Two Years Go By So Quickly

Hard to imagine it was just 2years ago that we gathered in this spot to begin our time at Trinity.

Here it is. The end. Well, an ending of sorts. Pastors Colin, Rick and I have completed our 2 years in the Transition into Ministry program and now are headed our separate ways into various ministry ventures. There were times when the 2 years seemed to creep and crawl at a snail's pace, but these last few months especially have flown by!

Can't you just see how much we've grown to love each other?!

Since I began two years ago by sharing a bit about each of us on this blog, the boys nominated me to do it again. (They were just lazy and didn't want to do it themselves!)  But seriously, I know that all three of us would like to say THANK YOU to the congregation for a great first call. You have inspired us, befriended us, challenged us, and supported us. You showed us patience when we didn't always seem to know what we were doing, care when we were going through a tough time, and encouragement when we toyed with new ideas and tried new things. To each of our ministry teams-- again, thank you! To the staff-- we were so lucky to get to work with you; thank you for helping make us better pastors! To Pr Lew-- thanks for the humor, the good suggestions of where to eat, and your modeling of faithful and persistent pastoral care. To Pr John-- what can we say? You did a great job picking us! :)  But also, you did a great job leading, listening to, and laughing with us. It was an incredible experience working with you: thanks!  In case you haven't gotten the drift of this message: we are really thankful for everything and everyone! 

So, now you are probably wondering what is in store for all of us. Well, here's a little bit about each of our future plans: 

PASTOR COLIN~

Pastor Colin will be staying in the area with his wife Jeni, who is happily serving as pastor in Glyndon. At the time of this posting, he is awaiting the congregational vote at a nearby church, having already been recommended by Call Committee and Council. He is very excited at the prospect of this new ministry. In the meantime, he will be enjoying some much deserved and anticipated time at his family's lake place. Perhaps he'll even get some golf in.

PASTOR RICK~

Wisconsin beckons for Pastor Rick, Lindsay and Anya. They are moving to Madison, WI, where Lindsay will begin a PhD program in the fall. Pastor Rick's name is in at a couple of congregations there, and he is awaiting interviews with them in the month of August. They're excited to be moving to a place just blocks from the Capitol, in the heart of the city's action! Lots of good parks, coffee shops, and even a Walgreens nearby! As ever, Anya keeps them busy and on the go.

PASTOR ALEXIS~

This city girl is heading back home, to Milwaukee. I am currently awaiting a congregational vote after the Council and Call Committee recommended me for call at a little urban church in the northwest/central part of the city. The hope is that I will start by Sept 1. Until then I am on the go-go-go! Packing and moving here, then a Mission Developer's Training in Seattle, then vacation in upstate NY with my seminary best friends. I'm looking forward to being back in the land of good brats and beer, and my two adorable nephews! 

Again, for welcoming us as three of your own, and for giving us the chance to grow into the delightful and talented pastors you see before you today-- thank you!  Trinity will always hold a special place in our hearts!


In Christ's Love,
Pastors Colin, Rick, and Alexis

It's So Hard to Say GOODBYE

This is the sermon that Pr Alexis preached on Sunday May 20, 2012. On that day the congregation recognized graduating seniors, was the last day of Sunday School, and most importantly was Organist Peter Nygaard's final Sunday, after 27 years. There were lots of goodbyes... 

It had been a long day. I found myself back in my office, looking around at the empty walls, the faint smell of Lysol still lingering from yesterday’s thorough desk and table cleaning. Gone were the progress charts, stories, colored pictures, and helpful spelling hints from the walls. Gone were the little notes I’d posted around my desk, reminders of various tasks. Instead what was left was the pile of cards that many students had made me. And the poster that one second grade class made. And the tear stains on my shirt from the goodbye hugs I’d just gotten from several very upset kids who didn’t want to say goodbye.

It had been a long day. My last at Windlake Elementary, where I was now the most recent casualty in the public school budget cuts that unfortunately resulted in the termination of my position as Bilingual Instructional Support Aid, at a school that was primarily Spanish-speaking. It was hard for them to let go of one of only two fluent Spanish speakers on staff. But more than that, the goodbye was tough because over the semester—we had grown to care for each other. Both staff and students—they had all become so dear to me.

But now, I had to say goodbye. And it was so hard to say goodbye. What would happen to these kids? To Patricia, my little first grader who barely knew any English and who met with me once a day. To Evan, my tough fifth grader who was already starting to follow in his dad’s footsteps towards gang life. To sisters Ana and Veronica, who had spent most of the year homeless—couch surfing from home to home. To Mary, my colleague who I had grown close with as she navigated a nasty separation from her husband… What would happen to these beloved ones once I was gone? I worried about them, held on to my dreams and hopes for them.

It’s so hard to say goodbye.

I think Jesus understood a thing or two about the difficulty of saying goodbye. Here in the gospel, he sits with his disciples, his friends, on the night he’s about to be betrayed, before he will be executed. His heart is heavy. And in the few chapters previous to our gospel today, Jesus has been teaching his disciples, leaving them with final instructions and bits of wisdom. But in his last moments with them, heart heavy with worry and anxiety over what will become of his beloved ones, before heading to the Garden, he does the best thing he can for them… he PRAYS for them.

