More occasional randomness

Here's what's up:

I'm editing the post to add this fascinating tidbit: my mileage total for September was 1,508. Of that, 827 miles were for internship-related travel, the other 681 was personal (mostly those four trips to St. Paul and back). Thankfully, the driving wasn't nearly as unpleasant as I had feared, though that will surely change come January.

It feels like spring and the bugs seem to agree. The box elder bugs are out of control, though they stay mostly outside. The ladybugs (or Asian beetles or whatever they are) have moved in. I am walking the line between constant and merciless crushing or just cohabiting. If they choose their location within the apartment wisely, they escape my wrath. The creepy wormy things do not. There is no escape for them.

I have a cold and I'm not happy about it. It's been about a week and a half now and it's gradually improving but it won't just go away. That's what I get for my ongoing struggles with self-care.

Last night at confirmation, my eighth-graders actually remembered a lot of what we had talked about last week! I was shocked and ecstatic. It's gratifying to know that some kernels of knowledge are sinking in even though they never stop talking and rarely appear to be paying much attention. They are a great group, though, with really good questions. Last night they came up with arguments for and against flags in the sanctuary (all on their own, prompted only by the presence of the flags). And they twisted their brains into knots trying to figure out the Trinity, also all on their own.

My friend Jennifer is beginning her journey to Liberia even as I write this. I will really miss having her around for daily check-in calls, but of course I'm delighted that she will finally get to spend time in person with the man she would have married in August had his visa been approved.

Now I have to get back to sermonizing because tomorrow I head to Underwood, Minnesota, to visit my friends Phil and Rachel. And, of course, Klaus! Our other friends, Ben and Stephanie, are planning to come too, so it's sure to be a good time!

On singing in worship

Earlier this week, I read a post on Stuff Christians Like that I've been pondering ever since. It was titled, "Getting abandoned by the worship leader."

Stuff Christians Like is written from a distinctly evangelical perspective, so the phenomena the author describes are often only tangentially related to my own experiences. I like reading it because it's usually quite funny, and because it proclaims God's love for us (like today's post). It's also interesting to hear about a concept and experience of church that is different from my own in many ways, but very widespread.

Somehow, with this post, the gap between our perspectives seemed wider than usual. The post was about the awkwardness of the worship leader stepping back from the microphone during a song, so that his or her voice is no longer leading the assembly's singing.

A couple things struck me about this:

• The post was written with the assumption of a praise band and worship leader. This seems to be the standard form of worship for the author of Stuff Christians Like, as well as for the readers (based on the comments I read).
• The very reason the writer (and commenters) find it awkward for the worship leader to stop leading is this: "suddenly I can hear myself and my horrible, horrible voice. And so can everyone else, and we stop singing. We get all quiet and awkward until the leader returns from his or her mic vacation and saves us."

When I read that sentence, I realized that it summed up one of the primary reasons I don't usually like worship that involves praise bands with electric instruments and amplification and so on: because I can't hear myself or my neighbors sing.

My experiences with this type of worship is that it makes no difference at all whether or not I add my voice to the song. It makes no difference whether or not anyone in the congregation adds their voice to the song, because the only voices any of us will ever hear are those of the mic-wielding leaders.

I get so many negative messages from that experience. It tells me only "good" singers are worthy of being heard. It walks a fine line between worship and performance. It reduces the assembly of worshipers to passive and irrelevant spectators.

Music is a tool of proclamation. Congregational singing is one of the tools that allows the entire assembly to proclaim God's word together, rather than putting that word in the mouths of only a few (the pastor, designated readers, choir, or band, for example).

Quite regularly at my teaching congregation (and occasionally in chapel at Luther Seminary) the organist or pianist would stop playing so that the assembly could sing one or more verses of a hymn acapella. It never failed to thrill me!

Hearing real, unamplified, unobscured, imperfect-but-beautiful human voices (including my own) joined together in harmony to praise God and proclaim God's promises is a powerful experience of the body of Christ. For me, it's one of the greatest delights of worship.

I understand that not all congregations are musically talented enough to sing in acapella harmony and sound good. The proclamation can be just as effective with accompaniment and in unison. Either way, each person's participation matters, and each person's voice is pleasing to God.

I'm not one to push any particular style of worship as required or superior. I enjoy a wide variety of music, and I'm glad different styles exist to help different people better hear the gospel. Besides, any style of worship has the potential to send negative messages (traditional church choirs can be just as performance-like as praise bands, for example).

It's just fascinating to me that the same experience (the assembly's voices being heard in worship) can be an essential part of worship for me, yet scary and undesirable to many others. And I think we all have to consider carefully the various layers of meaning conveyed by our worship and music choices.

Sunday at Dale and Holden

This was the first Sunday I worshiped at two churches instead of just one, and the next three Sundays will also involve two congregations.

