want to be uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be a living sacrifice.
I wanted the comfort and certainty of my way.
Besides, I am a “good” kid. Why does it matter if I’m in control of my own life if I’m not doing anything “bad”? I know what God has called me to do. I’ll just do it later. But as Mr. Neethling pointed out to me, if I can’t be faithful with the here and the now, how can God trust me in the future?
I soon knew what I had to sacrifice. It was pride. I had to sacrifice my pride.
I had to sacrifice my attitude of “I got it figured out”; my attitude of “my worst is better than other people’s best”; my attitude of “I’m not a bad kid; I don’t do X, Y, and Z, so I’m good on my own”; my attitude of thinking “I can run into a fire and not even smell like smoke”; my attitude of being “a third-party Christian,” where I independently hire myself out according to my own “terms and conditions” rather than being “all in” — rather than being a living sacrifice for Jesus.
When I began to sacrifice my pride, God showed me things that had been problems for a while. When I finally put my pride aside, it’s like I could see the walls that I had put up in my mind fall down and the rubble just sat there for a while. I went through a time of revelation.
God told me that I’m not what I cracked myself up to be.
He told me, “I don’t have a single need for any of the things that you pride yourself on or that you think you provide. I gave you those things, and you will waste them if you use them for yourself. I need a willing heart. You are no different from anybody else. All I need is a willing heart.”
I knew that a willing heart was something that I didn’t have.
I can be a Pharisee. I can walk around saying and doing the right things in front of other people, but I lack the same energy when I am by myself. I do the right things for the wrong reasons. I do them to glorify myself. I put on a mask.
I make sure this is not detectable by others. How often at Judah or at church are we just trying to blend in? How often do people have no idea of what is really going on in our hearts and minds?
I am guilty of exactly that, just blending in. My faith wasn’t what I made it seem. My faith was weak and inconsistent, though I am often seen as “the good kid” who is “a good reflection” of Jesus. Oftentimes, my faith is me trying to control God rather than offering myself as a living sacrifice to Him.
I have been playing a dangerous game, by putting on this mask. But God has shown me the truth about it. I have a decision to make.
After retreat, I confessed these things to my friends and teachers, and we prayed together. I am confessing them again to you right now.
God has helped.
He has met me in my own thoughts.
He woke my sister up at 2:30 in the morning to lay on her heart that her brother was struggling with sincerity in his faith. He sent Mrs. Santiago to have a beautiful conversation with me, without knowing what I was experiencing. Everything she said was spot on.
The final nail in the coffin happened on a Sunday at Mr. Neethling’s house. It was the normal great Neethling meal and conversation. Then Mr. Neethling began asking around the room what people had been reading in the Bible. I don’t know if he simply forgot or if his intuition kicked in, but he didn’t ask me. He asked everyone but me. I didn’t have an answer. I hadn’t been reading anything.
Here I am thinking that I’ve got it all figured out, but I was surrounded by people who humbly spent time with Jesus. I realized something: I am not the person I think I am. I am not some superstar. I got humbled, and I felt embarrassed.
That’s not all. Someone began to speak about their walk with Jesus. While this person was being vulnerable, I realized that I had contributed to their struggles. In fact, I realized that I had made their problems worse. My perspective was flipped on its head. I had to sit there and think about how my pride hurt other people.
I realized then that I didn’t have the time, ability, or right to measure my way against God’s way. My way was destructive.
I realized that I don’t “have it figured out”; that “my worst” is actually awful; that I’m not “good on my own” but that left to my own way, I suck; that “I can run into a fire” and not only smell like smoke but come out charred and burned.
What I had prided myself on and put my identity in was rooted in evil, and I had the audacity to put my filthy rag in God’s face and boast about it as if it were my biggest accomplishment.
Maybe that’s why God calls us to be a living sacrifice: because putting my way on the altar every day, and embracing His way, helps people rather than hurting them. It builds rather than destroys.
I am realizing that becoming a living sacrifice, that living out my faith, is a process and that it will be a process moving forward. There is no such thing as a finished product, and when I think this way — that I am somehow finished, that I have enough Jesus — I’m creating a twisted and prideful reality that prioritizes my way.
How am I going to do this for real? I am realizing that I have to make sure that I love and serve the person of Jesus.
I have a hard time saying the name Jesus.
I can say God or Lord or Christ, but saying Jesus is hard. It comes with a sense of guilt and fear. I’ve wondered if it’s just a weird habit of mine. However, I have learned otherwise.
It stems from a disconnect in having a deep, affectionate, and loving relationship with Jesus. I have learned that I am simply a fan of Jesus, not a follower.
With this knowledge, I have no excuse.
We are never done growing, and you can’t put a ceiling on your faith. In fact, choosing to be a living sacrifice is a decision I will have to make every day to live faithfully to God. That’s what I had to learn. There is no “final product.” And if there were, I am certainly not it.
I need Jesus each and every day, and I have known that. But the time has come for me to start living like I know I need Him every day. It’s time to make Jesus a lifestyle and not a hobby. It’s time for me to become a follower, and not a fan.
My pride has to go. It has to be all about Jesus.
Jesus, take my swollen pride and give me a willing heart. Help me to see the need for you every day. Help me do this for real.
In a moment of complete vulnerability, Keaton spoke about his struggle with pride. God told Keaton to break down the walls of his pride and to lean instead on the cornerstone of Jesus. As Keaton later explained to us, “The moon can’t brag about its own light, because it’s only reflecting the light of the sun. The same goes for Christians and God. The light is from God.” Keaton’s story encourages all of us to let go of our pride and to fall into the merciful arms of Christ, not as a fan but as a follower.
—Braden Laird, class of ’25
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