He knew his time with them was too short. That he had more he wanted to say or give. He worried about what would become of his students, his friends. Of James and John who so desperately wanted to be at his side, in places of honor. Of Peter who too often couldn’t see the whole picture. Of Thomas whose faith was strong but was full of questions. Of Judas who would be lost. What would become of these, whom he had grown to love and care for? True, God had entrusted these faithful servants to him over the last few years. And they had witnessed marvelous things! But, it was time. Jesus knew it. Time to leave them. Time to die.

It’s so hard to say goodbye.

You’ve been there, haven’t you? In that instant where you linger over those fleeting moments that quickly bring you to Goodbye? Filled with anxiety, sadness, heart-ache… unwilling to let go…

It is SO HARD to say goodbye.

Because goodbyes signal an end. An end of time together, an end to a job being worked, an end to a relationship… And when we’ve been so blessed, when we have had so much growth and so much hope being built together, as Jesus had had with his disciples and I had had with my staff and students at Windlake… when the hellos had been so good and fruitful… the goodbyes are always hard.

We are no stranger to goodbyes here. Today in the CLC at 11:10 we will honor graduating seniors, many of whom ready themselves to move out of the homes they’ve grown up in to move on to new jobs or college. It’s also the last day of Sunday School today, and our dozens of faithful teachers will say goodbye to the kids they’ve watched grow and learn all year. Then there are the goodbyes that will come in the next two months as the three of us TiM pastors prepare for new calls. And perhaps much more profoundly for us today, here, we ready ourselves to say goodbye to Peter, who has faithfully served this congregation for 27 ½ years by sharing his gift of music with us. As organist, he has touched so many through steady and thoughtful worship leadership on Sundays as well as at your weddings and funerals. Over the years, he has grown to be a dear and beloved figure in this worshiping community. And now it is time for Peter to retire.

It’s so hard to say goodbye.

But, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Something Jesus knew in those final moments before he was to be taken away from his friends… goodbyes don’t have to be THE END. Perhaps an end, yes, but THE END? No.    Not just because God had given them to each other, which God did. And not just because Jesus had loved, protected, guarded, and taught them for years, which he did. But Jesus knew that his goodbye wasn’t the end because his hopes and dreams for them lived on with him. He knew it wasn’t THE END because he held them in love and prayer.

Jesus prays that his disciples will continue to grow in love for each other and in fervent love towards God. He prays that they will be protected and united after he is gone. Especially as he tasks them with going on to do the work of the Church in his absence.

Because goodbyes don’t have to mean ‘gone from heart and mind forever.’  Just because we say goodbye, doesn’t mean a relationship loses its meaning or effect on us. Just because Jesus said goodbye to his disciples, doesn’t mean that their journey together had come to an end. His impact on their lives didn’t stop just because he was leaving. His goodbye wasn’t THE END.

Just because I said goodbye to the staff and students at Windlake doesn’t mean I still don’t think about the kids— where they are now, how they’ve grown. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t hoped the school has been spared more devastating budget cuts. It doesn’t mean that I don’t expect that the teachers have continued to educate with exemplary patience and grace. It doesn’t mean that they have forgotten me or the work I did with them. I left that place with love in my heart and prayers on my lips. And they stay there today. And so our goodbye was not THE END.

And just because we say goodbye today to Peter, along with the many other goodbyes we say in these coming days and months, doesn’t mean that our relationship together is done. Doesn’t mean that we are parted forever from each others’ thoughts. Holding each other in love and prayer, not just today but especially in the days to come, we trust that our goodbye is not THE END.

It IS so hard to say goodbye. 

But, we can take comfort in knowing that not only can our relationships live on in our memory, thoughts, and prayers through and after our goodbyes, but that in all of it—through our anxieties and fears and heartache, Jesus holds us in HIS prayers.

Today our Savior holds us in prayer. Whatever we need, whatever goodbyes are weighing on us today—it’s in God’s hands.

What prayers do you need today? What is getting in the way of your relationships, what goodbyes are heavy on your hearts? Whatever it is, be reminded that there is no goodbye so great, that it can separate us from the love of God. No goodbye so great that the distance can’t be covered by holding your beloved one’s fears and troubles, hopes and dreams in love and prayer, just as our risen and ascended Christ holds us in prayer.  Goodbyes may be hard, but they’re not THE END when our love and prayers live on.

Thanks be to God. AMEN. 

Church-- What It Really Looks Like

I got a glimpse of it recently.

CHURCH.

Not just because it was Pentecost Sunday. Not just because, well, hey-- I'm a pastor and work in a church building. But it was right there, where I least expected to see it, at:
                          Graduation Parties!


It's that time of year. Graduation. This year Trinity's graduating senior class is pretty big, and active. And so, the graduation invites came. I was happy to go, to see the homes of these seniors, to celebrate with them on this momentous time in their lives.


But, I didn't just see these 17 and 18 years olds, surrounded by memory books, lots of cake, tacos-in-a-bag, family, and friends... I saw... The Church. It happened, right there before my eyes.


What was it that I saw? Community. At each of the parties I attended, I expected to see family-- aunts, uncles, and grandmas-- helping host and serve. I even expected to see a couple of Trinity families who also have seniors. What I didn't expect, was how often I saw Trinity members helping their friends host these parties. I didn't expect to see them serving the bbq sandwiches, pouring the lemonade, and serving up the ice cream. I didn't expect that families who didn't have seniors (didn't even have teenagers, some of them!) would be there at these parties, but there they were alongside grandpa and Mr. Tandberg. I didn't expect to see so many underclassmen Trinity kids at these parties, but there they were playing boccee ball with the graduate's cousins. 