This week I preached at Dale Lutheran Church and Holden Lutheran Church, a yoked parish served by Pastor Rell Spickerman. Pastor Rell has been on vacation throughout September, so I've had limited opportunity to work with him thus far. He was in worship this morning at Dale, but the services were led by the supply pastor, Rev. Paul Reppe, who has been a faithful go-to resource for congregations throughout this area since his retirement in the early 1990s.

Here's a look inside both buildings, which are as beautiful as the rest of my churches!


Dale (pronounced "doll-uh") sanctuary. So far, I've only covered the basics in all these photo posts, but each of these churches has its own fun quirks that really give the buildings their unique character. Hopefully I can share some pictures of those eventually as well, because Dale is where I most noticed those details so far.




Closer view of Dale chancel.




View of Dale sanctuary from the front.




One of Dale's windows. They have traditional windows like these in the worship space, and more contemporary stained glass in the narthex.




Holden sanctuary. They call this place "the cathedral in a cornfield." I hope next time I'm back here I can get a better picture of the building in its setting. It really does seem to just rise out of the middle of a field. This is quite a historic church. It was one of the first Norwegian Lutheran churches in Minnesota, and was associated with the founding of St. Olaf College.




Closer view of Holden chancel.




View of Holden sanctuary from the front.




One of Holden's windows.




This coming Sunday, I'm on my own at Gol and Hegre, whose pastors are both on vacation. I hope I don't have any disaster stories to tell!

September 26 sermon

Text: Luke 16:19-31
Preached September 26 at Dale and Holden Lutheran Churches in rural Kenyon, MN


Grace and peace to you from God, the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Alas for those who are at ease…and for those who feel secure….Alas for those who lounge on their couches, and eat lambs from the flock,..and anoint themselves with the finest oils, but are not grieved over the ruin of Joseph,” says the prophet Amos in our first reading.

“Joseph” refers to the people of Israel, the many who were suffering while the few relaxed in luxury. Amos paints a picture of injustice, of an imbalance of power and resources, of a lack of concern for the vulnerable.

Amos shows us that God’s people have lost sight of the ways of God. Their vision of God’s kingdom has become distorted.

In our gospel reading, Jesus tells a story of “a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day.” He’s really piling on the details here—purple dye, fine linen, and lavish feasts were all expensive. It would be like saying the rich man wore designer clothes, traveled by private jet, and ate at five-star restaurants. Jesus is really driving home the point that this man was more than comfortable.

By contrast, “at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores.” Again, we have a detailed portrayal—Jesus makes sure we understand that Lazarus is desperately poor and hungry, and so sick and weak that he cannot even shoo away the dogs that pester him. And he is right on the rich man’s doorstep.

Later, both men die. Lazarus is taken to be with Abraham, and the rich man is doomed to torment. And even then, the rich man still doesn’t get it. He asks Abraham to send Lazarus to ease his suffering, or to warn his brothers.

The rich man calls Lazarus by name, so it’s clear that he was aware of Lazarus’s presence during his lifetime. But he sees Lazarus as a nuisance to be ignored or a servant to be commanded. He fails to see Lazarus as a fellow child of God.

The rich man has lost sight of the ways of God. His vision of God’s kingdom has become distorted.

I read a post recently on one of my favorite blogs (Dirty Sexy Ministry). The writer is an Episcopal priest, and she described her experience of injustice in taking her foster daughter to a free clinic. Let me share a little of it with you:

I arrived early at the clinic. The waiting room was dirty and almost empty. I gave my information to an angry receptionist and began the process of filling out forms. Then we waited. I looked at the doctors lined up on the other side of the reception window, reading charts and chatting.

Meanwhile we waited. Two other women with sick children entered the waiting room. They waited too. Two hours later, the nurse called us into the examining room. On the floor, there were old band-aids and cotton balls. We continued to wait another hour. The doctor came in and looked at my child.

They did not have her records from the hospital….I was furious, but…if I said anything, I could guarantee they would give me the old heave ho, but where would my daughter go?

I cannot yet take her to the doctor of my choice. She is still in foster care with me. I did not want to make trouble so I closed my mouth. As I walked out, the same two women sat in the waiting room with their sick children….I overheard someone on the street say: “What is that woman doing going to the free clinic? Is she on welfare? She could get a job.”

This is the other side of privilege. This is what it is like with limited options, to be treated as less than, to wait because you cannot do anything else. I never really had to wait like that before. At the clinic, they looked at those waiting with disdain and disgust, like they thought this is what we deserved. I cried that my daughter was treated that way. I thank God that she is a baby and unaware of what happened.

This experience is certainly not unique. In our society, the poor consistently receive inferior health care, education, and legal representation. In our society, we routinely throw away food while children elsewhere die of starvation and malnutrition. In our society, people can work hard for 40 years only to see their jobs or their pensions disappear.

We have lost sight of the ways of God. Our vision of God’s kingdom has become distorted.

So if these views of God’s kingdom are distorted and unhealthy, what does an accurate view of the kingdom look like?

