Church ladies: Quilting

The faithful women of all my churches are always up to something good, and one of those things is quilting. Several of my churches have quilting circles. They make various types of quilts to send to people around the world who need the warmth.

Here's a glimpse of the action at Holden last week. Unfortunately, I had a lot going on that day, so I got there as they were wrapping up. I'll have to see what I can do about better pictures, and some from other churches as well.

Weekly beauty: Prayer of St. Francis de Sales

I found this prayer (which really reads more like a blessing with its second-person language) on A Place for Prayer a while back. By total coincidence, the feast day of St. Francis de Sales (1567-1622) was this past Monday, January 24.


The Prayer of St. Francis de Sales

Be at peace
Do not look forward in fear to the changes of life;
rather look to them with full hope as they arise.

God, whose very own you are,
will deliver you from out of them.
God has kept you hitherto,
and God will lead you safely through all things;
and when you cannot stand it,
God will bury you in loving arms.

Do not fear what may happen tomorrow;
the same everlasting parent who cares for you today
will take care of you then and everyday.

God will either shield you from suffering,
or will give you unfailing strength to bear it.

Be at peace,
and put aside all anxious thoughts and imagination.

Sami the recluse

By my calculations, it's been a while since I did a Sami update. Here's the latest.

She's turned into a hermit. Sleeps under the sofa or chair all day long. I have a theory that it's extra warm under there, since I have radiant in-floor heat and the sofa and chair have skirts around them that probably retain the heat.





She has learned that an undiscovered territory lies beyond the front door, which goes upstairs into the main floors of my landlord's house. I had to keep it open one day a while back, in order to listen for a delivery at the front door, so now she has expanded her obsession with the laundry room door.




Incidentally, through a series of unfortunate events that occurred when I was out of town on retreat, Sami was trapped in the laundry room for almost 24 hours. It hasn't dampened her enthusiasm for that particular room. As soon as I liberated and fed her, she wanted right back in to explore some more.

She went with me to my parents' house just after Christmas, which is traumatic for both of us, as it involves prying her out from under the bed to get her in her carrier, and forcing a motion sickness pill down her throat to prevent (or at least diminish) car sickness.

But once we're there, she loves to play with my mom's yarn. And this is how she plays...chases it for about 8 seconds, then sits and watches the humans run and dance around like fools. I'm sure it's ever so amusing for her.





And, just for the sake of gratuitous cuteness, here's Christmas Sami sleeping on the little stocking that serves as both pillow and prey.

First English Lutheran Church, Faribault

The pastors of First English Lutheran both had conflicts that kept them away from their Saturday evening worship service last week, and they invited me to fill in as pulpit supply.

So I got to preach and lead worship with the good folks of this congregation, which was lovely. It's nice to meet more people from the area.

Also lovely is their building. My favorite part is the painted beams, which you can see on the last couple pictures.

January 23 sermon

Text: Matthew 4:12-23
Preached January 22 at First English Lutheran Church in Faribault, MN and January 23 at Trinity Lutheran Church in West Concord, MN


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

Did you hear some echoes of Christmas in our readings today?
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light. Those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”

These words from Isaiah are the Old Testament reading for Christmas Eve, when the light of Christ makes its appearance in a dark world.

The Israelites of Isaiah’s time knew oppression, as they languished under Assyrian domination. And the Jewish people of Jesus’ time knew their own kind of oppression, as they labored under Roman occupation.

Peter and Andrew, James and John were all fishermen. We tend to associate fishing with relaxation, I suppose—time away from work, a respite in the fresh air. But this is not at all what these fishermen’s life was like. Their work was relentless, demanding their attention through long days of strenuous physical exertion, hauling heavy nets around and hoping they became even heavier as they filled with fish. It was dirty, grimy, smelly work.

And it was not financially lucrative. Fishermen were at the bottom of a complex economic hierarchy. There were fees and taxes for everything from the fishing space itself to the boats to the shipping of the product. It was all designed to keep these men in place at the bottom, while benefiting the powerful few at the top of this economic pyramid.

Peter and Andrew, James and John were living in their own kind of darkness. Their work was difficult, and the structure within which they toiled was oppressive. Then one day Jesus walked by, and these people who walked in darkness saw a great light.

