the gospel according to mark

2011-07-16T22:14:00.003-05:00

so i see there are a lot of people that follow this blog that haven't moved over to my new one.

for various reasons i have made the choice to transition to a different blog (different url and different title) and so i encourage you to follow THAT blog and not THIS one any longer.

thanks!

new post

2011-05-08T22:40:00.001-05:00

Another new post at my new blog marklepper.blogspot.com

If you follow this blog and want to keep reading my updates, you might want to follow that one instead as that is where I will be posting all of my new blog posts.

Thanks!

Some News to Share

2011-05-01T12:32:00.001-05:00

I have some big news to share over at my new blog. It's basically just the same blog, but a little bit of a different look with a different address. Go check it out.

http://marklepper.blogspot.com/

Marry Me/You

2011-04-19T18:58:00.002-05:00

There are two songs I've heard on the radio quite a bit in the past few weeks. They have quite a bit in common as they are both catchy tunes, pretty singable and they cover the same subject matter. I like them. I like to sing along to them. But the fact of the matter is, I don't think I like how they approach the subject.

The first one is "Marry Me" by Train. Now, most of the lyrics are fine, if a bit cheesy. For instance, "Forever can never be long enough for me to feel like I've had long enough for you," and "You wear white and I'll wear out the words I love you and you're beautiful." Kind of cheesy, but I can see how a bride might swoon over this song as she dances with her new husband. The one thing that bugs me about this song is the chorus. Not the entire chorus, but how it ends. It starts off fine, "Marry me today and everyday. Marry me..." now here's where I have an issue, "If I ever get the nerve to say hello in this cafe." So, if I'm interpreting this right, then the singer has just seen the object of his affection in a cafe. He does not know anything about this person, but feels like pouring out his undying love and affection and desire to spend the rest of his life with them. After seeing them in a cafe. What happened to actually getting to know someone first? Spending time with them? These are important things that should lead up to a marriage. At least if you want the marriage to last a long time and to be healthy and not just based on physical attraction. If you want the relationship to just be based on physical attraction, then perhaps you're asking the wrong question. If you want the relationship to be based on anything more substantial and long-lasting, then perhaps you should start the conversation with something a little more casual...

The second song is "Marry You" by Bruno Mars. While it is fun to sing and has a catchy tune, it gets derailed pretty much right off the track. "It's a beautiful night, we're looking for something dumb to do. Hey baby, I think I wanna marry you." Right. So, you're bored. You want to do something stupid. Hey! I know! Let's get married. Yeah, that sounds like something socially responsible to do. Who cares if there are people all over this country who want to get married to the person they love, but are legally forbidden to do so because people are afraid that it will somehow threaten the institution of marriage! Let's just go get drunk and get married for kicks and giggles! "Who cares if we're trashed gotta pocket full of cash we can blow." Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Oh, and if you wake up tomorrow and regret your decision? "If we wake up and you want to break up that's cool. No, I won't blame you. It was fun, girl." Yeah, that makes a great argument for the sanctity of marriage.

But hey, at least it's fun to sing, right?

An Unexpected Guest

2011-03-05T22:41:00.006-06:00

I think God has a sense of humor. I mean, God must have one to watch some of the things we do and still love us. And I'm not sure, but I think God might have been exercising that sense of humor with me today.

First, if you don't already know, I wrote a blog post about how March is National Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities Awareness Month. If you haven't already done so, maybe you might consider checking that one out and reading it. It's just the previous post on my blog, so it should be easy to find. But if you want me to make it easier for you, you can find it by clicking here. It's not imperative to this story that you read it, but to fully appreciate this story I think you at least need to know that I wrote it.

So, today I decided it would be a good day to take a book and go find a coffee shop and drink some coffee and read for a while. I drove a little ways out of town just so I could find one where I didn't think I'd know anyone. Not that I don't like talking to people, just some days it's good to be a little anonymous. I didn't have one in mind, I just drove for a bit and then saw a sign advertising a Caribou Coffee off the next exit of the highway, so I picked that one and decided to stop there.

When I arrived at this coffee shop, it wasn't very busy, so it wasn't hard to find a table and settle in. Now, I'm a people watcher and easily distracted, so every time the door would open I'd look up from my book to see who was coming into the shop. There were a few couples, some parents with kids, a few older ladies and some others. As more people came into the coffee shop, it began to fill up. Soon, as far as I could see, only one high top table was empty but no table was completely full. Most had only one, two or three people at them.

Well, one time the door opened and I looked up to see two young men walking in. As I watched them walk up to the counter and look at the baked goods, it became evident that one of them had a developmental disability (DD). I watched as the other young man talked to the young man with the DD and asked what he wanted to get. I didn't want to stare, so I turned back to my book and continued to read.

A few minutes later, however, the young man with the DD came over and sat right down at my table. He didn't say anything, just sat there and began to eat his chocolate chip cookie. I looked up from my book, startled and a little surprised, but I smiled and said hello. He mumbled a little hello before taking another bite of cookie.

I looked over at the counter and saw the other young man was still up at the cash register paying for the items that they ordered with his back to us, so I don't think he noticed what his friend had done.

Soon he was done paying and turned to see where his friend had gone and noticed that he was at my table. He came over with a sheepish grin and apologized saying, "I don't think he likes the high top table." I responded by saying that it was ok, that I really didn't need a four person table all to myself, so the other guy pulled up a chair at the end and sat down.

Pretty quickly after that, the first young man finished eating his cookie, so he turned and told his friend that he was done. As they got up from the table the other young man said, "Are you going to say good bye to your new friend?" The first young man stopped and turned and looked at me. I said, "Good bye!" and he looked at me for a second and then started to walk away. The other young man said, "Say good bye!" He then responded with a little wave before he made his way toward the door.

I couldn't help but laugh at this situation. Out of all of the coffee shops that I could have gone to I randomly end up at that particular one. I didn't choose any of the others I passed on my way there, for whatever reason I happened to pick this particular coffee shop, and so did these two young men.

And then, out of all of the empty chairs at all of the tables that were in the coffee shop, this young man chose to sit at the empty chair at my table, only days after I had written a blog post about my experiences with people with developmental disabilities. It just seems so random and so impossible, doesn't it? And yet, it happened. I was there and so were they. There was an empty chair at my table and he chose that one for his seat. I just can't not believe that God wasn't somehow at work in this situation, smiling at what was playing out, and probably even laughing a bit about it.

Oh, and what makes it even funnier? The book I happened to be reading was "The Road to Daybreak" which was written by Henri Nouwen during the year he lived in the L'Arche community for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities and their assistants in France.

So all of these things aligned at that one moment. Maybe it was random, just a coincidence. But I choose to believe that God was smiling down on it.

[For more information about L'Arche all over the world, click here. For information about L'Arche in the United States, try here.]

All the Body of Christ

2011-03-02T15:10:00.002-06:00

March is National Intellectual and Developmental Disabilities Awareness Month.

When I was in the 6th grade, my dad took a call as the Program Pastor at Martin Luther Homes (MLH) in Beatrice, Nebraska. That meant that he served as a chaplain to this residential facility for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.

Until that point, I had not really had much contact with people with disabilities. So when we attended my dad's installation service, it was an interesting experience. My dad sat up front, so my mom, 2 brothers and I chose a pew more towards the back. I remember my brothers and I were pretty strategic in where and how we sat, so that we were on the end of a pew followed by my mom so that if anyone sat next to us they would sit beside her.