When the rich man asks Abraham to send Lazarus to warn the rich man’s brothers of the fate that awaits them, Abraham tells the rich man that his brothers “have Moses and the prophets” to guide their lives. In other words, God’s word provides us with an accurate vision of God’s kingdom. So what does God’s word tell us?

Jesus tells us in three different gospels that the greatest commandments are these: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength, and you shall love your neighbor as yourself” (Mark 12, Matthew 22, Luke 10).

Jesus even explains to us in the parable of the good Samaritan what this love of neighbor looks like (Luke 10). The Samaritan who saw his neighbor’s pain, had compassion on him, and attended to his needs is the one who showed love and acted in accordance with the ways of God.

In God’s kingdom, we care for one another.

The Old Testament is full of laws protecting the most vulnerable members of society, especially widows, orphans, and aliens, and in Matthew 25, Jesus also lifts up the lowly as being worthy of special concern. He says anytime we offer food, drink, hospitality, clothing, and companionship to “the least of these,” we are doing those things for Jesus himself.

In God’s kingdom, the poor and vulnerable are worthy of special concern.

The Magnificat comes early in Luke’s gospel. In this song, Mary sings about the mighty being humbled and the lowly lifted up. This reversal is reflected again in today’s story, where the rich man and the poor man exchange positions after their deaths.

Jesus’ audience would have assumed that the rich man’s wealth was a sign of God’s favor and blessing, and that the poor man must be sinful somehow in order to suffer so greatly. This story, and many others, reverses those assumptions.

In God’s kingdom, the world’s expectations are turned upside-down.

Loving God means loving our neighbors. If we love our wealth and comfort and privilege more than we love our neighbors, then we have lost sight of God’s kingdom. If we aren’t careful, wealth can insulate us from the needs of those around us.

The author of that blog post—the priest who took her daughter to the free clinic—says it this way: “When you usually sit on one side of privilege, you do not really know how the other side lives. You might care, but you can be easily distracted from the struggle for justice when you are comfortable” (Dirty Sexy Ministry).

This distraction is dangerous. When we lose sight of God’s kingdom, not only are we blinded to others’ needs, but we are also blinded to our own great need for God.

The powerful of Israel thought they were self-sufficient. They paid lip service to God, but didn’t consider themselves truly dependent. They learned how wrong they were when the Assyrians and Babylonians conquered their two kingdoms.

As I mentioned before, the rich man probably considered himself blessed and favored by God simply by virtue of his wealth. He learned how wrong he was as he suffered torment after his death.

When we become comfortable and complacent, we may start to feel self-reliant. When our lives are going well, it is all to easy to forget that “we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves.” We stand always in need of God’s forgiveness and mercy, and the distraction of comfort can obscure that reality.

We receive a healthy and accurate vision of God’s kingdom not only in God’s word, but also at God’s table, where it is enacted in our very midst. Every time we gather here for Holy Communion, Jesus shows us what the kingdom of God is really like.

At this table, all are present, and there are no barriers between us. At this table, there are no gates or chasms between rich and poor, between privileged and oppressed, between mighty and lowly. At this table, we are all united, and we share one another’s burdens and blessings.

So how do we move toward living out this healthy and accurate view of the kingdom?

First, we claim the good news is that change is possible. In Christ, God offers us the forgiveness and mercy we so desperately need. No matter how often our view of God’s kingdom becomes distorted, God always clears our vision and leads us back to faithfulness.

Second, we hear God’s word often and come regularly to God’s table, where we participate in this vision of the kingdom that Jesus provides. At this table, we who feast sumptuously are united with those who are hungry. This banquet demonstrates for us, and for our whole hurting world, how things are different in God’s kingdom.

Finally, we trust God to reveal his kingdom where we least expect it. I invite you to start seeing the Lazaruses in your life. Ask people about their experiences and listen to their stories. Listen for the needs these stories reveal, and consider how you might act in compassion.

In this place, God forgives us for our failings, sets us free from our old ways, and provides us with a healthy vision of his kingdom. From here, we are sent into the world to “go in peace and serve the Lord,” and we do that by serving those in need. The Holy Spirit empowers us for that service, and it is our joyful response to God’s gift of forgiveness and freedom. Thanks be to God! Amen.

Weekly beauty: Early fall landscape

This week, I have really been enjoying the beauty of my surroundings. Now that I'm slightly more organized and on top of things (most of the time), I haven't been running late quite as consistently. That means I can drive a reasonable speed and even slow down to take a few pictures.

The landscape is beautiful right now (though in the last couple days parts of it have become unfortunately waterlogged). I love the way the scenery changes week to week. The trees are just about to explode with color, the harvest is beginning, and the moon was stunning on Tuesday.














I made two trips to St. Paul this week, so I am especially appreciative of the rural scenery when contrasted with this:





The city has lots of charms, but traffic isn't one of them. I'd rather get stuck behind a tractor with wide-open fields to admire any day.