“Follow me,” Jesus said to Peter and Andrew, “and I will make you fish for people.” What could this have meant? Did they understand what Jesus was calling them to do? James and John may not have gotten even that much information. Matthew just says Jesus called them. Could they have known what they were signing up for?

This was very early in Jesus’ ministry. So far, according to Matthew, Jesus’ public activity had included being baptized by John and proclaiming, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Is this all the disciples had to go on? Is this all they knew of Jesus?

Maybe so, and still they responded. Matthew says they left their work immediately and followed Jesus. Immediately they followed, not knowing to what exactly they were being called, not knowing what this new life held for them, not knowing where Jesus would lead them or whether there was anything in it for them.

They didn’t know the rest of the story as we do, but they must have known something of the scriptures which the Jewish people heard and studied all their lives. They must have known that God had promised to send light into the world, to shine light on those sitting in deep darkness. And they must have seen that light shining in Jesus—the light no darkness can overcome, a force for freedom from all that oppresses us.

They must have known that God had promised a hopeful future to his people. God had promised that the “yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor,” God would break, “as on the day of Midian,” that great day when Gideon and his tiny band of scrappy Israelites had defeated a powerful foreign army.

Peter and Andrew, James and John must have seen something in Jesus that spoke of breaking the yoke of their burden. Perhaps it was the fact that Jesus didn’t ask them about their qualifications for discipleship. He didn’t ask about their background, education, or experience. He didn’t ask them for references, and he certainly didn’t demand a hefty slice of their profit like everyone else seemed to do.

Jesus knew exactly what kind of men these were. Jesus knew that fishermen were usually not well-educated, that they were at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder, that they were covered in grime and probably quite rough around the edges. But Jesus didn’t even ask them to clean themselves up before joining him in his work. “Follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will make you fish for people.”

Jesus called these men into discipleship and service, just as they were. God knows about our gifts and talents and interests and professions. God knows about our tastes and habits and personality quirks. And God doesn’t require us to change who we are in order to follow him. Instead, God invites us to use all of those gifts and interests and quirks in God’s work.

We don’t have to get our act together before God can use us to serve the world. Remember what God promised to do: To break the yoke of our burden, the bar across our shoulders, the rod of our oppressor, as on the day of Midian.

God is at work, freeing us from oppression to sin, death, and the devil. Freeing us from our mistakes and failures, freeing us from the burdens of our past and the flaws that continue to trouble us. We are not left alone in our darkness, for God sends us a great light. God sends Jesus Christ, the light of the world, to shine on us and lead us out of our darkness.

This is the light that Peter and Andrew saw and followed. This is the light that compelled James and John to leave their father and their fishing. Jesus’ followers see this light of hope and victory, and Jesus’ followers become the ones who bear that light to the world.

Very soon in Matthew’s story of Jesus’ ministry, we will hear Jesus say the words that someone said to each of us at our baptism: “Let your light so shine before others, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven” (5:16).

“Follow me,” Jesus says, “and I will make you fish for people.” Notice that Jesus does not say, “Follow me and I’ll make you rich and powerful and quite comfortable.” Jesus does not say, “Follow me and I’ll meet all your emotional needs so that you’ll feel happy all the time.” Instead, Jesus says, “Follow me, and I’ll put you to work”!

The followers of Jesus bear his light into the world. And when we shine forth the light of Christ, what are we illuminating? Matthew clues us in a little later in our text when he says: “Jesus went throughout Galilee teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”

In Jesus Christ, God’s kingdom comes near, and we see it in the good news of forgiveness and healing that Jesus proclaims and enacts. To follow Jesus is to point to this work of God’s kingdom, to participate in it, and to invite others to share in it. To follow Jesus is to use our gifts and talents in service to God and others.

Make no mistake: this call of Jesus to follow him is not without its challenges. James and John left their father and their family fishing business. Perhaps some of you have left your family farms or businesses, or perhaps you’ve watched your children do so. It’s not easy.

Jesus and his followers lived an unsettled life, constantly moving from place to place as their ministry unfolded. By the time I finish seminary next year, I will have moved 14 times in 14 years. I know about being unsettled, and perhaps you do to. It’s not easy.

God sometimes disrupts the comfortable patterns of our lives because the kingdom of God is not about our comfort. The kingdom of God is about serving God by loving our neighbors. God disrupts the comfortable patterns of our lives in order to rearrange them, to reorient us away from ourselves and our own agendas and toward others and their needs.