The residents of MLH ranged from profoundly disabled to mildly disabled. There were residents in their 60's and 70's all the way down to Gary, who was close to my age. So it was quite the crowd that joined us for worship that day. It was noisy, with a lot of talking and laughter, some shouts and yelps (some voluntary, a lot involuntary), and everyone seemed to be very aware and interested in the group of people (us) who were visiting.

They loved to sing, too. When it came time to sing there were always a few that wanted to get up and help lead the singing. I remember Rose, a woman in her 60's, would always want to get up and conduct. She'd stand up front in the chapel, a big grin on her face, and her arms waving back and forth as people sang. It wasn't the best singing I'd ever heard, but it was some of the most heartfelt. My dad would later say, "The Bible doesn't say you need to sing well, it just says 'make a joyful noise,' and they certainly do!"

After the service, the staff wanted us to stand and greet people as a family. Reluctantly, my brothers and I agreed. We stood there and shook hands for a little while until Lori came through the line. Shaking hands was not good enough for Lori. With the biggest smile on her face, and an excited laugh, she came with open arms and wanted hugs. She embraced my dad, first. Then she gave my mom a big hug. I was next in line, so she wrapped her arms around me, too. Then she turned for my brothers, but they had quickly run away to the safety of my dad's office.

The years that my dad served, and loved, the people of MLH, were pretty formative for me. I'd often spend time in his office, just hanging out. My dad's assistant led the chapel bell choir, and using a color code she'd lead the bell choir in playing hymns and songs. They would often travel to area churches to play, and I remember traveling on a bus with them on a few different occasions.

There was one resident, I think his name was Phillip, who when he met my dad for the first time said, in his gravelly voice, "Nice to meet you, Pastor Weber." No matter how much my dad would correct him and say, "No, Phillip. It's Pastor Lepper," and no matter how many times Phillip would say, "Oh yeah!" he'd always come back and say, "Hello, Pastor Weber!" Until the day when my dad bet Phillip a can of Coke that he couldn't get his name right for a week. From that moment on Phillip never got my dad's name wrong!

My dad was the pastor at MLH for four years and loved it so much he would have stayed there longer (the reason why we left is another story, probably not suitable for a blog). In those four years, I spent a lot of time with him in his office. In that time I began to get to know a lot of the residents. By taking the time to get to know them, I was able to see past their disabilities and to see what great and fun and amazing people they could be.

Since that time, I have had many opportunities to get to know and love numerous people who have intellectual and developmental disabilities. Through these relationships I have been greatly blessed and I have been able to learn a few things. I don't claim to know everything there is to know about living with people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. I don't know if anyone could ever learn all there is to know. But I have been fortunate enough to learn some things, and so I wanted to take this opportunity to share them with you.

People with intellectual and developmental disabilities are not incomplete. They are not any less of a person than anyone else. They are not missing or lacking something. Granted, something happened that caused them to develop differently, but they are fully human. They are still perfect and wonderful and amazing exactly as they are, exactly how God created them.

Along those same lines, we are ALL created in the image of God. In the book of Genesis, when it says that God created humankind in God's image, it doesn't just apply to people who look and act and think like you, but ALL people. This applies to everyone, even if they have cerebral palsy or autism or Down Syndrome or anything else. Just because they have disabilities does not make them any less in the image of God, they just show us the image of God from a different angle.

Disabilities do not define who a person is. When my brothers and I first visited MLH, we saw what was "wrong" with the people there. When we would look at them, we'd see things like Doug walked with crutches or Phillip had some facial and hand deformities or Lori couldn't talk and was prone to squeal loudly when excited. But when I took the time to get to know them, I learned that Doug was a very caring and compassionate young man, Phillip had a fun sense of humor, and Lori had more love in her heart than anyone I've ever met. I would have never learned those things if I had let their disabilities be a barrier to getting to know them.

It's also not a one way street. When we see people who have intellectual and developmental disabilities, we can often view it as a one way relationship. They are the ones receiving care and therapy and education and we are the ones who have to provide that for them. But when we allow ourselves to be in relationship with them, we quickly learn that they are not the only ones receiving these things, and we are not the only ones providing them. In fact, more often than not, they give far more than they receive.

There is a wide variety of intellectual and developmental disabilities. Some affect a person's physical development and some only affect their cognitive development. Many times you can't even tell by looking at someone if they have a disability or not. But regardless of these things, they are all children of God. They are all created and known and loved by the same God who created and knows and loves each one of us. They are just as much a part of the Body of Christ as anyone else and they deserve to be treated with the same dignity and respect and compassion and love.

So, although March is a month set aside to be mindful and aware of intellectual and developmental disabilities, my prayer is that we all would be just as mindful and aware all year long - mindful about how we treat and often discriminate against people with disabilities, aware that they are a part of our communities, and open to how we might reach out to them and more fully include them as our brothers and sisters.

What I'm Reading

2011-02-24T01:20:00.004-06:00

My senior year of seminary we had a guest presenter for a couple days during our Church History class. Roger Fjeld, a previous president of Wartburg Seminary, came to talk to us about the history of the Lutheran Church in the United States.

I sometimes think that history can be a bit dry and not always that exciting, but I have to say I was riveted. I couldn't get enough of what Roger was saying, especially as he talked about the years leading up to the merger of the LCA (Lutheran Church in America), the ALC (American Lutheran Church), and the AELC (Association of Evangelical Lutheran Churches) into the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America).

He told us about the schism in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod (LCMS) over disagreements about Biblical interpretation, among other things. This schism led to the AELC, as well as Concordia Seminary in Exile, which later became Christ Seminary-Seminex. The AELC then became a voice for Lutheran unity and was an impetus for conversations about a new Lutheran church which eventually led to the merger of the three Lutheran bodies and the creation of the ELCA, at that time the fourth largest protestant church body in the United States.

This kind of stuff fascinates me. I could hear about it and talk about it for hours. So, when Roger Fjeld mentioned a couple of books that were written about this subject, I think it was almost immediately after class that I got onto a computer and found and purchased these books.

Now, I have to admit that I have a severe case of A.D.D. when it comes to reading. I'll start a book and read for a bit, but then I'll see another book I think looks interesting so I'll start to read that and lose interest in the first one. So I've started to read one of the books a couple of times, but each time I'd get distracted by a different book. But this time I sat down to read one of the books and I'm currently on the last chapter. I've almost made it!

This book is "Anatomy of a Merger" by Edgar Trexler. Trexler served in the LCA as the editor of their periodical The Lutheran, and went on to continue to be the editor of The Lutheran when it became the publication of the ELCA. So he was present as media at all of the meetings and conventions that led up to the merger.

It's a bit dry, sometimes it felt like I was looking through really extensive minutes from a church council meeting. But it gave a inside look at what led up to the merger - the struggles and the joys, the ego trips and the compromises, the long journey and finally the celebration when the three churches voted at their respective assemblies to merge into this new church.

There were lots of people involved in this process, too. People like Barbara Lundblad, who now serves as Professor of Preaching at Union Seminary in New York. Herbert Chilstrom was very involved, and served as the first presiding bishop of the ELCA. Will Herzfeld was also very involved, and was a strong voice for the inclusion of minorities and women (sidenote: Herzfeld was an associate of Martin Luther King, Jr. and served as the bishop of the AELC making him the first African-American to lead a U.S. Lutheran church body. He also came to speak at my college when I was a student there and, had I really known all of this about him at the time, I probably would have taken more time to get to know him and hear his story). Even Stanley Olson is mentioned who was serving as a synod bishop at the time but then went on to be the Executive Director of the unit for Vocation and Education in the ELCA and now serves as the current president of Wartburg Seminary.