Hegre Ham Dinner

Tonight was the official kick-off of my Annual Church Event Season. At least six of my churches have fall events of some sort, and I will attend and/or work at each of them if my schedule allows (I think I only have one conflict so far).

Each event has its own unique charm and character, of course, and the Hegre Ham and Meatball Dinner was a great way to jump-start these festivities! They served around 300 people, despite the pouring rain, and it all ran like a well-oiled machine, as far as I could tell.

It's a lot of cooking, serving, eating, and cleaning up in a rather small space, so huge kudos to everyone who made the event such a success!





The menu was amazing: meatballs, ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, cranberry sauce, coleslaw, homemade pickles, and a dizzying array of pies. There was certainly no excuse to go away hungry!





These inter-church events are really fun for me. I get to see people from my various congregations come together, and they get to laugh about never knowing where I'll turn up!

Meanwhile, three hours on my feet really put my shoes to the test! I thought I had chosen wisely with comfort in mind, but I will have to find a plan B before the Vang Lutefisk Dinner. Another lesson learned.

Awesome pastors

Just to share my excitement...a quick inventory of fun facts about the pastors I get to work with this year. I haven't even spent much time with some of them yet, so there's much more to learn.

And this doesn't even take into account all the other fabulous and fascinating pastors in the area with whom I attend text studies, conference meetings, and other such events. I'm one lucky intern!

Among my seven pastors...

• one started his ministry as a Catholic priest
• one has a passion for social justice and for the church's witness in society
• one has a deep love for the liturgy and its power to communicate something about God and our relationship with God
• one has published a book of devotions and has another book coming out soon
  
• one has fascinating ideas that sound like what you might hear from an "emerging church" leader, even though he's certainly not your stereotypical 20-something hipster
• one is a nurse
  
• one used to do congregational and individual mediation
• one is an avid golfer
• one keeps goats and other such animals
  
• one is a fabulous chef
• one is originally from Norway
• at least two or three of them can polka like pros
• they all have great affection and respect for the people they serve

Sunday at Trinity

This week I was at Trinity Lutheran Church in West Concord to preside at worship. Pastor Chris Brekke and the crew at Trinity are quite the fun bunch of people, with a collective sense of humor that can't be beat. Here's a look at the building....

Chancel. The black sculpture next to the pulpit is a gorgeous fountain with rocks in the top and water that flows over the edge into that sort-of carved-out section. I love flowing water. On the right, the three candles are sitting on top of the baptismal font. We had the joy of celebrating two baptisms today--twin babies! (Incidentally, the girl's name was Amanda Marie, which made me smile since I'm Amanda Maree.)




Closer view of the table.




Sanctuary.




Fireplace at the back of the sanctuary...a very unique feature! I'll get to participate in mid-week evening worship around the fireplace during Advent (when, presumably, the table will be moved).




I also stopped at Hegre Lutheran Church on my way home from Trinity, mainly so I could meet a few more people since I haven't been there yet. I also wanted to catch the end of their service to see them in action, because I'll be there solo in a couple weeks.

Then back to Trinity Sunday night for "Meal and a Movie," which was more good fun with great people!

Polka Fest!

Saturday evening my internship committee hosted a Polka Fest fundraiser to help cover my stipend and expenses for the year. A very well-known local polka band provided music: Ray Sands and the Polka Dots have toured internationally and have appeared on Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion radio show.





Several other amazing musicians also shared their talent, including a children's choir with representation from the eight congregations I serve.

Sadly, I didn't get to learn to polka, but I did dance a waltz (or tried to, anyway) with a lovely gentleman named Ralph. With a five- or six-week Sunday morning rotation, I haven't made it to all of my churches yet, so it was a delight to meet more people from the various congregations.

As an added bonus, my parents and my grandma came to join in the festivities! My parents were in Minnesota for the unfortunate purpose of attending two funerals this weekend, so they were close enough to come hang out for a couple hours. It was quite a treat, since I no longer have the luxury of visiting them regularly.

We had some very talented dancers in our midst! (I wasn't really trying to be artistic with this photo. I just don't like using easily identifiable pictures of people without their permission, so my options were limited. But it looks kind-of cool with the sunset, no?)





We all enjoyed the crisp fall day, along with brats, root beer floats, and other goodies.





Even Sami got to enjoy the fun indirectly. Whatever smells I brought home on my coat (brats would be my guess), she was a fan. She settled right in for the night.

Going with the flow...to Rochester

One day this week I had lunch with the pastor of one of my churches. Then we went out to that church so I could take a look around and get acquainted with their worship habits. This was important because the first time I lead worship (and preach) at that church, he'll be gone and I'll be on my own.

Then he told me he needed to go to Rochester for a quick stop at the Mayo Clinic, and asked if I'd like to ride along. It was a perfect chance to get to know him better, so off we went together. An unexpected, yet very pleasant, way to spend a Thursday afternoon. Mayo is quite the photogenic place, so here are a few pics.