Peter and Andrew, James and John left their familiar lives to form a new community based not on family ties or geographic proximity or professional connections, but based solely in Jesus. We are all called to reorient our lives around Jesus and his work among us, but we are not all called to leave our communities or professions. In fact, Jesus didn’t invite these first followers to leave their profession entirely, but to transform it—to fish for people instead of fish!

When God calls us, he incorporates us into the story of God’s people, he invites us into God’s work in the world, and he draws us into the very life of God. God works through us in the everyday situations of our lives to shine Christ’s light into the world. Your work is God’s work—a way for you to follow Jesus.

If you’re a cook, God works through you to feed his people. If you’re an accountant, God works through you to maintain order and to ensure fair and accurate financial dealings. If you’re a construction worker, God works through you to create the places where people live and work and learn and play. Through your profession or your volunteering, you can “let your light so shine before others that they see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Neither does God’s call mean that we suddenly stop being daughters and sons, husbands and wives, sisters and brothers. Peter and Andrew, James and John left their families to travel with Jesus, but we are not all called to that kind of transformation of our family relationships. Indeed, God works through us within our family connections.

Think of the importance of family in doing God’s work. How many of us are here because our parents fulfilled the promises they made at our baptism “to faithfully bring [us] to the services of God’s house; to teach [us] the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments; to place in [our] hands the Holy Scriptures and provide for [our] instruction in the Christian faith” (LBW)? Your family relationships are God’s work as well—another way for you to follow Jesus.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” Jesus Christ is the light of the world, who has broken the oppression of sin and death. What darkness are you sitting in, and how is the light of Christ breaking through that darkness?

“Follow me,” Jesus says, “and I will make you fish for people.” How will you use your particular gifts and interests to share the light of Christ with a world in darkness? How will God work through you in your profession, in your hobbies, in your family?

For God calls all of us, as the unique people we are, to point to Jesus’ work of forgiveness and healing, and to invite others into that work. And God equips us for the work to which he has called us. Thanks be to God! Amen.

The post-Christmas lull is a lie

This it the latest thing I have learned on internship. I was expecting January to be quiet and slow. Actually, I was a little concerned that it would be too slow after all the fun and festivity of December. But I now know that my concern was misguided. There is no such thing as a post-Christmas lull.

The last couple weeks I've been out and about almost every weeknight. I've participated in two funerals. I've been in on confirmation and visiting. I've enjoyed fellowship with a delightful variety of people. I preached and led worship as pulpit supply tonight. The list goes on, and it all adds up to no fear of boredom.

I much prefer it this way, though one of these days I could use a couple of slow evenings to do catch up at home. Tonight I finally did my nails (important stuff!) and next on the list is putting away my Christmas decorations. One year I left my Christmas tree up until Holy Week. I don't necessarily want to challenge that record, especially since I hear the post-Easter lull and the summer lull are just as mythical as the post-Christmas lull!

Weekly beauty: "O Morning Star, How Fair and Bright"

I love this Epiphany hymn, which we sang at our conference meeting recently. Here's a video of the first verse, with additional verses (though not all six that are in the ELW) printed below.

O Morning Star, how fair and bright!
You shine with God's own truth and light,
aglow with grace and mercy!
Of Jacob's line, King David's son,
our Lord and Savior, you have won
our hearts to serve you only!
Lowly, holy!
Great and glorious, all victorious, rich in blessing!
Rule and might o'er all possessing!


Come, precious diamond, light divine,
and deep within our hearts now shine;
there light a flame undying!
In your one body let us be
as living branches of a tree,
your life our lives supplying.
Now, though daily
earth's deep sadness may perplex us and distress us,
yet with heav'nly joy you bless us.


Almighty Father, in your Son
you loved us, when not yet begun
was this old earth's foundation!
Your Son has ransomed us in love
to live in him here and above:
this is your great salvation.
Alleluia!
Christ the living, to us giving
life forever,
keeps us yours and fails us never!


What joy to know, when life is past
the Lord we love is first and last,
the end and the beginning!
He will one day, oh glorious grace,
transport us to that happy place
beyond all tears and sinning!
Amen! Amen!
Come Lord Jesus! Crown of gladness! We are yearning
for the day of your returning.