I saw what it looks like when the Body of Christ comes together in love to live joyfully with each other. "If one member is honored, all rejoice together with it." (1 Cor 12:26)  

It was... beautiful.  

I found myself feeling so proud to be a part of this community, to be a pastor to this community. Here were a group of people whose faith and commitment to each other were incredible signs of God's faithfulness and grace. 

It's a great day to be Church!

The Cross We Bear...

His name was Richard.

We first met a couple weeks ago.
He'd just been kicked out of one of the local shelters and made his way to Trinity.

I had been gone most of the morning, but he waited for me at the church. For hours. When I arrived, we talked about some options of other places he could go. I learned that he had burned bridges at one of the shelters big time. He could not return.

I quickly learned why...

Richard was surly. He was tired, and grouchy. He was loud and impatient. He also had some clear health problems and it was apparent he hadn't been able to take good care of himself or keep himself clean and healthy. In a word, Richard was a pain.

But, being a pain doesn't negate one's need of help. So, I gave him some numbers to call (other churches and agencies) and I made some calls on his behalf. I even found a lead for a place to stay for the night for him and gave him what help I could. He'd wanted more. I had no more to give. After he'd lingered at the church for several hours, I told him it was time for him to go. Which he did, reluctantly. Complaining about his mobility, about the bus system in town, and about how no one will help him in this city...

I wasn't sure if I'd see or hear back from him again. 


But I did.

Richard called back several days later from a motel that he was staying at. Some pastor from a local church had helped him secure a couple of nights. The day he left us, he'd ended up in the hospital for a day. Then one night on the floor at one of the shelters and he went searching for money for a motel so that he could get some good sleep. I couldn't blame him. Clearly with his physical and health conditions as they were-- it had to be hard to be on the streets and not be able to rest per doctor's orders.

So he called looking for some help, again. This time for food (he's diabetic and the only food at the continental breakfast at the hotel was sugary, unhealthy stuff) and for help getting his bags which were being stored at the shelter he was no longer allowed to return to. So, I made a couple calls and found a Trinity member who was willing to bring him his bags from the shelter to the motel. These bags had some personal care items and his insulin-- he was VERY grateful to have them back. He told me then that his county case worker had secured a place for him, and that he was hoping to get in the apartment come the end of the week. We were both happy to hear this news.

I didn't expect to hear from Richard again.


 But, I did...

Wednesday I got another call from Richard. He was in the hospital. Again. This time, he had collapsed at the [different] motel he was staying at. Nearly had a stroke the paramedics said. He was banged up pretty badly from the fall. He said everything had fallen apart. The apartment fell through (didn't pass the background check). His motel room was only paid up through Friday morning and then he'd have to be out of there, with no where to go. His mother who manages his social security and disability was refusing to send him any money. And to make matters worse, she never even checked in on him upon hearing that he was in the hospital.

Richard was even more angry. And loud. And bitter. He lashed out at me and at everyone. Some of the time (perhaps most of the times) I knew he didn't mean it. But, nevertheless, it was hard to take his calls, to listen to his rants, and to keep working on his behalf.

I told him that I didn't think I could get in to visit him, but that I would call him at the hospital the next day. But when I called yesterday, he had been discharged and was back at the motel. Back to angry Richard. He was panicked-- what was he going to do? He had to be out of the motel in one day. And had no resources, no options left.

Every idea I had, he shot down. He belittled my suggestions and questioned whether I really was helping him or not. Finally, I let him have it. I told him I was offended by his tone and by his ungrateful attitude. That I was doing everything I could but he wasn't making it any easier for me. Eventually I said I needed to go, but that I would make one last phone call for him. He wanted me to come up with the $250 he needed to stay an extra week in the motel. That wasn't going to happen. But, I knew there HAD to be some place that could help.

So I called a friend at one of the shelters, the shelter that had banned him. She listened as I explained how frustrated both Richard and I were. I told her that I was extremely concerned about his health, that if he didn't find time and space to calm down and rest, that he would have a stroke and would likely end up dead. There had to be a place for even surly, grouchy, angry, impatient, disabled homeless men like Richard. And my friend agreed, though she didn't know if they could let him back in. She agreed to talk with her staff and to get back to me in the morning.

Today, I arrived at church to about a dozen missed messages from Richard. My friend from the shelter had contacted him, but it didn't go well. He was not going to be able to return. He was again frantic. He had just a couple hours til he had to be out. Miles and miles away from any services and without any money. And, to be frank, with no hope and not a friend in the world.

When I called back, I could tell he was angry with me. I had failed him. He accused me and the church of not being Christian, because Christians help people in need. I told him we did help. Lots of churches helped. But that he needed to take responsibility too. I told him I had done all I could, that I had even wrangled a possible second chance with the shelter, but he wasted the opportunity. What was I to do?

What was he to do?

He was at a loss. And he felt let down. So he told me he'd never call again.

It's hard to do what I do some days. How do I reach out with compassion and kindness and generosity, while at the same time advocating for personal responsibility and respect for myself and for others? I know that I gave more time to Richard than anyone else I've seen in the last four months. Yet nothing was good enough.