The Plummer and Siebens Buildings, taken from the fourth floor of the Gonda building, all part of the Mayo complex in downtown Rochester.




A closer view of the beautiful Plummer Building.




A view of some kind of street festival or concert, between the Kahler Grand Hotel on the left and the Siebens Building on the right. In the background is the Peace Plaza in front of the Shops at University Square.




Finally, a couple works of glass art in the Gonda Building. The bowl was in the fourth-floor hallway and the hanging pieces were in a sort-of atrium between the subway and first levels.







P.S. I also attended two church council meetings this week, Wednesday and Thursday evenings. I could have gone to a third Friday evening but decided that one would have to wait. And I had my first (since living here, that is) close encounter with deer. I saw them in the ditch in time to stop, which was luckier than one of the pastors, who hit a deer on the way home from our internship committee meeting last week.

Weekly beauty: Touches of home

Whereas, I really enjoyed the Seeking Beauty series I did a few weeks ago, and
Whereas, this is my blog and I can do whatever I want, be it
Resolved that I will henceforth try to post glimpses of beauty on a weekly basis. Or whenever I feel like it (see above point re: doing whatever I want).

So here is your first installment. This week what caught my eye and warmed my heart are the cozy little additions to my apartment that are starting to make it feel like home. Especially meaningful are some of the things I've acquired recently as reminders of the friends who are no longer present in my daily life.

This pillow was a gift from my friend Jennifer. She bought it for herself last winter and she couldn't wait to show me because she knew I would love it. And, sure enough, I warned her that it might mysteriously disappear from her apartment at some point, and reappear in mine. Before I moved, she gave it to me so I could have a visual reminder that her thoughts and prayers are with me even when she isn't. (Incidentally, it also fulfilled the Ikea Alvine craving I posted about before.)





The other item isn't as beautiful in the aesthetic sense, but it is functional and it makes me happy. It's "Amanda's Amazing Chair Lap Desk" from my friends Rachel and Phil. It fits perfectly across the arms of the chair I'm borrowing from them, and it keeps my computer from scalding me to death. Also, it's infused with wonderful memories of the night this summer when we weathered a bad storm together with our computers, stand-up comedy on Netflix, and some wine. Good times.








These items are particularly special because these friends are now the furthest away from me. (In fact, Jennifer is headed to Liberia in a couple weeks.) Having tangible reminders of them around is a great reminder that God provides for our needs, including companionship on our journey.

Sunday at First

This Sunday (and this evening as well) I preached at First Lutheran in Kenyon, where I was welcomed very warmly by Pastor Luther Mathsen and the rest of the congregation. The services were very nice, and it was a pleasure to meet a few more people at First. Take a look at the beautiful building!


Sanctuary after the Sunday service.




One of several amazing stained-glass windows. This one of the ascension. Others depict the nativity and Peter's failed attempt to walk on water.




Chancel, with the stained-glass window of Jesus praying in the garden.




Closer picture of the baptismal font. One of the loveliest elements of Sunday's worship was a blessing ritual for the eighth- and ninth-graders starting (or re-starting) confirmation classes. Pastor Mathsen asked the youth and their parents to come to the front, behind the font, where the students affirmed their commitment to these studies, their parents promised to support them, and the congregation promised to encourage and nurture all of them.

Sami: Trauma and nesting

Lots of words lately...time for some pictures!

One night this week, Sami was enjoying the open window (as per usual) when she suddenly freaked out and started running around like a lunatic weirdo.

I knew something was up but, given the utter and complete darkness here at night (which I am still getting used to), I couldn't see anything in the yard until I got very close to the window. Turns out it was a cute little cat just on the other side of the screen! My windows are at ground level outside, so Sami and her enemy were nose to nose.

Poor Sami! She already has to share "her territory" with Pudge, my landlord's bulldog (here's her view from the window):





...And now there was another invader to contend with! Luckily the trespassing cat scampered off as quickly as it had appeared, and all was well again, though Sami was not quick to let down her guard.

She has had a couple other minor incidents, including getting stuck in the closet once (oops, my bad!), and under the new-to-me borrowed couch twice. I have no idea how she wedged her body under there in the first place, but she couldn't seem to reverse the process.

Also, she seems to feel she's not getting enough play time. She's been dragging her toys into the bedroom every night, and sometimes yowling to wake me up for play time (which, of course, doesn't happen). She used to do this in St. Paul on occasion, but in this place she has to drag them like 20 feet, so it really takes determination. Here she is this morning drawing my attention to her toys in the bedroom:





In general, though, Sami is settling in quite nicely. Check out her latest non-traumatic adventure...making a nest for herself in the bag of plastic bags that she batted down from the nearby shelf. She picks the strangest places to settle!