United Lutheran Church, Red Wing

We had another meeting of the Cannon River Conference clergy this month, the first one since October. In November we had synod Fall Theological Conference instead, and there was no meeting in December. So we're back at it, and this month we heard about the Care Clinic in Red Wing and some other great resources for Goodhue County.

We met at United Lutheran in Red Wing. Check it out. The amazing organ was made in Iowa, for the record.

Exciting transitions

Two of my churches, Holden and Dale, are a yoked parish in the midst of exciting changes. They just called a new pastor, who officially starts tomorrow. Yesterday they said goodbye to Interim Pastor Rell Spickerman, who has been here for about 15 months.

It has been a delight to work with Rell. He has over 40 years of ministry experience, much of it in the area of counseling, so his perspective has been unique among my pastors, and very helpful.

Rell and his wife, Louise, will head back to their home in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, and he hopes to do one more stint as an interim pastor somewhere before retiring for real. ("Small world" moment: before coming to Holden and Dale, Rell was interim pastor of a church I attended during college, St. John in Cedar Falls.)

Pastor Heather Culuris will take the reins at Holden and Dale. I hope she knows what she's in for: Holden has had only eight pastors in its 155-year history, which averages out to almost 20 years each. Dale is just two years younger and has had 13 pastors. So this seems to be a long-term gig!

But Heather comes to us well-informed, since she and her husband, Chris, were Kenyon-area interns several years ago. Incidentally, Chris was just called as pastor of Trinity and Wanamingo Lutheran Churches in Wanamingo, so there's all kinds of excitement 'round these parts lately.

Though I don't work with Chris's congregations, we attend the same text study, so I'm thrilled to add both Heather and Chris to my already lengthy roster of great resources! The folks of Holden and Dale are excited to launch this new chapter of their history, and I'm happy to participate!

Coolest garage door ever

It's bright pink.





This is the home of one of my lovely WELCA ladies. Her house was certainly easier to find once I knew I was looking for a bright pink garage door. Check out some of the winter decorations she has displayed. This is a woman who knows how to be festive!





Incidentally, she's the same one who shared part of her hat collection at a Bible study a while back. She's just full of life and fun!

Weekly beauty: Snowy trees

I hate winter and I hate snow. But even I can begrudgingly admit that the right snow can be pretty. So here's your evidence. The first two pictures are from Nerstrand after our first snow in November. The second two are my parents' street in Iowa, from my trip home after Christmas.

Another battle scar

Clearly I am not responsible enough to own an alb (liturgical robe) as nice or as sentimental as the one I have. First there was the unfortunate wine incident, then a few weeks ago this:





I had finished worship at Grace and was heading to Vang. I must have been moving too fast, because I caught the sleeve on a handrail on the stairs and it tore. Fortunately, I do have some basic sewing skills, and I'm quite happy with the repair:








Just a tiny pucker, not so bad. And by the time I finish internship, my alb will be quite broken-in and full of character!

January 9 sermon

Text: Matthew 3:13-17
Preached January 9 at Gol and Hegre


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

Over these weeks of Christmas and Epiphany, we’ve been celebrating the Incarnation of Christ—the outrageous scandal of the true God becoming truly human in the person of Jesus. And here we go again. We have Jesus joining with humanity, sharing in the real, physical experience of baptism.

Can you picture the setting of this story Matthew tells us? Can you see the gathered crowds? The sun gleaming on the surface of the Jordan River? The mess of sand and mud that forms its banks? Can you see Jesus and John, standing in the muck having a hushed conversation?

“Why should I baptize you?” John asks. “Shouldn’t you be baptizing me instead?” It’s a logical question. John knew his call—he was to prepare the way for the Messiah. Surely he shouldn’t be baptizing the one whose sandals he wasn’t even worthy to untie!

But, for whatever reason, Jesus knew it was God’s will that he be baptized, even though he was free of sin and had no need of forgiveness. So Jesus submitted to the experience, standing in solidarity with a humanity that toils under the weight of sin, with a humanity that is sorely in need of forgiveness. Jesus joined us in our humanity, and he began his public ministry by being baptized.