Because the system is not going to work for a guy like Richard. All avenues were closed, if not permanently than at least for the time being. His anger and frustration are understandable, but they make encounters difficult. Hard to go out on a limb for someone who you don't really like or trust or believe is grateful. And yet, as those feelings welled up in me, I pushed myself to stay with him. I wouldn't be one of the many who abandoned him.

On this Good Friday, I am struck by the irony of this day. Good... what's good about today? Richard would tell you, not a darn thing! The cross, the messy, painful, dark cross... Where all our frustrations, abandonment, anger, selfishness, and fear dwell... today, this week, with Richard, I felt the disappointment of the cross. Of human shame, guilt, and inadequacy.

And today, I will sit with that. I will cling to the cross. Today, hope seems at a loss.

Richard knows that this is true.

But, I dare to believe in hope. I dare to trust that there can be resurrection-- new life and new chances. I pray it for Richard, as I pray it for us all. May the hope of the resurrection find us always in the darkness of the crosses we bear.

Good Decisions

Today was our annual 9th grade "6th Commandment Retreat" (otherwise known as the Sex Retreat)! I think it's one of the most important things we do with the youth-- helping them think through sexuality and how they make their decisions about when and in what context it's okay to have sex.

We looked at Scripture passages, watched video clips from tv shows and movies (Glee and Twilight), and listened to popular music ("Moves like Jagger" and "Just a Kiss") to see the many ways that media influences us when it comes to sex and relationships. We also did activities around what character traits are most important to us in a partner and around gender stereotypes. Most of the activities happened with just the youth, but some happened with their parents at the end. The event is always such a joy-- a blessed, awkward, clumsy, helpful joy...

But one of the things that has stayed with me today is something that guest presenter Becky Hulden said. Becky is a labor & delivery nurse, and she talked very candidly, patiently, and graciously about healthy sex and relationships. Among some of the more colorful things she discussed was the brilliant summation that:

"You can make good decisions, or you can make decisions good."

MAKE:
GOOD DECISIONS............
...........DECISIONS GOOD

She pointed out that most people assume the hardest and most important part of a decision is what happens before and as you make it. In the "making" of the good decision. But, too often we don't realize that what really counts is what we do once we've made the decision. We have lots of power and choice to take any decision we've made, and turn it into something positive or negative. So, even when we don't make a good decision, we can make that decision good in the end.

Such a helpful tool when it comes to relationships. We try to do the best we can to make the most informed choices and decisions we can. But ultimately, we will never make ALL good decisions. Ultimately we make mistakes. But, even so God is working in and through us to help transform us, to help make a way, to help find the joy and hope in any situation. So when we think we've messed up, we can trust that we can always find the good (because we can always find God) in any decision.

I Love You!

Coming in to work this morning, I saw the most beautiful thing. I saw that someone had made a snow angel in front of the steps leading up to our sanctuary. And they'd written in the snow: "I love you."

I love you.

If that wasn't the best evangelism campaign/ marketing slogan I'd ever seen for a church, I don't know what is!

From the voice of God the creator, and the choirs of angels, enter this place and you will hear a truth spoken so sweetly, that you are loved.

All work and no play...

We all know the saying: "All work and no play, makes Johnny a dull boy."

But, not to worry-- we definitely do not have that problem here at Trinity these days! There is lots of play mixed in to our work...

In particular, Pr Rick and I have become quite the partners in crime when it comes to play at work. We have taken to pulling pranks on some of our co-workers and each other. Good, clean fun-- don't worry!

And the thing is, we wouldn't be able to do this, if things at Trinity weren't

good. Solid. If the staff didn't like each other or get along. If there wasn't trust. But, with joy in the workplace comes room for laughter and play.

I think I'd characterize the environment around here lately as: playful, good-spirited, and fun!

In the midst of busy fall schedules, hectic personal lives, and staff transition as Senior Pastor Steve Wold retired, the staff has been able to really enjoy themselves. I have been able to really enjoy myself!

And for this, I am truly THANKFUL!

Luther's Catholic Feud

How much do you know about Martin Luther?
How about Trinity Lutheran Church or small group ministry?

We created this game as part of the reformation party, and it now available to play with your friends and family. The top 25 small group leaders were surveyed. The top answers are on the board. Click the numbers to reveal the answers, or click the boxes to produce a "X"!

Let's play Luther's Catholic Feud!

www.trinitymhd.org/Fued

God, is that you?!

It's been a couple weeks now that we've been reading "Surprise Me." And it has proven to be just as delightful as I'd expected. But, Terry Esau, after 2 weeks into his experiment described in the book the tough question he was dealing with... How do you know which events in your life are of God? Which surprises are God's?

He asked this because of his fear that readers would take his book and turn it into a Prayer of Jabez, prosperity-gospel. He worried that people would see a "trivial train of 'blessings'" and assume that each $5 bill found on the ground, close parking space at the store, and rebate on the big item purchase we were going to make is all a result of God's surprising favor for us.

Is God in the mundane, sure. But we can never be sure what exactly IS or ISN'T of God.

So, what do we do with that?! (It's not very helpful, Mr. Esau!)

He encourages us to trust. To trust that God is in our lives helping us to be the best we can be. Is God there to make our business or bank account flourish? No, but God promises to be there to help US flourish... Living with that kind of trust is hard, though. And it is usually only with hindsight that we truly see which actions and opportunities in our life (however mundane or monumental) were of God.