September 12 sermon

Text: Exodus 32:7-14
Preached September 12 and 15 at First Lutheran Church in Kenyon, MN


Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

So we’re talking about lost things today. I can certainly relate to Jesus’ story of the woman who lost a coin. I just moved here, and I’m slowly getting settled in my new apartment. As we all know, moving involves living in a sea of boxes, at least for a little while. I’ve been doing my fair share of searching for misplaced items, trying to remember which boxes they might be in.

But sometimes I’m not the one searching. Sometimes I’m the one who’s lost.

I’m from a small town, but I’ve lived in bigger towns and cities for the last 12 years. In those places, there are street lights and building lights everywhere. It is so dark here in comparison! The other night we had an intern committee meeting at Hegre. When I walked outside afterward, I was totally disoriented by the darkness. I could hardly tell where the road was, much less which way I should turn onto it to go home!

Darkness was also a factor once when two of my friends and I got lost on the way to our own church in Roseville. We’d been going there for almost four months, but took a different route that night, on our way to mid-week Advent worship, and we missed our exit.

What got us into trouble was the faulty assumption that the next road would parallel the one we missed and would therefore get us where we needed to go. We forgot was that all bets are off when there’s a lake in the way! So we just drove and drove these windy roads, getting more and more lost, until we finally stopped to ask for directions. We got to enjoy some pretty Christmas lights along the way, but we didn’t make it to church until the service was ending.

In all of our readings today, we hear of lost people and lost objects, but of course they are all lost in much more significant ways than my friends and I were driving around.

In our first reading, the Israelites had lost sight of who the true God is. The story really begins a few verses before our reading. Moses had gone up Mount Sinai to speak with the Lord. This is when he received the tablets containing the Ten Commandments. But after Moses had been gone a while, the people started to worry that he wouldn’t return.

So they went to Aaron and said, “Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us; as for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him.” Can you hear the big mistake the people have made here? Was it really Moses who brought the people out of Egypt?

I just mentioned that the Ten Commandments weren’t written down yet at this point. But just a few chapters before our reading, Moses had spoken the commandments to the people: “Moses came and told the people all the words of the Lord and all the ordinances; and all the people answered with one voice, and said, ‘All the words that the Lord has spoken we will do’” [Ex. 24:3].

So the people had heard the Ten Commandments, and the very first one goes like this: “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.”

Moses may have been their visible leader, but it was God who brought the people out of Egypt. The people lost sight of this. They confused God with Moses, and they lost hope when Moses was no longer immediately present among them. So they brought their gold jewelry to Aaron, and he made them an idol in the form of a golden calf.

The Israelites confused the eternal, infinite, almighty God with a created, finite, powerless statue. Only eight chapters after promising to obey all the Lord’s commandments, they broke the very first one!

We may think this sounds like a very obvious sin, a big mistake we would never make. We know better than to worship statues. But Luther says in the Large Catechism that “to have a god is nothing else than to trust and believe in that one with your whole heart. Anything on which your heart relies and depends…is really your God” [LC 10Comm 3, BoC 386].

Certainly there are things other than God in which you trust and on which you rely. I know I have many such things! I rely on my bank account for a sense of security. I rely on my own accomplishments for a sense of purpose. I rely on other people’s opinions of me for a sense of identity and self-worth. In reality, I should be relying on God for all of these things.

There are many things that can define us apart from God. There are many ways our culture and our relationships and our work or hobbies can tempt us to put our trust in something other than God.

Our sin may not be as obvious as worshiping a golden calf, but every one of us is just as lost as the Israelites were. We can see it in how we spend our time, in how we spend our money, in how we treat one another. This world is broken, and we are broken with it.

Well, God was furious when he saw what the Israelites were doing with the golden calf. God said to Moses, “Your people, whom you brought up out of the land of Egypt, have acted perversely; they have been quick to turn aside from all that I commanded them….Now let me alone, so that my wrath may burn hot against them and I may consume them; and of you I will make a great nation.”

God practically disowned his people! He called them “your people,” rather than the usual “my people.” Does this sound familiar? When your child has caused some kind of trouble, how many of you have found yourselves saying to your child’s other parent, “You’ll never believe what your child did today…”? The people have distanced themselves from God, and God is so angry that he wants to distance himself from them as well. In fact, God wants to wipe them out and start all over with Moses!
But this God, the God who brought the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, is the same God who had made a promise to their ancestor Abraham. God promised Abraham land and descendents. More importantly, God promised to be faithful to those descendents.

In Genesis 17, God says to Abraham, “I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you.” God had promised to set the Israelites apart as his people, and to be their God forever.

In the same way, we have a promise from God. In our baptism, God claims us as his own. In the gospel reading we heard about a shepherd who left 99 sheep to search for one lost one, and a woman who searched her entire house to find one lost coin. Baptism is the ultimate seeking and claiming activity of God.