And there was more to experience: Just as Jesus emerged from the water, splashing toward the edge of the river, mud squishing between his toes, the heavens opened. Can you see the fluffy clouds parting, the bright blue sky separating as if by a zipper? Can you see the Spirit of God descending in visible form, fluttering toward Jesus? Can you hear the thundering voice of God declaring Jesus his own beloved Son? Or maybe it was more of a soft, smiling voice, gentle and full of love?

Whatever it sounded like, God’s presence was made clear by both word and sign. The crowd heard the words of God and they saw the Spirit descending. We are embodied people, and God speaks to us in embodied ways.
God speaks to us through the scriptures, to be sure, but he doesn’t stop there. God sends us preachers. And I don’t just mean pastors or interns or other professionally churchy types. I mean all the people who proclaim and live out the good news of God’s love in Christ. All the people who remind us over and over, in ways we can both hear and see, that Christ came for us.

And God takes yet another step in speaking to us through the sacraments. In the water of Hoy Baptism, and in the bread and wine of Holy Communion, God’s grace is made visible and tangible—word is joined with sign so we can not only hear and see, but also touch, taste, and even smell, the promises of God for us.

At Jesus’ baptism, God opened the heavens, spoke a word, and made the Spirit visible to the crowds. God’s voice breaks into our world in a variety of ways, and when God’s voice breaks into your life, watch out! Big things will happen.

We can look back just over the last few weeks and recall big things happening in the lives of God’s people. God’s voice broke into Mary’s life and she became the mother of our Lord. God’s voice broke into Joseph’s life and he, too, was swept up in God’s plan. God’s voice broke into the lives of the shepherds and wise men, and they all left what they were doing to go find the Messiah.

This is what God’s voice does: it calls us to Christ. God spoke to Jesus at his baptism: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” God’s voice gives us our identity, and it reorients us toward God’s mission.

God proclaimed Jesus his beloved Son. And so are we proclaimed beloved sons and daughters of God in our baptism, when we hear the words, “Child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”

Child of God. How often do you think of yourself in this way? If someone were to ask you to describe yourself, would “beloved child of God” be near the top of your list?

There are countless ways we can draw our identities from sources other than God. Personally, I have a hard time not putting too much weight on other people’s opinions of me. The intern committee and pastors have been evaluating me lately, and their feedback is very important to me. Now, on one hand, that’s good and healthy. I’ll grow and improve in my vocation based on what they have to say.

On the other hand, sometimes I lose perspective and forget my true identity. Regardless of what anyone thinks of me, I am, ultimately, a beloved child of God. No one else’s negative opinions can diminish us in the eyes of God, nor can anyone else’s positive opinions elevate us in God’s eyes.

No one else’s view of us changes who we are. But God’s view does change who we are. When God looks upon us with favor for the sake of Christ, we are created anew. When God poured out his forgiveness and salvation on us in the waters of baptism, we were drowned to sin and raised to new life. And even though we are still sinful, that sin no longer defines us. It doesn’t have the last word now that God has declared us his beloved children.

Think of the names you’ve been called in the past. Think of the long-term labels you just couldn’t shake: egghead or fatso or stupid or klutz. Think of the one-time insults that have haunted you long after they were uttered.

I’m here to tell you: none of those is your real name. Your identity came from God on the day of your baptism, when you were named “beloved child of God.”

Of course, God is much bigger than any one of us, and other people are also beloved children of God, created in God’s image.

Can you imagine each person in this congregation as beloved of God? Can you imagine all people everywhere as beloved of God? Women and men, Republicans and Democrats, gay and straight, citizens and immigrants, old and young, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, people of every race and nationality, people of every size and shape, people who are homeless or addicted or mentally ill, people who are insecure or self-righteous or just plain mean?

In our polarizing and vitriolic political discourse, we have lost sight of the fact that those who disagree with us are also beloved children of God, and we have fostered a climate where tragedies like yesterday’s shooting in Arizona can occur. How might it be different if we remembered that we are all beloved children of God?

This is the “reorienting” part of God’s voice breaking into our lives. It turns us away from our own agendas and toward the mission of God, which serves the neighbor rather than the self.

When we are baptized, we are baptized into servanthood. This is not just an individual life plan. This is God drawing us into his mission, which is much larger than any one of us.

God’s love is intensely personal, landing on each one of us as the Spirit alighted on Jesus at his baptism. But God’s love is also wild and untamed, always on the move, always unexpected. Just look at the stable, the cross, the empty tomb!