It's really quite an interesting story. It's about people trying to discern what God might be calling us as Lutherans to be about and to do, and seeking to be a united group and a unified voice. It wasn't a perfect process, there were little groups that broke off and didn't want to merge, there were people who thought things went too far or not far enough. But they worked together and compromised and tried their best to do what they discerned to be the will of God.

Next in line is the book "High Expectations" also by Trexler which is sort of the follow-up to "Anatomy of a Merger." In this second book, Trexler details the first few years of the ELCA as it began to get its feet and figure itself out.

Then, the next book is "Memoirs in Exile" by John Tietjen. Now this should really be interesting. Tietjen was president of Concordia Seminary in St Louis, MO which was the flagship seminary (I think) of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. They got into a "discussion" about the use of the historical-critical method of Biblical interpretation and whether it should be used, or not. Tietjen led the group that left the seminary and started the AELC and Concordia Seminary in Exile. This book is the story of his experiences during that time.

So that's what is on my list of things to read. If you've read this far, I'm impressed. I think when I sat down to write this blog entry it seemed a lot more exciting and fascinating in my head. But then, I am a self-avowed church nerd and this kind of thing really does interest me.

Is there a draft in here?

2011-02-22T16:48:00.005-06:00

Is there a draft in here? or, The Movement of the Holy Spirit in the ELCA Assignment Process

This week is Regional Assignments for ELCA seminarians. It's an interesting process full of excitement and uncertainty. It's exciting to know that you are learning about your future, but it's uncertain because you don't have all the control over what you're learning.

You see, among all the paperwork and essay writing you do in the candidacy process, your senior year you fill out some forms to let the ELCA know where you would like to end up. The ELCA is separated into 9 regions and within those regions there are 65 synods. On the paperwork, you are given the opportunity to let the ELCA know where in the midst of all of them you'd like to go.

You have a few options on how you'd like to do this. One option is to restrict. You can say that you only want to end up in a certain synod (or perhaps synods). They give you space, then, to explain why you are restricting. Perhaps you have a spouse who has a job they love, or a loved one with health concerns that you want to be near. Or any number of reasons really. The synod(s) you choose to restrict to then have the option to approve or deny your restriction.

Another option is the "go anywhere" box. There is a box on the form that you can check that let the synods and bishops know that you are open to going anywhere, without preference. There is some excitement in checking that box and leaving the future wide open. But, then you have to really be open to going anywhere. As in South Carolina, or Western North Dakota, or Kentucky, or Missouri, or Nebraska, or Wyoming, or Delaware, or New Mexico... basically anywhere. I mean, you could get upset if you ended up somewhere you didn't like, but then why'd you check the "go anywhere" box? A note about this particular option, you would think that bishops and synods would like this option. Here is someone who is open to the process and willing to go anywhere to serve the mission of the Church. But, in conversation with a handful of them my senior year of seminary, they said that they know that people have preferences. There are places you would like to end up and places you would not like to end up. So let them know where you'd like to end up.

To do that, you have the third option of checking the "open to anywhere, but with preferences" box. This option says that there are places you would prefer to end up. Then, it gives you space to write down three regions of the ELCA you would prefer. And then, within those three regions, you are allowed to choose three synods in each. This gives you the opportunity to express where you would like to end up, but it leaves you open to other possibilities, too. Most people, in my experience, choose this option. The bishops I referred to in my previous paragraph said that they try to honor one of your preferences, but that is not always the case. Sometimes people end up somewhere that wasn't on their radar. Often times it's because bishops and synod staff have ideas for that particular person. But sometimes it just happens.

Now, after all the forms are sent in, bishops and synod staff members and seminary presidents get together in what we call "The Draft." We call it that because it seems to be very similar to something like the NFL or NBA draft. You have all these candidates looking to be rostered leaders in the ELCA, the seminary presidents representing them and you have all these synods with spots they want to fill. Now I cannot write with any certainty what this process actually looks like, as I've never been to the draft. I want, with every fiber of my being, to see what happens there, to watch the interaction between the bishops and synod staff as they sort through the candidates. But somehow, at the end of the day, all of the candidates are assigned to a region.

Then, the presidents return to their schools and let the students know what region they've been assigned. Then the students wait (sometimes a couple days, sometimes a couple weeks) for a phone call from a bishop letting them know which synod they've landed in. This is a nerve wracking time for seminary students. It can be an exciting time (for those who are open to going anywhere, or receive an assignment they are happy about) and it can be an upsetting time (to someone who has their restriction denied or who gets an assignment they didn't list as a preference). I am sure that all involved in the process - ELCA, regions, synods, seminaries, students and families - would love your prayers.

Even though it's been five years now since I was in the process, I remember it vividly. As I mentioned before, there was a group of about five bishops who showed up on the campus of Wartburg Seminary my senior year. It was an annual event, a different group of bishops showed up each year to talk to the senior students and spouses, to give them some sort of idea of what the assignment process looked like. After a time of questions and answers (where I asked about checking the "go anywhere" box, which I was seriously contemplating) there was a wine and cheese reception.

It was at this reception that I happened to have a long conversation with one of the bishops. He was representing a synod out in Pennsylvania, which at that time was nowhere on my radar. But we hit it off famously and had a wonderful conversation. At the end of the evening he asked if he could take my name so that, when it came time for regional assignments, he could make sure to request me for his synod. Excited at this prospect, I gave him my name.

Then, as I filled out my assignment paperwork, I would often e-mail him asking his advice on how to fill parts of it out so that I would end up in his synod. I picked Region 7 as my first choice, since that's the region where his synod was. I put his synod as my first choice, followed by Metro New York and Upstate New York. I then picked Region 5, which is Iowa, Illinois and Wisconsin, and chose three synods in Wisconsin as my preferences in that region. Then, as my third choice I picked Region 3, which is North and South Dakota and Minnesota. At that time, I really only wanted to end up in Northeast Minnesota, as some of my best friends were in that synod at that time. But I was afraid if I only chose one synod and left the other two options blank, that it might leave me open to ending up somewhere else in that region. So I put the Minneapolis and St Paul Area Synods in those two open spots because I knew there really was no reason I would end up in either. The "word on the street" was that there are waiting lists for both synods of seminary graduates looking for calls in these synods. No way a Wartburg grad would end up there.

I met with my seminary's president and showed him my paperwork. He said that if I put that particular synod as my first choice, and that the bishop there was asking for me, it was pretty certain that I would end up there. He also said that I could scratch the Minneapolis and St Paul synods off of my list because Wartburg grads never ended up there. I told him that was pretty much why they were on the list.

Finally, it was Assignment Day. My class gathered with our families in one of the rooms on campus. Staff and faculty showed up to support us. Our Academic Dean shared a few words and then sealed envelopes were passed out. Inside those envelopes was our future. Some quickly opened them, some were more tentative. I think I was a quick one. I pulled out the letter, knowing I was going to see Region 7 printed on that paper. But, lo and behold, there was Region 3. I was a little taken aback, perhaps a bit upset. But I knew that it was a preference I had listed and so I couldn't be angry about it.

I figured, then, that I was going to end up in Northeast Minnesota. That made the most sense to me, but I also knew that it wasn't written in stone. I could still end up in Southeast MN or Western North Dakota or anywhere in between. So I learned the names of the different bishops and prepared myself to sound excited regardless which voice was on the other end of the phone.

Well, a few days later I was doing my work study job down in the youth room of the seminary. There were kids running all over. Some were watching a show on TV, a few were playing a game on the computer, and little Erica was smacking the daylights out of a large, bouncy ball with a wiffle ball bat. And that's when my cellphone vibrated. And that's when I found out that I had been assigned to the Minneapolis Area Synod. I was the first Wartburg Seminary grad "in memorable history" to get assigned to that synod. And it had been my second synod preference in my third regional preference, and had been put there simply to hold a spot not because I actually thought I'd end up there.

