Remembering Tim Keller
Rev. Timothy Keller photographed in 2019. Nathan Troester for The Atlantic
It could be said that if it were not for Tim Keller’s life and ministry, I would probably not be writing this newsletter as a Clapham staffer. Although I am a pastor’s kid and was raised in a loving Christian home, around the age of 12, I became totally turned off toward Christianity and Jesus. I recall feeling trapped–I had not asked Jesus to die for me, yet here I was already on the hook to have to give up everything fun, beautiful, and interesting to live what seemed like a life of deprivation and being nice to people’s faces and mean behind their backs.
Between the ages of 12 and 26, I had a few encounters with Jesus that were authentic and beautiful. But the caveat of following him always seemed to mean becoming someone I wasn’t: conservative, meek/submissive, and super-spiritual. It meant signing on to conservative, Republican politics that I didn’t share. And it seemed to mean not having any fun (I love to dance).
After college, I moved out of my parents’ house in Queens, NY to an apartment on the Upper East Side that had seen its best days sometime in the late 19th century. I was 23 and an overachieving workaholic, and I partied about as hard as I worked. I had a roommate who regularly bounced her rent checks. We also had mice! The job that I thought would be my salvation turned out to make me miserable, and the Lehman bro I was dating ended things. It didn’t take long for me to start having panic attacks on the train to work.
It was my Jewish therapist, with no skin in the church-game, who convinced me to go back to church. Looking back, I see God’s creativity, sense of humor, and kindness in using my neuroses and unhealthy habits to make himself known. My therapist thought that attending a different church from my parents–who, by the way, did try very hard to show me that God loved me unconditionally, but I couldn’t receive it–would help with my anxiety. Upon a family friend’s recommendation, I decided to check out Redeemer Presbyterian Church because it was huge, and I thought I could hide from overly enthusiastic Christians trying to evangelize me.
At Redeemer, no overly enthusiastic people tried to evangelize me. Instead, a bald, bespectacled former college professor delivered sermon after sermon in fascinating lecture format and told me about a Jesus I had never encountered before. This Jesus was beautiful, wonderful, challenging, and surprising. This Jesus wasn’t asking me to sign on to some culture war or to stop being myself. In fact, he wanted to save me from being an overachieving try-hard, so I could be myself. And yes, while I didn’t ask him to die for me, he did it anyway–because he loved me. All he wanted from me was my burden and my heart.
In a recent piece about Tim Keller for First Things, Kevin DeYoung wrote critically of Redeemer’s approach to evangelism. “I fear that anxious evangelicals hope that if they can just be grace-centered enough, contextualized enough, do enough to serve the community, and make clear that they are not Republicans, then unbelievers will turn to Christ.”
But that approach–grace-centered, contextualized, socially-oriented, and nonpartisan–led me to say yes to Jesus on an unseasonably warm and sunny Sunday in March 2007. I had said it other times, but this time I knew I meant it. I was fully aware that taking up my cross and following Jesus would take me places I wasn’t sure I wanted to go, but I was also aware that, left to my own devices, I was wandering around in the dark.
A year later, I was neck-deep in my first year of graduate school for public policy. I’d gone into my MPA program hoping to gain skills to eventually help run my parents’ non-profit organization, which fights poverty and hunger in New York City. Through that first year of school and through my time at Redeemer, I became even more convinced of the importance of engaging faith communities in these policy initiatives. One day, I found myself leafing through the bulletin at church, looking at job openings. Redeemer was looking for an “evangelism initiatives coordinator.” I needed an internship for school, and it piqued my interest for a moment. Then I ignored it for three weeks– until I couldn’t stand the Holy Spirit’s prompting any longer. I applied and was given what turned out to be the best job I’ve ever had (no offense, Mark!). I got to spend four years of my life working to create opportunities and spaces within Redeemer for people who wanted to know more about Jesus but were skeptical or hesitant (like I had been). Taking that job changed the course of my entire life and work. It taught me how to really engage with people where they were at, with the questions and hang-ups they had. In my opinion, there is no greater honor than helping people come to know Jesus. It was the ultimate bridge-building work, and I loved every minute of it.
But saying yes to Jesus means going wherever he leads. I eventually left Redeemer and moved to Washington, DC. I found myself working at Sojourners and then the ONE Campaign before I joined The Clapham Group. So many of the skills and habits I learned at Redeemer have been remarkably applicable here at Clapham: “doubting my doubts,” allowing “the gospel to change everything,” and constantly seeking out a “third way.” I’ve enjoyed bringing my background in evangelism to our bridging work, helping clients like Walmart identify ways to counter polarization and the College Board build relationships with faith and homeschool communities.
Juliet on her last day at Redeemer
The person I was before I came to faith under Tim’s ministry was career-obsessed, fearful, and hyper-partisan. The person I became through knowing Jesus is grateful to have the chance to build bridges across ideological and theological lines and to do work that brings the “true, beautiful, and good” into the world.
To this day, I still love a good dance party. And I am still a registered Democrat. But above all else, I still belong to Jesus. I love him more now than I ever thought I did that day in 2007.
I know that Jesus would have made himself known to me whether or not I ever darkened the door of the Kaye Playhouse at Hunter College. I know that he would have changed my heart and my life regardless of whether Tim Keller was my pastor and preached to me every week. But I will always be eternally grateful that Jesus shepherded me into Tim’s pasture for that formative season.