In baptism, God comes to us with his promise and makes us his children. When we were baptized, someone spoke these or similar words: “Child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” And no matter how lost we each may get, no matter how many things may draw our faith and trust away from God, we are always found in Christ. God has promised that we are his people and he is our God. Forever.

In our text, Moses reminds God of God’s promise and puts the people’s identity right back where it belongs—in God’s hands. Moses says, “O Lord, why does your wrath burn hot against your people, whom you brought out of the land of Egypt with great power and with a mighty hand?...Remember Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, your servants, how you swore to them by your own self, saying to them, ‘I will multiply your descendents like the stars of heaven, and all this land that I have promised I will give to your descendents, and they shall inherit it forever.’”

God had promised to multiply Abraham’s descendents and to be their God forever. Moses understood that if God were to destroy the Israelites, God would be breaking that promise. And God understood this too, so he changed his mind and spared the people. God keeps his promises.

The same is true for God’s promises to us. In the waters of baptism, God made us his own and promised to be our God forever. And God will always keep that promise.

Perhaps Romans 8 says it best: “…neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

This is risky, lavish, foolish love. The shepherd who went looking for his one lost sheep left 99 others at risk in the wilderness, where something could have happened to all of them! The woman who lost one of her 10 coins probably spent more than the coin was worth to light her house while searching and to throw a party when she found it! How impractical and silly of them both!

But God does the same thing. God sent his very own Son in the form of a vulnerable baby. And that baby grew into a man who endured humiliation, suffering, and death, all to make sure that we will never again be hopelessly lost. No matter how far we stray—and we certainly do stray—we are, finally and forevermore, found in Jesus Christ.

This is how much God loves us, and this is how faithful God is to his promises. Every time we gather at this table, God brings us back into his flock. In Christ, we are no longer lost, and God rejoices in our return. Amen.

On groundedness (which may or may not be a real word)

I'm feeling scattered and frazzled and altogether chaotic. I'm not in any sort of regular routine, I'm not eating very well, I'm not exercising, and I'm getting too little sleep. My apartment is still a half-unpacked mess of boxes and the details of my work for these fabulous churches are still being discussed and finalized. There's not a lot of order in my life at the moment and I don't feel very grounded or stable.

This is how it goes with transition, of course, and soon things will settle down and I'll find my groove. But for now, after arriving late (again) for something the other day, I had to assure my supervisor that I'm normally a lot more together than this. (Okay, it was really assurance for myself; she wasn't concerned at all.)

Meanwhile, I had a couple of wonderful glimpses this week of that stability and groundedness that I'm missing. I'm preaching at First Lutheran on Sunday, so I was there a couple different times this week.

I worshiped with the community on Wednesday evening and experienced Christ's presence in the word and in the bread and wine of communion. The distribution was made even more special for me by the pianist's choice of music. She played the very hymn that inspired the title of this blog!

Another day I got to join the pastor and two others in praying morning prayer, which they do four days a week. It was refreshing and life-giving to join together in prayer for one another, for specific individuals in need, and for all the world.

I find something very powerful in hearing someone pray for me, or even in someone telling me I'm in their prayers. Dietrich Bonhoeffer says in Life Together, "Offering intercessory prayer means nothing other than Christians bringing one another into the presence of God, seeing each other under the cross of Jesus as poor human beings and sinners in need of grace."

The fact that these three people brought me into the presence of God calmed the chaos around me that morning. I know others are lifting me before God in prayer as well, and keeping that in mind helps me regain my my footing in the midst of this transition. So thank you for your prayers!

Connection and support

After two weeks living in Dennison, I'm feeling a little less anxious about moving away from my seminary community.

For one thing, if I wanted collegial support, there are at least three different text studies in the area I could attend. I went to one on Tuesday at Lands Lutheran Church near Zumbrota, and I met a delightful group of pastors. It was a great opportunity for discussion of what the week's lectionary texts might have to say for our communities. And since it was followed by lunch, it was also a great chance just to connect socially.

I also have been quite successful thus far in maintaining connections with my seminary friends, both near and far. I think I mentioned all my online chatting, phone calls, and video calls, and I've also been lucky enough to spend time in person with a few friends. Last weekend I went to St. Paul to see a movie with a friend, who then came to my new home to hang out, and I enjoyed dinner with another friend the next day.

Today, I met two friends in Mantorville, where we had lunch at the Hubbell House and a little dessert at the Chocolate Shoppe.








They are in Rochester for this internship year, so it was a great place to meet in between. We're looking forward to exploring the many little towns in this area over the next year to see what treasures we can find in the form of awesome eateries!

I'm so grateful that I'm able to maintain these connections, and I'm also excited about getting to know the new people I'm meeting!

Slices of rural life

Here we go...the first of many such incidents, I'm sure, with harvest season fast approaching. I took this picture through my windshield, since I was certainly moving slowly enough to capture the moment.





Somehow, though, getting stuck behind a tractor doesn't bother me even 10% as much as getting stuck in urban traffic. I don't know why that is. Maybe a tractor being out and about feels more productive to me, but I know the cars backed up on city roads are full of people bustling about being just as productive, so that doesn't really make sense.