But that was five years ago now. I have been in my current congregation since then (well, about six months after that) and have been greatly blessed by the people I serve and the ministry I do. It was not what I was expecting, and not really the place I had been hoping to end up in, but the Holy Spirit is funny that way. God can take our best laid plans and mix them all up until they don't look anything like what we imagined, but if we are faithful and trust that God knows what God is doing, and we open ourselves to the work of the Spirit in our lives, the result can be amazing. This might not have been where I was expecting to end up, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

So my prayers go out to you, my brothers and sisters who will find out tomorrow (Wednesday) what your Regional Assignment will be. Enter in this process with excitement and trust and faith that even if you don't end up where you've been planning, that God has amazing things in store for you.

Christ in Christmas

2010-12-28T18:39:00.009-06:00

In the past few years, it seems that there has been a rise in the concern about "keeping Christ in Christmas." There are two specific instances that people who share this concern lift up as their proof that this is a valid worry.

The first is the use of Xmas instead of Christmas. They think that the X is crossing out Christ, and thus taking him out of the holiday. If we come at it from a U.S. centric viewpoint it is easy to see why this might be the case. An X is often what we use to mark things off of a list, or to negate something. So, I can understand why it might be a concern for some people when they see the X instead of Christ. But what we need to do is broaden

our viewpoint a bit. We need to realize that USAmericans do not have the corner of the market on Christ and, in fact, people believed in Jesus and worshiped him for thousands of years before we were even a country.

The New Testament is what tells us what we know about the life, death, resurrection and teachings of Jesus Christ. It was originally written in Greek. The Greek word for Christ, which means Savior, is Χριστός or Christos. The first two letters the Χ and the ρ, or the Chi and the Rho are sometimes used to represent Christ. Like this picture, for instance:

Sometimes, it is just shortened to the X, or the Chi. That is why Christmas is sometimes abbreviated as Xmas. It's not an attempt to take Christ out of Christmas. It is using a Greek symbol to represent Christ, which is something that has been done for around 1,000 years. Use it if you want to. If you don't want to, then don't. But please don't assume that the people who do use it are pushing some sort of anti-Jesus agenda. I use it sometimes, and I'm one of the most pro-Jesus people you'll come across.

The second thing is the argument against "Happy Holidays." People seem to believe that we should always say "Merry Christmas" because that is what the holiday is this time of year. Now, I love Christmas and I love to celebrate. So, I love to celebrate Christmas. But I know people who are not Christian. They might be Jewish, or Muslim or even atheist. But, for whatever reason, not all of my friends celebrate Christmas in the same way that I do, or at all. To say, "Merry Christmas!" to my Jewish friend would not be the best thing to say to her since she celebrates Hanukkah and not Christmas. In the same way, in a store or walking down the street, just by looking at someone I cannot discern if they are Christian or Jewish or Muslim, or if they celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or maybe nothing at all. To assume that they are Christian or celebrate Christmas could be insulting or offensive. People might say that this is a Christian nation, but, truthfully, our country has no official religion. It was formed on the principle of freedom of religion, so that people could be free to worship how and when and what they choose. Just because I am a big fan of Jesus and I celebrate Christmas does not mean that everyone else is or does. So, to people who I know share the same beliefs as me, I wish them a Merry Christmas. If I know that they are of a different faith background, or am unsure, I will often choose to go with Happy Holidays in an attempt to respect where they are at, and to acknowledge that Christmas is not the only holiday celebrated at this time of year, not as an attempt to forget about Christmas.

We are a diverse country, and I think we will continue to diversify. We need to figure out how to live together in peaceful and healthy ways. Part of living together is respecting where people are at and what they believe. I think saying Happy Holidays is a good way to do that this time of year. Now, I know not everyone agrees with me. And, since this is a free country, you are indeed allowed to say Merry Christmas all you want. But, as I said, this is a free country and so we need to respect everyone else's freedom to live and celebrate how they choose.

So, this is how I feel about these two arguments. I don't think they are really anything to get worked up about. I think, if we are concerned about people trying to get rid of Christ, then we need to live our lives in such a way that positively reflects Christ, and in that way show everyone how our lives are enriched by knowing and believing in Jesus. Getting up in arms about the words people use, and arguing about it or trying to force people to see things or do things our way is not a constructive use of our time. Reaching out and helping others, caring for their needs, actually BEING the hands and feet of Christ in the world... now THAT is how we should be spending our time.

Dedicating my life

2010-12-16T17:01:00.005-06:00

When I think of my faith journey, and when I became a child of God, my mind is drawn to a summer many years ago. I must have been eleven or so years old and I was at Camp Rock, a camp of the American Missionary Fellowship, out in the western end of Nebraska (no, it wasn't a performing arts camp like the movies on the Disney Channel). I, the pastor's son, had gone on the invitation of my best friend who really didn't have any ties to a church, at least that I knew of.

It was in the later part of the week and the entire camp was gathered around a large bonfire. We were singing songs and having a good time when one of the counselors walked forward. She was carrying a bundle of branches in her arms. She stood before us and invited us to come forward, as we felt called, and to take one of these branches and to toss it in the fire as we declared in front of the rest of the camp that we were dedicating our lives to God.

Now, this was not something with which I was familiar. The community of German Lutherans, to which I belonged, did not do this on a Sunday morning. But, as camper after camper, kids I had gotten to know and befriend during the week, stepped forward, accepted a branch and then tossed it in as they dedicated their lives to God, I began to feel something stir.

Mustering my courage, I walked up to the counselor, took a branch and with a wavering voice said, "My name is Mark Lepper and I dedicate my life to God." As I tossed my branch into the fire, I felt great. When I got home from camp a day or two later, I could not wait to tell my Dad what I had done.

"Hey, Dad! Guess what I did at camp!"

He looked at me and asked, "What?" He was probably assuming I was going to tell him something like I had accidentally shot my counselor during archery or how I managed to not come in dead last in the foosball tournament.

I proudly declared, "I dedicated my life to God!"

"Oh," he replied. "That already happened at your baptism."

That is when it all started for me. It wasn't a choice I made on my own, fueled by the excitement and joy of a bonfire at camp, or because all of the kids who I thought were cool and popular were doing it. It wasn't my decision at all.

It was when the water and the word washed over me, removing all traces of my old, sinful self and filled me with the Holy Spirit. It is when the clouds parted and the Spirit descended and God broke into my life and said, "Mark Bradley Lepper, You are My son, my beloved, with you I am well pleased!"

That is when I became a child of God.

That is when God staked a claim on me and my life.

And I have never been the same since.

The Giving of Thanks

2010-11-29T09:52:00.006-06:00

A long time ago, in a faraway land known as Ohio, there lived a young maiden. This girl lived in a cottage with her older brother and her parents. This cottage had been built on that land by the young maiden's grandfather, and the family had lived there ever since.

Not far from this cottage, there lived a young man. He had lived with his parents and two younger brothers, but had recently left their home to pursue higher learning. On one of his journeys he came across the maiden from the cottage, and the two fell deeply in love.

As often happens in stories like this, the two were soon married. The man continued to pursue higher education, and eventually completed all of the requirements to become a pastor. The People in Charge decided that this young man and his wife, despite having lived their entire lives in the Kingdom of Ohio, should embark on a new journey in an uncharted territory. And so the young man and his wife packed up all of their earthly belongings and headed off to the wild kingdom of Nebraska.