So, we were asked the question-- which seemingly insignificant moment or event at the time turned out to be life-changing? A part of God's big plan to make us flourish in life and love and joy... Well, as I think back, there are lots of those moments:

• When I was in kindergarten, my parents wanted to sign me up for a summer school "camp;" my choices were like cheerleading or Spanish, and for whatever reason I chose Spanish... that seemingly random decision led to a love of the language which I later studied from 6th-12th grade, brought me to Spain in my senior year, allowed me to take on leadership roles in several mission events in Mexico during college, enabled me to study abroad in Spain and Mexico, minored in Spanish, and helped me use the language during internship where I even got to preach in Spanish. All because of a 6 year old's foray into Spanish one summer!
• While on a youth trip in the mountains in Wyoming, I was partnered to be "tent buddies" with a girl from my grade. She and I weren't exactly friends. But, through the course of the trip, we ended up leaving as best friends and she is one of my closest friends to this day!
• One evening during high school I was driving home with my youngest brother (who was in 8th grade at the time), and we were talking about school, friends, and life. When we got home, we stayed in the car to finish the conversation. We were discussing his plans for high school and future. We didn't know it at the time, but it ended up being a very important conversation-- not only in terms of high school selection, but also for our relationship.

See, God really does use small, singularly "insignificant" moments to do incredible things! Which shouldn't surprise us since God also seems to use seemingly insignificant people to do them! :)

Surprises

During Lent, a group of ladies began meeting for a Small Group "Sampler." Short term commitment, long term impact.

Well, our one-off, short-term group, morphed into another "Summer Sampler." Seems there's something to this relationship, faith-building together thing! :)

We decided that we wanted to gather to talk about where we see God active in our lives. We all shared that life gets busy, and we are pulled in so many directions that it is sometimes difficult to see the surprises God sends our way. So, I offered a suggestion to journey through Terry Esau's Surprise Me, a 30 day faith experiment. In his book, he decided to begin every day for a month with the prayer: SURPRISE ME, GOD! And the book is his observations, ruminations, and reflections. We are going through this book, journaling on our own, and gathering weekly in Bible study and prayer around where we see God surprising us.

Now, I have to admit. I hadn't been as disciplined in the daily reading and journaling as I'd hoped to have been. I went for several days without reading at all. But I kept the words, "Surprise Me" as a refrain, humming along between my conscious and subconscious...

And this may come as no shock, but God was there. Beginning to look for God and paying attention to where God is prompting and guiding has been a blessing. And where have those surprises come? Terry Esau describes it plainly: "What I'm saying is, surprises seem to be largely a product of our contact with people and God." It comes as no real shock that this Incarnate God of ours chooses to surprise us with love, mercy, joyfulness, and hope in and through our relationships with others.

I can't wait to see what the next days will bring, for me and my fellow "Samplers"... how will God surprise us next?

Opportunities

When I talk with my friends who are in their first calls, they are often startled to learn about the many "perks" my position has. The TiM program at Trinity allows me lots of additional continuing ed, learning, and support opportunities. Many of my friends barely get continuing ed, much less have a strong peer group and intentional monies and resources devoted to pastoral development and personal growth.

As a part of the TiM program we have been able to travel to the churches of our first-call colleagues in EaND synod, share meals together, attend convocations, and most recently travel to Holden Village. There at Holden we had the chance to worship, pray, sing, learn, eat, and play in community. The opportunity was once-in-a-lifetime.

Purple Mountain Majesty

Holden. Heaven smiled upon this place.

Nestled here in the Cascade Mountains is a place so beautiful, not 1000 words nor even my picture can capture it. A place majestic, and yet humble at the same time.

Mountains towering above me. Soil and rock tinged with copper. Stately pines climbing a hundred feet in the air, reaching towards the bright blue sky. Happy, bubbling water rushing to find a home in the lake below.

I'm so glad we've made it!

A fawn has just approached from behind. Trepidation in its gentle footsteps. Nibbling on the tall grasses. She looks up and sees me perched at the waters edge. She looks me in the eye. I try to convey that I am here in peace. She isn't scared off and continues to graze. Such elegance.

I'm so glad we've made it!

Holden.
Heaven smiled upon this place.

Water, Water, Everywhere...

I had never taken the train any long distance in my recorded memory. Making plans, I was excited about the adventure of a long train ride into the mountains. But, as our departure day neared, I became a little nervous. Because of flooding in western North Dakota, the train lines were shut down for the 3 weeks before our departure date. Will we be able to go? Will the trains be up and running by the time we need to leave?

Funny how I wasn't thinking too much about the people and towns actually being affected by the flooding. Nope, just about whether our travel plans would be secure...

Then we got the news that the tracks were open and that the trains were running again. We were on the first train heading west from Fargo. As the trip began, I was shocked by what I saw: water, water, everywhere... Church's Ferry, Devil's Lake... swallowed in water. And the farther west we went, the worse it got.

At times, all we could see in any direction was water. It was like the train was gliding on the water. In some places the tracks had been raised up from the water, and in others, dikes had been built up to protect the tracks. But there were moments when I looked down out the window, and I couldn't see anything but the water. The watery tracks plus the heavy train traffic (after it'd been shut down so long) caused us extensive delays. We lost a day because of it.