One writer (Daniel D.Chambers) shared a story:

One evening a New Testament professor from Princeton Seminary visited a high school youth group. After the professor finished speaking about the significance of Christ’s baptism as a revelation of God’s presence in Jesus, a high-schooler said without looking up, “That ain’t what it means.”

Glad that the student had been listening enough to disagree, the professor asked, “What do you think it means?”
“The story says that the heavens were opened, right?”
“Right.”
“The heavens were opened and the Spirit of God came down, right?”
“That’s right.”
The boy finally looked up and leaned forward, saying, “It means that God is on the loose in the world. And it is dangerous.”

After his baptism, Jesus went into the wilderness, and it was dangerous. Jesus taught in the temples, and it was dangerous. Jesus healed on the Sabbath, and it was dangerous. Jesus confronted the authorities…and it was dangerous.

God’s call to service is dangerous. It was dangerous for Jesus, whose baptism was the first step toward his cross. It is dangerous for us. God’s work might lead us into unknown territory.

God calls us to serve the neighbor, whatever that might mean. The neighbor might cross our path unexpectedly, and they might not look like us. God calls us to live faithfully in an aggressively secular and consumerist culture. God calls us to share the good news of his love in Christ to a world that desperately needs it but doesn’t want to hear it.

But God never calls us without also equipping us. The Spirit descended upon Jesus at his baptism. And the Spirit also descends upon us and dwells within us, strengthening and empowering us for the work which God sets before us.

You are a beloved child of God, baptized into the love of Christ, sharing in the life of Christ, and called to the service of Christ. This is your identity and your mission, in the face of any challenges you may encounter. And, as the prophet Isaiah told us in our first reading, God upholds and delights in his servant.

Let me remind you one last time of your identity by sharing just a couple pages of this beautiful book about baptism, written by Walter Wangerin and illustrated by Gerardo Suzán. It’s called Water Come Down!

I am the water that fell on you
Three times with the Word that made you new
While everyone smiled and smiled.

Upon your forehead, the cross of Christ;
And in your hand, the light of his light!
O child of earth and skies:
Burning as bright as the angels at night,
You are God’s love and God’s loveliest sight
On the day you were baptized.

All of us now, on earth and in heaven,
One mouth,
Ten mouths,
Ten million and seven,
Greet you, friend. We’re glad you came—
So glad we stand and applaud.

And we call you by your brand-new name;
Beautiful, beautiful child of flame,
You are the Child of God.

Amen.

Lefse: A photo essay

For the unaware among us, lefse is a Norwegian potato pancake or flatbread. In areas that aren't so heavily Scandinavian, it's not common. (I once did a little happy-dance when a coworker found some at the New Pioneer Co-op in Iowa City.) We had to go to Decorah to get the supplies to make it (griddle, stick, rolling pin).

Here in Minnesota, it's ubiquitous. In my area, we have it at every church dinner, you can buy it in most of the grocery stores, and the supplies are available in pretty much any local hardware store. Which is awesome.

When I was visiting my parents after Christmas, I got to help my dad make his last batch of lefse for this year.

When I was in sixth or seventh grade, we went to my great-grandmother's house and had her make a batch so we could record her process (audio only; no video, unfortunately). As you can imagine, that tape has been a treasure for our family since Grandma Hovey died.

So my dad had a good teacher, and has become a master lefse-maker in his own right. He rolls it so thin that you can almost see through it, and it's delicious. But it's quite a process....


Here we go, with the official apron in place. He had already cooked and riced the potatoes the day before and mixed them with a few other ingredients to make the dough. It works better when you refrigerate the dough overnight.




Mixing a section of dough with flour.




It then gets rolled into these balls. People like my great-grandma just grab a hunk of dough and call it a day, but my dad, always one for precision, carefully measures so that each one is just a hair over a third of a cup. There is a genetic reason for some of my own slight OCD-like tendencies. Just sayin'.




Each ball of dough gets rolled out with the special grooved rolling pin.




The resulting round of lefse is transferred with the special lefse stick to the special lefse griddle. It gets crazy hot, necessitating protection of the tabletop with the specially engineered triple-cardboard forcefield. Can you tell how "special" this all is? You turn the stick in your hand to unroll the folded lefse.




One round cooking while another gets rolled.




The special lefse stick in action, carrying a finished piece to...