There they lived for many years. They raised three sons and a handful of dogs and cats. They never forgot their family in Ohio and would sometimes make the journey back to see their loved ones there. Their three sons grew and flourished and soon they began their own journeys. The eldest enlisted in the Royal Guard, becoming an officer in the King's Navy. The second son became a guard of one of the King's dungeons. The youngest, well, no one is really ever sure what he's up to. But what we do know is that, this past week, he made the journey from his home in the frozen tundra in the north to the Kingdom of his Ancestors. He traveled to see his family and loved ones in the Kingdom of Ohio.

So, that's what I've been up to lately. I just got back from spending Thanksgiving with my extended family in Ohio. It was a great time, I got to see a lot of my favorite people, and to eat some wonderful food. I learned all sorts of things about Pokemon, watched the same episodes of children's tv shows over and over, reconnected with some family I haven't seen in too long, and had a great time.

The drive was long, about 13 hours. I left on a Friday and spent the night in a hotel in western Ohio. Then I started off again on Saturday morning and arrived at my cousin's house before lunch. I got to spend a lot of time with her family. She has three boys ages 9, 5 and 2 and so I always had something to do when I was with them. I also got to spend a lot of time with my 20 year old Godson who also happens to be the son of my other cousin (who is the brother of my previously mentioned cousin). I got to see quite a bit of my uncle who my first name is named after (on a side note, my middle name comes from my other uncle, the previously mentioned uncle's younger brother, who both happen to be the younger brothers of my dad). Then both of these uncles and their spouses, three cousins, one spouse and three kids and I had a great Thanksgiving dinner together. Then, we were joined later by another cousin, his spouse and their four kids. So, there was quite a houseful.

The next day I drove to visit the cousins on the other side of my family. We had dinner and played games. There was houseful there, too, with three cousins, spouses and then their collective seven kids.

The second day I was there I was going out to eat with my Godson. Being the great Godfather that I am, I said that I would pay the bill. So I gave the server my debit card and she went to run it through the machine and came back and said it was declined. She said they had been having difficulty with my particular bank all day, and since I knew that I had more than enough money in my account, I figured that's what it was. But that didn't solve the problem that we had a bill and now I had no way to pay for it. So, being the great Godfather that I am, I had to ask my Godson to pay for it. Luckily he has a job and money and a card that the restaurant's machine would accept. We went to a store afterward, where he found a CD that he wanted, so I said I would buy it for him. But when I went to pay for it, the same thing happened. However, the cashier said that they had been having problems with their computer system all day and it had been declining cards. So I paid cash, which I luckily had enough of for the CD.

But, thinking it was an odd coincidence that my card was refused twice, I decided I needed to call the bank to see what was going on. Turns out that when I had paid for the hotel room on my trip out, it raised a red flag at the bank, and so they turned off my credit card with no warning to me. Thankfully, it was easily corrected.

Also, while I was there, my 5 year old cousin came down with a cold. My two year old cousin got a double ear infection and pink-eye. When I went to visit the other side of my family, I was greeted at the door by my fifteen year old cousin who warned me not to get too close, as she had pink-eye. Thankfully, I did not get pink-eye or an ear infection, but the five year old was successful in sharing his cold with me.

So now I am back home in Minnesota. Today is my first day back in the office after a great week away with family. I am doped up on cold medicine, and am double fisting it with coffee and orange juice and trying to figure out where to begin on my list of things to do. So, of course I am writing on my far too neglected blog.

But in this holiday season, as we bask in the glow of Thanksgiving and look toward the coming light of Christmas, I am reminded of all of the blessings in my life. I have been blessed with an amazing family, who although I might not get to see as often as I like, the times I get to see them are wonderful and fun. I am thankful that, even though I might have a cold, I have been blessed with good health and the access to medicine should I need it. I am insanely blessed.

I hope all of you become more aware of the blessings you have already received, and that blessing upon blessing would continue to shower upon you.

troubled times

2010-10-12T12:58:00.004-05:00

The internet has been abuzz with news of the restructuring of the ELCA and the subsequent loss of jobs for the 60-65 ELCA and global mission personnel.

I don't know enough about it to comment much. I can't say "They should have done..." or "Why didn't they think about..." or "They had no good reason to..."

All I know is that some changes had to be made, and they resulted in some pretty wonderful people losing their jobs, and some programs that are important to me losing (more) funding. Neither of which are desirable, and neither of which probably would have happened in a better economy.

What I can say is that in the midst of uncertainty, in the midst of pain and anguish, in the midst of questions and anger and frustration, there is God.

And I can say, with certainty, that with God and with each other, we will continue together on this journey, with all of its ups and downs and twists and turns.

And I can say, with certainty, that there is a Light at the end of this tunnel. It shines in the darkness. And the darkness has not, and will not, overcome it.

A lesson on the Body of Christ

2010-10-10T21:31:00.007-05:00

It's funny how one little thing can cause us to think about how we do just about everything else in our lives.

Wednesday of this past week started out just like most every Wednesday. I hit my snooze button several times. I begrudgingly got out of bed. I walked around my house in a sleepy fog. I took a shower, got dressed and went over to the office.

In the office, things went like usual, too. I checked my e-mail. I started to put together the power point presentation for Confirmation that evening.

But then I realized I needed to do something back at my house. And, since I live right across the street, it's not that big of a deal to run home. So, I did.

The thing I needed to do was in a room where I don't allow my cats to be unsupervised. They have a knack for causing mischief and I'd rather they not do it in this particular room. So I keep the door closed. But, to get the door to latch, it needs to be shut hard. If one does not shut it hard, the door does not latch and the cats can push the door open and run amok. Which they do nearly every time the door isn't shut tight.

So, to close this door, I usually shut it hard. Or, slam it, really. Which breaks most mothers' cardinal rule. But no mother lives at my house, so it's ok. I slam this door most every time I shut it.

Now, give me a second to explain. I don't slam the door by pulling on the door knob. Most of the time I just grab the edge of the door and give it a yank as I leave. It works most of the time.

Actually, it worked really well this time, only my finger was still in it.

*** At this point, we might use some descriptive language that could cause those of a weaker constitution to become a bit queasy. If this is you, you might want to go look at pictures of rainbows and kittens and unicorns for a while, instead. ***

It took me but a split second to realize my finger had been slammed in the door. I pulled my hand toward me, and I'm not sure if the yelling took place in my head or if I actually verbalized it. But then I looked at my finger and realized I didn't see my finger nail. I also realized I didn't see my finger tip. And then I thought it looked like I could see the bone. Turning my hand, I saw my fingernail and fingertip were still attached, they were just doing their best impression of a PEZ dispenser.

So, I closed my finger and then realized I needed to seek medical attention. I also realized I was in no shape to drive myself there. I needed to get back to the office and ask someone there for assistance. So, I determined that I was not going to pass out in my house, and I would not pass out in the street. If I was going to pass out, it would have to be in the office where someone would be present to aid me. This meant I needed to get over to the office quickly.

Clutching my injured hand, I quickly walked over to the office where the secretary and the custodian were talking. Bursting in the door, I said, "I need to go to the hospital!"

The custodian looked at me, the expression on his face not reflecting the urgency or concern that I, at that moment, deemed necessary. "To the hospital or to the doctor?" He asked.

"I don't know!" I said. "I slammed my finger in the door and will most likely need stitches!"

"Oh," he said. "The doctor, then. They can do that at the clinic."

"Ok," I said. Then, feeling a little woozy, I said, "I need to sit down."