Days later, as we were readying ourselves to come back home, eastbound, we got the news that again the tracks were shut down. The levee in Minot was breached. Half the town was evacuated. Waters were over-taking much of the city and neighboring towns. Our first thoughts, though, were not: "Poor Minot; what will they do?" Instead they were, "How are we going to get home? What are we going to do?" The trains would only take us part-way through Montana, then what would we do?

Finally it hit me-- it really isn't that big of a mess. Not for us. Yes, an inconvenience. But, it could've been worse. Much worse. We could be in Minot. Our homes, schools, churches, parks, libraries, favorite restaurants... all in danger of being washed away in a tide of muddy waters.

Our drive home through eastern Montana and North Dakota was punctured by news stories from Minot and vistas of standing water all around. Water, water, everywhere...

I pray that in these devastating waters, peace can be found. That the waters of life and opportunity flow in and through these towns and peoples...

Fire, Smoke, and Celebration

This morning I woke up to the scent of woodfire smoke on my pillow. The lingering scent of the bonfire which began our Easter Vigil last night... And it struck me that that was the perfect way to wake up on Easter morning! There, with the scent of the fire still in my nostrils, on my hair, in my clothes, there to remind me of the celebration that had already begun.

Our Vigil worship began as most do, gathered around a fire as we christened a new Paschal Candle for the year whereon we processed into worship, following the light in the darkness, to hear stories of our faith, welcome the newly baptized while remembering our own baptisms, and celebrate a grace-filled meal around the altar. Rejoicing that the pain, darkness, chaos, bondage, and death we experience is defeated by the promise of healing, light, order, freedom and life of the resurrection!

HE IS RISEN!

HE IS RISEN, INDEED!!

ALLELUIA!!!

Your own child....

Preaching on the Sunday that your own child is baptized creates an interesting dynamic. I didn't think it would affect me the way it did, I had seen baptisms, performed baptisms, but making promises for your own child is a new experience. I had many emotions going into the service, and felt the best way to offer the sermon was in the form of a letter.

To the child I love:

On an occasion like today, when we gather together with a loving community of faith, and family and friends, those who live close and those who traveled a great distance, there is no better way to tell you how I feel, than in a message from my heart to yours. I loved you before you were born and my heart swells with pride everyday that we spend together.

I must admit that I know you won’t remember this day as you continue to grow older. You won’t remember the people sitting next to you. You won’t remember the baptismal celebration. You definitely won’t remember the sermon. But that doesn’t make today any less special. It is special because at this moment, you are surrounded by the grace and love, hope and promise of God’s presence. The presence I pray you always turn to in times of joy and sorrow. It is that presence that never leaves you or me.

In looking at your baptism, I acknowledge it is a strange way to show the world that you are claimed and anointed by God and a member of God’s family. You are drowned in water, cleansed from sin, and given an invisible sign of the cross on your forehead. Promises are made for you to be raised in the faith and taught the traditions and confess the creeds. You are encouraged to worship regularly, because even though your baptism makes you a new creation, you are captive to sin and cannot free yourself, and need to be reminded regularly of God’s forgiveness and grace in your life. You will make mistakes, you will fall down, but God has given you people like me to always walk with you, and to pick you up, to love you, to support you, and to encourage you. Baptism is a strange way to be connected to this family, I apologize that it is hard to understand, but it is a precious gift that I hope you will cherish as you grow in faith.

As I experienced the healing of the man born blind in John’s gospel, I want to show and tell you how this story has a profound connection to your life and baptism story. The man, who spends his days sitting alongside the road begging, doesn’t even ask for healing. He doesn’t utter one word, but still God chooses him to receive the miracle gift of sight. With a little holy spit to make mud, a tender touch, and a washing in the Pool of Siloam, the blind man is no longer blind. His life is now changed from this day forth. He will not return to his life of blindness, and doesn’t want to anyway.

Your baptism, dear child, is not your choice. Sorry, you don’t have any say in it. It’s not your pastor’s choice. It’s not Mom’s choice. It’s not Dad’s choice. Even if you are old enough to speak, and say you want to be baptized, this decision is out of your hands. Baptism is a gift given to you by God. You are chosen by God for healing, forgiveness, and redemption, without having to ask. God takes the holy waters of creation and with the Word, makes a sacrament of celebration. And in the baptismal waters, you are changed, you are transformed, from this day forth. You cannot return to your life before baptism, and I promise, along with your family of faith, that we will uphold you in this new life.

Even though the blind man doesn’t ask, his sight is transformed. He can see! He can give witness to the living God who stands in front of him. He proclaims the good news that God has given him his sight. He could boast in himself, his parents, or even the religious leaders. But this man boasts in God, and gives God the glory and the credit for this miracle. His neighbors can’t believe this is the same man, showing surprise and skepticism. The Pharisees question the legitimacy of this healing and investigate to confirm his story. His parents mistakenly kept quiet about his transformation for fear of being thrown out of the community. Through all of his trials, he continues to understand more about who healed him, and proclaim God’s presence in his life.

Precious little one, because you are graciously chosen first by God in your baptism, you have the duty and the joy to respond to God’s gift with praise and thanksgiving. You now can boast in God, and not in yourself, because it is God who shows you daily that your life is because of him. You will learn to love and forgive, and you will be loved and forgiven. You will treat your neighbors the way that God expects, including your neighbors that you don’t really like. You will seek justice and peace in this world, even when the world is surprised and skeptical at your actions.