It's probably just more enjoyable to be out in the open space with a lovely view of the landscape and fewer vehicles actually involved in the "traffic jam." Less claustrophobic than sitting in gridlock surrounded by cars (and their exhaust) with nothing but walls to look at on either side of the road.

Anyway, this happened on Sunday, the same day I saw 10 wild turkeys on my way to church. They were in two groups right near the road; sadly, I didn't have my camera out and ready. Lesson learned!

The turkeys seemed pretty interesting and a little out-of-the-ordinary to me, until my supervising pastor shared what she saw on the way to church, and my turkeys suddenly seemed much more mundane in comparison. She saw a man with a broom sweeping...wait for it...a gravel road!

If anyone has any ideas what that could possibly be about (other than a very unfortunate and seemingly hopeless case of OCD), by all means, share your thoughts. Could there be a logical explanation for this that I'm just not seeing? New workout trend of some sort, perhaps? Sweeping where there's no hope of ever finishing the job so you just have to keep your upper body in motion forever?

First hospital visit

On Sunday after church I went to Northfield for groceries. (How's that for an exciting opening? Are you on the edge of your seat?) Since this Target and Cub are completely different from the ones I'm used to, I can't find a darn thing and I end up wandering the stores in the most inefficient manner possible. I really need to make some notes on where things are or draw myself a map or something.

Anyway, all the random wandering meant I was running late for my plans with a friend, so I was feeling frustrated and frantic. But I had a voice mail when I left the grocery store from the secretary of one of my churches (one I haven't yet been to, so I hadn't met her or anyone else). She said they had someone in the hospital and their pastor is on vacation all month.

After coordinating with the supply pastor, off I went to the hospital on my way to St. Paul. I was slightly disappointed to alter my fun plans, but happy I could handle this on my own, meet someone from this congregation, and spare the supply pastor a trip out of his way.

And, as is so often the case with these situations, it was as beneficial to me as to the person I visited, if not more so. I prayed a simple prayer, but mostly I just listened to his reminiscences, and he preached to me (without even realizing it) about the certainty of Jesus' promises in the face of failing health.

As I was leaving, he said, "Thank you for visiting. Thank you for bringing the Lord's blessing to me."

Wow. I'm not sure I had ever before heard the link between my simple actions and God's work articulated so directly. Talk about humbling...who on earth am I to do such a thing? And yet, sure enough, God used me to bless this lovely man who had already blessed me. I am still marveling at it.

Sunday at Grace

Well, I survived my first experience singing liturgy in public! And no one walked out or looked pained or anything, so I think it went okay. The rest of the worship service was lovely as well, and it was a delight to get to know some of the folks at Grace in Nerstrand, where my supervisor, Judy Reitz Gustafson, is pastor. Here's a look at some of Grace's interior.


The beautiful sanctuary (obviously should have turned the lights on before taking the pics...sorry about that).




Closer view of the chancel (altar area).




One of many very pretty stained glass windows, this one portraying Jesus the Good Shepherd.




And the narthex (entry area).




The rest of my busy three-day weekend was also great. I spent some time with various friends back in St. Paul, and hosted one here at my new place as well. Back at it today, with some sermonizing to do this week...preaching at First Lutheran on Sunday!

On identity

I read a great blog post on Stuff Christians Like that recalled for me all the reflection I've done around ego and identity over the past couple years. The author was right on in saying, "Today, across the planet, people like me and people like you are going to walk out their front doors and ask people they see, 'Who am I?'...And the sad thing is, the answers will fail us."

Most of us want others to think highly of us, and I often find it almost impossible not to put too much stock in their opinions. But of course when we ask others to define us, their answers leave us unsatisfied and insecure. Whatever validation others might offer as to our unique gifts, talents, and personal characteristics, their affirmation can never reach the deepest part of our being, the part of us that knows God as the only source of our identity.

This is a wonderful reminder as I begin a new role. It's important to keep in mind that I am not defined by my identity as a student, or my identity as an intern pastor, or even my identity in the relationships of my life, as important as these all are. I certainly hope I can serve effectively here, and I hope people benefit from my work and enjoy my presence, but whether they do or not, I remain a child of God, called and claimed in the waters of baptism.

Luther says "the power and effect of baptism...is nothing else than the slaying of the old Adam and the resurrection of the new creature, both of which must continue in us our whole life long" (LC Baptism 65; see another translation here). A friend calls this the daily death of our "self-made selves," wherein God negates all the ways in which we define ourselves and affirms instead that we are defined solely by God's gift of life in the cross of Christ.

And so our identity lies not in the power of other people's opinions of us, or in our own pride in our talents and accomplishments, but in the power of the Holy Spirit that raises us to life each day. Thanks be to God for such freedom!


Image: Baptism of Jesus by He Qi.