So the secretary took me to the clinic, where I was x-rayed. It was determined that I did a pretty good job of demolishing my finger. The skin was torn and, to use the Doctor's medical terminology, was basically "turned to hamburger." I destroyed the nail bed, and chances are good that I will never grow a nail on that finger again. I also managed to possibly crack the tip of my finger, but the Dr determined there wasn't much that could be done about that. So he cleaned my wound, stitched my finger closed, put on a splint and wrapped it up. I was prescribed an antibiotic, to prevent infection, and a pain killer to use if necessary. I was then sent on my merry way.

*** If you haven't already, you can probably stop looking at fluffy, pretty things now and continue with the story. ***

Considering what I did, it hasn't been that bad. But it has made me mindful of things I take for granted - things you never really noticed your middle finger on your non-dominant hand played such a big part in. Like, tying your shoes. Zipping your pants. Bringing in your groceries. Typing on the keyboard. All sorts of other things. Things that were easy and I did without much thought now must be done differently or a lot more slowly and deliberately so to avoid or reduce the amount of pain that accompanies them.

Of course, being a church nerd, I can't help but think of the theological implications - we are the Body of Christ, and we are all important. Even those of us who we consider to be middle fingers on non-dominant hands are important and valuable. Sometimes it just takes a little pain or discomfort for us to realize it.

some old guy

2010-09-25T16:34:00.005-05:00

I was going through some old e-mails and such today, stuff that I'd saved for various reasons, and reliving past memories. It brought up all sorts of memories, like the time I got stuck in between a bed and the wall at a high school lock-in at a hotel during my years in seminary.

Then I got to some e-mails from around 2006, right before I moved out here to Minnesota to start my call. There were quite a few from when I volunteered at the ELCA Youth Gathering in San Antonio. It reminded me of how, even though there were thousands upon thousands of ELCA youth and adults there, I still managed to run into a lot of great people I knew.

I wrote about my experience volunteering on the Community Life team a few posts ago, but as I was looking at some of these e-mails it reminded me of a particular story that happened. I think I shared this on my old blog, but I don't believe I've shared it on this one. If you've read it, then feel free to stop reading. But if you haven't, or want to read it again, then read on, dear friends!

At the hotel where I was stationed, I was paired with one other person, a guy named Nick who was one year out of high school. It was obvious that the high school girls in our hotel fancied Nick. They would always giggle and say hi when we walked by. One time, Nick and I were walking through the lobby on our way somewhere, and a group of girls were lounging on the sofas and chairs. As we passed them, a chorus of "Hi Nick!" rang out. Finally, one girl said, "Oh. Hi, Mark!" I was not phased. Spending two weeks with Nick made this seem perfectly natural.

As a nightly ritual, Nick and I would walk through the hallways and make sure everyone was in their rooms with their doors closed. The first night we had split the floors, and each took half. The second night, we decided that even if it took longer, it would be more fun to team up to do it. So we began patrolling the halls together.

We were walking through one of the hallways that Nick had been in charge of the night before, when we saw a doorway propped open and some girls talking loudly inside. Nick and I looked at each other and Nick said, "Why don't you take that one." So I walked up to the door and knocked on it.

The door was opened by a smiling high school girl whose smile diminished when she looked at me. "Oh... hi." she said. "It's after curfew. Why is your door open?" I asked. "I guess we just forgot to shut it." she replied. "Well, could you go ahead and shut it? And would you mind keeping it down a little?" The girl agreed and shut the door.

And then I heard her say to her friends: "Oh my gosh! NO! It was some old guy!"

Nick then revealed to me that this same room had the door propped open the night before, and he had had to stop and ask them to close the door and quiet down. Apparently, they had enjoyed this interaction and so hoped to repeat it the following night. Unfortunately, it was not repeated and they didn't get to see Nick again. Instead, it was some old guy who asked them to be quiet.

I don't think their door was propped open the following night.

Real Ministry

2010-09-19T22:27:00.005-05:00

A while ago, I applied at a place to do something I have wanted to do for many years. I don't want to say what the place was or what it was for, because I don't want to sound like I'm badmouthing some place or some people in particular. What I'm bad mouthing is an ideology.

The reply came back from this place that they appreciated that I was interested, and they were sure I would do/am doing great things in youth ministry, but that they didn't see me as a good fit for what they were looking to do.

Now, this thing I was applying for is ministry related, but it is not youth ministry focused. And, while I think I do a good job in youth ministry and have quite a bit of experience in that area, I don't think that disqualifies me from doing well in other areas.

It seems to me that there is this idea that youth ministry doesn't always qualify as "real" ministry. It's those backhanded compliments given to youth directors, asking them when they are going to become a pastor and do real ministry. Or questioning a person's call to ordination because they feel called to focus on youth ministry. Or thinking that someone wouldn't be good at doing something because they have a lot of experience in youth ministry.

Youth ministry IS real ministry. In youth ministry you deal with the same kinds of things that you deal with in every other kind of ministry. There is joy and celebration, there is frustration and disappointment, there is healthiness and new life, there is sickness and death. But, throw into that mix all sorts of other things like hormones, drama, teen age relationships, acne, junior high girls... and there's quite a bit more that comes with youth ministry.

I think we can discount the kind of ministry that happens with young people. We don't see it as real or important, just like we don't think that young people are an important part of our church today. At least that's the message we send when we tell them they are "the future of our church." They are here now, and they are looking to be engaged in ministry, and they need people to walk alongside them and work with them and advocate for them. And that IS real ministry.

So I wanted to write a letter to this place and tell them that they really missed out. That, by overlooking my other gifts and seeing only those that they saw as dealing with youth ministry, they were depriving themselves of the opportunity to get to know me and to see the ways we could have been mutually blessed.

That's what we do when we overlook our young people. We miss out on a great opportunity to get to know some amazing people. We miss out on the opportunity to have them plugged in and engaged in the life and ministry of our congregations. We miss out on the opportunity to lift them up and encourage them to use their gifts and to recognize and celebrate the ways they already are. We miss out on the opportunity to acknowledge them as children of God.

Children of God are important no matter what their age. Ministry is valid and real regardless of what age group it encompasses. We all lose out when we don't acknowledge this.

Something I never thought I'd say at work

2010-09-13T16:35:00.002-05:00

Yesterday was Sunday, and I was in charge of preaching. Today our custodian, who had been at our 8:00am service, came up to me and asked what I did for the sermon at our 6:30pm service. You see, our 6:30 service is our "contemporary" service and usually attracts a much smaller, more casual crowd. And my answer is something I never thought I'd say at work:

"Well, it was pretty much the same sermon I gave in the morning, except without the fireworks, noisemakers and orangutans."

Meme: My Faith, My Tattoo

2010-09-13T07:52:00.003-05:00

Adam Copeland over at A Wee Blether is conducting some informal research about people of faith and their tattoos. Seeing as how I have one, I decided to help him out and answer his questions. So, here goes:

1. Describe your tattoo(s):

I have one tattoo on my right shoulder blade. It's a red cross behind an icthus (sometimes called a Jesus fish). I have ideas for other tattoos (all faith-oriented) that I think about getting. We'll see if I ever do.

2. What made you want that tattoo?
I had been contemplating one for a while. I ended up deciding to go and get one my last summer as a camp counselor. There was a whole group of us who decided to go and get some ink one weekend. I didn't set out to get this specific tattoo, however. I told a co-worker, who I knew was artistic, that if she drew something I would get it tattooed. So she did, and I did.