Living out your baptismal promise will cause some to question you and investigate if your story is true. You will face trials that pull you from God, disasters that cannot be explained. Sickness that takes the life of a family member. Bullies that crush your self-worth. Job loss. Floods that threatened to destroy your home. People who hate and despise you. Mom and Dad who will set strict boundaries, who will make tough decisions that you don’t like, who will make mistakes in parenting, and who need your patience.

Martin Luther once said that parents are more important than bishops and pastors, because they have the majority of the time each week to teach faith to children. That is pretty big responsibility that you can help Mom and Dad with.

But through all of the trials you will face, through all of the mistakes you will make, all of the time others are at fault, remember that God has never left you. God sticks with you, makes you holy, washes the mud from your eyes, so that you can see the world more clearly. Only two verses from John’s story are about healing…the rest is the man being sent to live out his healing - showing his friends, family, and fellow beggars God’s good news. Displaying God’s work in his life. Your baptism is only a tiny fraction of your life, a fleeting moment, but living out your baptismal call, who and whose you are as God’s child, is what you are sent to do. Showing others God’s good news in your life of faith. Return to the promises of your baptism whenever you need the mud washed away.

I probably need to end this letter, because I have a habit of talking a bit too much. But I want you to know how much joy you bring me. Hold me in your heart, as you are held in mine. Little child, I am the light in your life, the light of the world. Do you believe in the Son of Man? You have now seen him… in fact he is the one speaking with you.

Yours truly,

Jesus

No, really... I LOVE you!

This is an excerpt from a sermon I gave this morning on John 3:16-17. It was inspired by watching the news and seeing so much hurt and pain in the world, and knowing that there are many out there who wonder just how much God loves them, and whether God's love extends beyond the boundaries we would set up for it.

So here we are. With a Bible verse, John 3:16, which we’ve known longer than probably any other Bible verse… “For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son so that whoever believes in him will not perish, but have eternal life.” I mean, really? The whole world? Even those who don’t believe? Does God really love the whole world? That’s really where John 3:16 takes us, isn’t it? Just who does God really love?

If you have wrestled with this one, little verse, then you are in good company with people from all over the world, throughout all of Christian history. And in trying to parse out the verse, it has been the root cause of much division, abuse and harm. First of all, John 3:16 has been used as a weapon, all for the sake of ‘bringing people to believe.’ Seeing threats to believing in Jesus and therefore to eternal life and salvation everywhere, Christians engaged in the crusades, the Inquisition and witch trials, colonization with missionary underpinnings, and the Holocaust. All in the name of saving souls. Does God really love the whole world?

Not just that, though, but pervasive use of John 3:16 in modern Christianity has led to individualism and lessening concern for the suffering of this world. Reading John 3:16 closely has led to an excessive focus on individual salvation— am I saved? Do I know Jesus as my Lord and Savior? The role and place of the community, the common good, is always secondary, even incidental to a focus on the individual. (Tim Johnson) And also, if the over riding goal is to keep people from perishing in the life to come, then the problem of their perishing in this life due to lack of food or health care or a deteriorating environment seems unimportant. (Tim Johnson) Does God really love the whole world?

And that’s when I hope we hear the Good News in this frequently quoted verse: “For God so loved the world that He gave his only begotten Son so that whoever believes in him will not perish, but have eternal life.”… “God so loved the world…” Do you hear it? This isn’t a weapon, it’s a healing salve. It isn’t about individual salvation, it’s about the redemption of all of creation! We don’t ignore the suffering of this world to look only to the glory to come in the next, because God sent God’s only Son to THIS world, to save THIS world, because God loved THIS world. Here. Now. God SO loved the world! How much? So much? So much that God sent God’s Son to die. And, sent God’s Son to die for a world that didn’t know, understand, or even love Him. In fact, God sent his Son to die for a God-hating world, according to Professor David Lose.

We can’t always accept this truth. That God loves the world and everyone and everything in it. We need there to be conditions, because conditions give us the sense of control or order, even fairness. Does God really love the world ??

We bargain…
But, what about me, all the times I missed church, forgot to leave an offering, or ignored the homeless person on the street?
And God says, “No, really… I love you!”

But, what about your brother’s Jewish friend Joshua?
No, really… I love him.

But, what about Lindsay Lohan and Charlie Sheen, ever caught in self-destructive cycles of addiction?
No, really… I love her, and I love him.

But, what about Fred Phelps, the hate-mongering anti-gay pastor from Westboro Baptist who protests churches, plays, and military funerals?
“No, really… I even love him, too.” God says.

But, what about the peoples of Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain, and Libya, and the oppressive governments they’re rebelling against?
No, really… I love them.

But, what about the director of FEMA after Katrina, or the CEO of BP after the Gulf Oil Spill, or the engineers at the nuclear power plant in Japan, the ruin of your beautiful earth?
No, really… I love them, too.

But, but… “No.” God stops us. “I really love you. All of you.”

Some days...

... not every day, but some days I really LOVE my job!!

I had one of those days yesterday. In some ways, it was an ordinary Sunday. But maybe that's why it was so great.