...the damp dishtowels that keep the cooling lefse soft. One towel underneath and one on top, which we kept spraying throughout the process to keep them damp.




And voila. The magic of lefse, ready for butter and brown sugar. It's delightful, and it's a fun family tradition.

Weekly beauty: Epiphany

Fridays are "weekly beauty" day, but I'm getting this one in under the wire while it's actually still Epiphany. This festival commemorates the visit of the magi to Jesus, and is also associated with the wedding at Cana and Jesus' baptism by John (both of which point to the beginning of Jesus' public ministry).

This year I celebrated with Evening Prayer at First Lutheran. Last year my friend Rachel and I were herding our preschool "sheep" during the Sunday school Epiphany pageant (which replaces a Christmas pageant) at the Lutheran Church of the Resurrection. They missed their big entrance and arrival at the manger because they all needed a bathroom break, so they straggled in during the next song. So it goes.

So, for your weekly beauty: a beautiful icon of the magi and a medley of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" and "We Three Kings" by the Barenaked Ladies and Sarah McLachlan, which I have probably listened to 3,196 times over the last several weeks.

My growing niece

Dayla Elizabeth is now five weeks old, though still about four weeks shy of her original due date. But she is doing marvelously well! She's grown from just under three pounds to over four pounds; probably close to four and a half by now.

She's been spunky from the get-go, squirming around like a champ and being a trooper. They say she may be home within a week or so! Look how beautiful she is! This first picture, where she seems to be smiling up at my brother, just melts my heart!

Details at Holden and Dale

I led worship at Holden and Dale Lutheran Churches this weekend, which was delightful, as always. Just thought I'd share a few fun details that weren't among my previous pictures of these places.


A view of Holden as I approached from the east. I mentioned before that they call it the "cathedral in a cornfield," and now you can see why.




This might be my new favorite stained glass window. (At least until next week, when I'm sure another will catch my eye somewhere else and it'll be my new favorite until the cycle starts over.) Anyway, it's over the altar at Holden but I hadn't really paid close attention to the subject matter before. It's the women and the angel at the empty tomb. Love it!




It's still Christmas until Epiphany on Thursday. Here's the tree at Holden. The bottom branches are about waist-level on me, and my head hit around the second or third tier from the bottom. Very large tree. I wish I had been around as they wrestled it into the sanctuary.




The new doors at Dale. The etching was inspired by one of Dale's stained glass windows.




The cute little archway by which one enters the Dale sanctuary from the narthex. This building has lots of fun nooks and crannies and interesting bits of character like this.

New year, new you?

My January column for the churches' newsletters.


Once again, we find ourselves at the start of a new year. The airwaves and internet are saturated with features about New Year’s resolutions, with hundreds of “experts” telling you how to fix anything you don’t like about yourself.

How might our experience of the New Year be different if we change our focus? What if, instead of concentrating too narrowly on our perceived flaws, we spend this year exploring our baptismal identity and how it plays out in our lives?

Martin Luther said “a Christian life is nothing else than a daily baptism, begun once and continuing ever after” (Large Catechism). So the impulse to improve upon our weaknesses is not totally misguided, but the emphasis in the Christian life is very different.

New Year’s resolutions tend to be about fitting into an identity prescribed by the culture around us. They are often driven by shame—we start out feeling somehow inadequate, and we end up feeling like even more of a failure when we don’t meet the unrealistic expectations we set.

Our baptismal identity, in contrast, is a gift from God, rooted in love and charged with great power. We are a new creation in Christ (2 Corinthians 5:17)! And we are sealed by the Holy Spirit, whose fruit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). But this fruit is not produced through the guidance of self-help gurus, for it is not work we can do ourselves!

Now, I’m certainly not suggesting we become complacent. Indeed, the Spirit works through our lives of discipleship. Through regular worship, through the Lord’s Supper, through scripture and study and fellowship with other Christians, the Holy Spirit continually shapes us into closer conformity with the Christ whose image we bear. This work is about joy! It is about love of God and love of neighbor! It is not about shame.

What does it mean that you are baptized? How does your identity as a child of God define you? How does it counter the pressure of culturally-defined perfection or unhealthy expectations?

This year, I wish you the peace and assurance of knowing you are a beloved child of God, defined by the Christ who has claimed you, and in whom the Spirit is always at work!