3. How did your faith influence your tattoo, indirectly or directly?

I have always been a very faithful person. In fact, the summer I got this tattoo I was working at a church camp, and it was also the summer before I headed off to seminary. A tattoo is a unique and fun way to share your beliefs or what is important to you. So a cross and a fish, two symbols of Christianity, seemed like a good way to share what is important to me.

4. What's the relationship between your tattoo and your broader understanding of your body?

My senior pastor has told me on numerous occasions that I should never play poker. I have a hard time keeping a straight face in a lot of situations. People can tell, by looking at my face, what is going through my mind. In fact, there is some statistic (that I can't remember and so I won't quote) that says that a majority of communication is nonverbal. We use our faces and our bodies to communicate all the time. My tattoo is an extension of that.

5. Was it worth it... do you have regrets?

I see my tattoo everyday in the mirror. Everyday I look at it and I appreciate it. I appreciate what it stands for, I appreciate what those symbols mean to me, and I appreciate the memories that it brings back of the time in my life when I got it. Never once have I looked at it and wished it wasn't there or that I hadn't got it.

6. What funny story has happened because of your tattoo?

I have several stories about it that are kind of funny. I'll only share a couple. Since I was a camp counselor when I got it, I know that I didn't take care of it like I should during the first few weeks. There are guidelines about what you should and shouldn't do for a couple weeks, and going into a chlorinated pool is one of the things you shouldn't. But I worked at a camp with a pool, and had to go there everyday with my campers. Trying to explain to my boss that I'd rather sit on the side of the pool and not get in because I decided to get a tattoo during the summer would not have gone over well. The campers would not have been big fans of this, either. And I'm not one to sit on the sidelines and let other people have fun. I like to be in the mix. So I ignored some of these guidelines and played in the pool. Well, one day in the pool, I was giving a camper a piggy back ride. Now, when tattoos are healing they will scab over. You are not supposed to pick the scabs as that can affect the coloring. But I'm giving this camper a piggy back ride and he says to me, "Is your tattoo real?" and I said, "Yeah it's real." and he replies, "No it's not. Look, I can peel it off!" I told him not to do that, and thankfully he didn't because not only could it have made some spots on my tattoo that are less colorful than the rest, but it could have been pretty painful, too.

Another story is how I told my parents about the tattoo. I was unsure how they would respond, so I showed it to them while we were in the hospital and my dad was just about ready to go in for hernia surgery. I knew that if they didn't like it and weren't happy about it, that it wouldn't give them much time to be upset about it before my dad went under.

Being a pastor, my work does not call for me going shirtless a lot. Most of the time this happens at events or places where we can go swimming. Most of the time, these events are youth events. It is always funny to me to see the kids' reactions when they see that their pastor has a tattoo. Jaws drop, eyes widen, and they say, "Pastor Mark!!! YOU have a TATTOO?!?!" It never ceases to amuse me.

There's also a funny story surrounding the inception of the tattoo, and some events that happened afterward, but I think you might have to know me better to get that story.

7. How did your tattoo change your faith (and if not, why not)?

I can't say that it changed my faith, really. I don't think that, because of my tattoo, I am now bolder in my faith or that I suddenly have less doubts. I think it is just an outward manifestation of my faith, and has given me opportunities to talk about it with other people. When I'm in the pool or the hot tub, or on the beach, or some other activity where I am not wearing a shirt, my tattoo is readily visible. I've had people ask me about it, when I got it and why I got it, and it opens it up for a conversation about what the symbols mean to me.

For background on how this meme started, see Adam Copeland’s blog at http://adamjcopeland.com

Volunteering at the Youth Gathering

2010-08-13T14:27:00.005-05:00

It's sermon writing time. Which, naturally, means I'm doing other things. What I've been doing most recently is checking out the website of the Community Life team from the ELCA Youth Gathering which was held in New Orleans in 2009. It's an every three years event, so the next Gathering is coming up in 2012 and, since the planners of the event believe that there is still a lot that needs to be done there, and a lot of good that 35,000 ELCA youth can do there, it is being held in New Orleans again.

When the 2006 Gathering, which was held in San Antonio, was gearing up I was in my senior year of seminary. I knew that there was no way I would graduate seminary, get a call in a congregation and be able to go with a church to the Gathering, but I also knew that there was no way I wanted to miss it. I knew that I HAD to be there. So I started looking for ways to be involved, and thinking back to my trip in 2000 to the Gathering in St Louis. I remembered the people who were at the hotel we stayed at, who were part of what was called the Hotel Life team. They were there as hospitality, making sure that we knew what was going on and where we were supposed to be and that there were friendly, smiling faces waiting for us at the hotel. I thought that I could definitely do that, so I applied.

Well, they were now called Community Life and their responsibilities were quite a bit larger than what I had previously thought. Not only were they friendly, smiling faces offering hospitality, but they were putting on all sorts of fun events like dances and karaoke and inflatable games and mechanical bulls, as well as concerts and worship services... All sorts of awesome stuff!

So at the Gathering in San Antonio I was part of the Community Life team. I was assigned to one of the hotels on an outlying property where you had to take a shuttle bus to get to the main convention center. I was a little disappointed at first, but those were two very fun and exciting weeks. Because we were in an outlying hotel and there were no evening activities scheduled there, our team was pretty small. The first week (in San Antonio it was still split into two weeks, this past Gathering in New Orleans they went back to one, large week) there were just two of us. Nick, my teammate, and I had a blast. We did everything together. We saw all of the church groups off in the morning as they boarded the shuttle buses, and then we'd hop on the last one and ride to the convention center. While we were there we'd walk around the Interaction Center and see all of the fun activities and booths that were set up. We'd go downstairs to the Community Life central office and joke and goof around with the people there. We'd go see the speakers and musicians that were performing. And then we'd get back on a shuttle bus and go back to our hotel to be around in the evening for any people that showed up. The second week, Nick and I both stuck around, and we added a third member to our team.

As the 2009 Gathering grew nearer, and I was now serving in a congregation, I began to wonder how I would be involved. Would I be able to volunteer for Community Life again? Or would I be expected to take a group? As I talked to my senior pastor about it, I had hoped that I could volunteer and have other adults lead the group there. But in our conversation we agreed that, since I had never been in charge of a group at a Gathering, it would be a good experience for me to go in that capacity. And it was a great experience. I had a blast with the kids and the other adult from my congregation that went. It was an amazing experience for everyone involved. But I do have to admit that there was a little twinge of regret that I was not able to be a part of the Community Life team. I had really enjoyed my time in 2006 and would have greatly loved to be a part of it again in 2009.

But now, 2012 is not that far away. There is a little less than two years to go before it gets here. I will have the experience under my belt of leading a group there. Perhaps I'll be able to volunteer again and this time be a hotel pastor, maybe even leading worship services there and presiding at communion... Who knows?!!?

For more information about the 2012 ELCA Youth Gathering in New Orleans go here and check it out!! If you are interested in volunteering, too, keep checking that site. I think applications start being accepted about a year beforehand, and there are all sorts of ways to be involved and volunteer. Who knows, maybe I'll see you there... maybe we'll even be on the same team!

facing down the monster

2010-07-24T21:48:00.002-05:00

I have to say, you are lucky to be reading this blog post. It almost didn't get written. That's because I had a brush with death this week. Furry, winged, full of rabies death.

Let me explain.

I arrived in the office on Wednesday morning. As I walked inside I could see our secretary sitting on the edge of her seat just waiting to tell me something. When I walked in the door she said that the custodian was looking for me because she needed someone tall to help her with something. I said I was going to put my stuff back in my office and then go find her, but the secretary offered to go get her. I didn't think that made much sense, but she was out the door before I could say anything.