The day began with a nice worship service. Transfiguration... usually it's not one of my favs, because let's be honest-- it's a little weird. Mountain top visions of dead guys, faces shining, mystery... But you know, Colin preached an excellent sermon. About looking for glimpses of God, about finding holy instants in the midst of our daily life. It was also First Communion Sunday for our 5th graders, and about 40 kids came up to the altar with handmade ceramic chalices to get a glimpse of God in a holy meal. Pretty cool.

Then, after worship I had a final planning meeting for a big Global Hunger Meal we're hosting on Ash Wednesday. It's a big undertaking, and there were moments when I was nervous about

everything coming together just right, but with everyone's great ideas coming together the last two weeks, I am confident it's going to be a terrific event. I am really looking forward to it.

After that, I headed over to the high school for the middle school production of "Once Upon a Mattress." One of our youth, an 8th grader, was telling me about the show a few weeks ago, and asked me to come. So of course I had to! In fact, there were about a dozen church youth in the show. And let me tell you-- it was AMAAAAZING! I've never seen such an incredible middle school production. I enjoyed watching our kids, and afterwards I gave lots of hugs and hi-fives to kids and parents. So cool. As I was leaving, I walked out with our Youth Ministry Director, and I said to her, "It's so awesome that this is our job!" Without missing a beat, she replied, "I know!"

Such a satisfying, lovely day at work. What a blessing...

The Hands of God

In worship on Sunday, I felt the hands of God...

I did a double baptism, of a little boy and a little girl. As I held each of their heads over the font and used my hand to cup the water, I had this feeling that my hands weren't my own. The ELCA's missional slogan is "God's work, our hands." But, sometimes I think it's the other way around-- it's Our Work, God's Hands. That's what I felt on Sunday. I was doing the baptismal rite. I was pouring water over these children's heads, but the hands holding these children were not mine. God's hands were holding them, comforting them with the strength and gentleness of God's loving presence.

After the baptism, it is usual for us to walk the babies around the congregation, to introduce them to their new family in Christ. I took the little girl who was happy in my arms. And when I brought her back to hand off to her father, she clung to me with her tiny little fists. The hands of God, there, wrapped around my shoulder. Something about our time together around the font made her feel comfortable in my arms, such that she held me close with her hands. And I didn't want to let her go, to let go of that feeling.

God's hands, holding our own... What a gift!

The Longest Night

On December 21st, the longest night of the year, about 60 people gathered to remember those for whom the holidays aren't happy times, those who truly experience long, painful nights during the winter. December 21st is Homeless Memorial Day, and the Fargo-Moorhead Coalition for Homeless Persons organized a candlelight vigil to remember those homeless persons who died in our community over the last year.

A pair of boots was laid in the snow for each person who'd died in the streets, each with a tag inscribed with a name and age placed inside. There were 37 pairs of boots laid out that night.

The vigil was attended by shelter workers, faith leaders, concerned people in the community, and homeless persons. One of our small groups, the Man Cave, was there for their volunteer service project. They tended to the fires spread out around the lawn between the Fargo Civic Center and Library. I was glad to be there with them, in the freezing cold, as we listened to friends of the deceased share memories and reflections, and as we were led in prayer by various faith leaders of many traditions.

Sometimes it's easy to forget that the Christmas season isn't a joyous one for everyone. That many people are grieving the loss of loved ones, worrying over lost jobs, experiencing abuse, and sleeping on the streets... And yet, these are those for whom Christmas matters most. Christ, Emmanuel, "God with us" comes to and for those who need God most. And in that, we can be thankful!

A Christmas Story...

This morning our receptionist shared with me an encounter she'd had on Friday.

It was 5:15pm Friday when she saw her. Ambling down the hallway, the receptionist looked at the clock and thought, "Gee, I wonder how long this is going to take... I wanna get out of here!" As the middle-aged woman came in, she was running through the list of things the woman might be asking for.

But, then the woman began to speak. In fact, she didn't ask for anything at all.

She said she'd been reading lately that it's important to give back to God 10% of what you've been given.

And then the woman began to take out her pack of cigarettes. The receptionist thought to herself, "Oh, now what? Is she going to try to smoke in here? Give me a cigarette?" But instead, the woman pulled out a $100 bill.

This was the 10% she wanted to give to the church.

The receptionist asked if she were a member, and when the woman replied "no," the receptionist quick on the beat asked, "do you want to be?" They laughed.

The $100 was from her monthly social security check. And the woman wanted no recognition for it. No tax form. No name.

And then she left... Gone, but not forgotten... because this woman's simple and humble gift is what Christmas is all about.

Her story reminds me of the woman Jesus points out to the disciples in the Temple-- the widow who gives her only two coins...

Mark 12:41-44
41 Now Jesus sat opposite the treasury and saw how the people put money into the treasury. And many who were rich put in much. 42 Then one poor widow came and threw in two mites,[a] which make a quadrans. 43 So He called His disciples to Himself and said to them, “Assuredly, I say to you that this poor widow has put in more than all those who have given to the treasury; 44 for they all put in out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all that she had, her whole livelihood.”

To give so much when one has so little. And for no other reason than because she is thankful and because she knows it is the right thing to do. With no gain for herself, no reward... Selfless, joyful giving... that really is the true spirit of Christmas! And when I'm hassled trying to buy gifts for my friends and family, and when I wonder about whether or not I can afford to make end-0f-year gifts to the charities and organizations I support, I will remember this woman and her true Christmas spirit!