Well, our senior pastor heard us talking so he came out of his office. We stood in the hallway chatting when the secretary and custodian came to the office. The secretary walked in the door first and she was followed by the custodian who was carrying a smelting net (a net used for catching fish). It was a big net on a long pole. I knew IMMEDIATELY what was going on.

"No," I said. "I know what's going on and I don't like it!"

Well, it turns out I was right. There was a bat in the corner of the ceiling in the entryway of our church. Which meant that I had walked right by it when I came inside. And now they were expecting me to help them catch it.

Now, let me explain something here. I have not always had this irrational fear of bats. In fact, I have stories about times I helped catch some. I have always not liked them, but I haven't always been deathly afraid. But then there were three instances in one school year that involved a bat hitting me in the head, and two showing up in my room in one week. All of these experiences helped foster my extreme dislike of bats.

So, there I was, standing in this small breezeway, staring at this bat. Curled up in the corner it looked small and harmless. But I knew much better. Our custodian began to prop open all of the doors to make for easier bat evacuation. Then she extended the net and tried to get it into the corner to trap the bat.

The only problem was, the net was too big around and didn't fit into the corner. It didn't even come close to the bat. The custodian tried turning the net around and using the handle to poke the bat, but that just aggravated it and made it chirp.

My bright idea, then, was for me to get a broom. I would use the bristles of the broom to nudge the bat carefully off the wall and into the net, which the custodian would be holding underneath it. It seemed like a great plan.

So the custodian positioned her net underneath the bat and stood as far away as the handle would allow. I grabbed the broom and bravely walked up to face the hairy beast.

I looked up at the bat and began to move the broom closer and closer. But it was then that the chaos ensued.

The bat looked at me and then with a menacing chirp it launched itself from the wall. Directly at my face.

As the bat came hurtling at my face I did the only thing I could.

I shrieked. Like a small child.

And not only that, but I fell down. Now I'm not saying that I gently eased myself to the ground. No, I fell to the ground, throwing the broom in the air, and landed on my butt and back.

The bat flew a few circles in the entryway before shooting off through the open door.

The senior pastor, custodian and secretary stood there laughing. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation, too, as I lay there on the ground. It was a pretty comical scene.

As we talked about it later, the custodian said that I should be proud that I faced my fear and helped get the bat out of the church.

My response was that I would be more proud if the story didn't involve me screaming and falling down.

To dog or not to dog?

2010-07-13T09:59:00.003-05:00

Last month, I was once again visited with the privilege to take my Confirmation students to camp. Now, if you know me or have read my blog for any length of time, then you probably know that I have a deep love for camp. It is where my call to ministry was first heard and fostered. It has been a place of rejuvenation and renewal for me. It is also the place where I spent four of the greatest summers of my life as a camp counselor. I have a deep love and a very high regard for camp.

So it was with much anticipation, a lot of excitement and deep gladness that I boarded the school bus along with my seventh graders. We were going to camp!!

I'd have to say that this was perhaps my most drama free week at camp as a pastor. Of course, after my first week at camp as a pastor, anything else would be a cake walk. There was a lot of unnecessary excitement that week, including three canoes full of boys from my church tipping over on purpose, and thus losing boating privileges for the rest of the week, and the fallout from that. It was an interesting week and I'm surprised that they let me bring kids the following summer.

But this week went well. My youth got along with each other famously, and made quick friends with the youth from the other churches. The counselors were great fun and did a wonderful job.

There was one thing, however, that made this week different. One of the other pastors and I went out for a walk one morning. We walked along the road for a while before it started to rain and we needed to turn back. As we were walking back, I heard someone approaching us from behind. I turned around to be greeted by a black lab jumping up to greet me. I admit I responded with a not-so-manly yelp. I was not expecting a large black dog to be launching himself at me. My pastor friend responded with a scream herself, saying that she thought she was going to get stabbed.

This dog appeared to be a stray. He was fairly skinny, covered in ticks, and my friend said he had worms (I didn't try and verify her claims). But he was friendly and really just wanted our attention. He followed us back to camp, no matter how much we tried to discourage him. I tried to chase him away, but he was persistent.

As we turned down the camp road, he ran ahead. We knew we had to inform the director that a stray dog was now loose on the property, but when we arrived we saw that one of the counselors had already intercepted the dog and was holding onto him. We apologized profusely, claiming it was our fault that the dog was there as he had followed us. The counselor explained that this wasn't the first time he had been there. Apparently he made quite a habit of coming to camp. The staff had named him Linus and they said he belonged to the house down the street but that it seemed they didn't care for him too well. When he'd show up at camp they would return him, and tie him up in the yard so he could not follow them back. But, inevitably, he'd show up again sometime.

Part of me wanted to take this dog home with me. He was friendly, and it would just take a little bit of work and he'd turn into a great pet. Several people on the staff said that if they were in different situations that they would take the dog in. That when my heartstrings began to get tugged. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I could provide a good home for this nice dog.

I consulted all sorts of friends. The reactions were mixed, but most said that I should go for it. This dog needed a new home and they thought I'd be a great guy to provide that home for him. A few friends discouraged it, saying I already had two cats, and that dogs are much more high maintenance than cats. A few others reminded me of the dog I used to own (Frankie the three-legged pit bull) but ended up giving away to another home. I reminded them that Frankie was a special (high needs) case and this dog seemed much different.

So I decided that what I would do was that I would bring Linus home with me if I saw him again that week. If he came back to camp, then he would come home with me. My pastor friend and I were coming up with a plan to get him to the vet should he show up.

But by Friday morning he had not yet returned. We drove by his house a couple times and he was not there. As we ate lunch and then loaded up onto the bus, it was evident that I was going home without a dog. Linus did not make a return to camp that week.

I still think about that dog. I think he has a lot of love to give and would have done well in a house that was receptive that love and had love to return to him. The camp staff has informed me that it's not too late, I could definitely still rescue that poor dog and give him a nice, new home.

So, who knows. Maybe sometime I will plan a rescue mission and get myself a new dog...

3 busy weeks

2010-07-06T21:26:00.003-05:00

I have not posted in quite some time. I apologize to my regular readers for my lack of productivity on this blog. But, you see, I have been busy.

On June 14th, I left with a busload of 7th graders and we headed up to camp. So, for a week, I was immersed in camp songs, campfires, outdoor games, hiking, canoeing, and even a storm that threatened to send us to the basement. Although I brought my computer along, I didn't use it much. I figured camp is a place to experience God in the outdoors, to marvel at the miracle of creation and there was plenty of it out there. I saw a lot of turtles that week and it didn't help that the internet moved about as slow as them, which made getting online frustrating. Especially when I knew I had only ten minutes to change into tennis shoes to be ready for our next activity. So my blog suffered a bit while I was there.

Then, the following week we had Vacation Bible School which was led by some of the camp counselors from the camp I had been to the previous week. Five of them came down and led a week of Vacation Bible School for us. Now, my schedule was not quite as demanding as it had been the week prior, but it was plenty busy. One evening we had a campfire and kids stayed in my yard goofing around and playing games until 10pm. Another night we had our church's annual Ice Cream Social and I happened to get roped into being in charge of making lemonade so I ended up staying much longer than I had anticipated. Another night we had a program and pot luck to celebrate a great week of VBS.

Then, with only one day between the end of VBS and the beginning of my next adventure, I headed off with 36 other people to the Yakama Reservation in Washington state for our mission trip. So we drove across Minnesota, South Dakota, Montana, Montana, Idaho and Washington to get to Toppenish, Washington where we'd be staying (I'm aware I listed Montana twice. I felt it needed to be done that way to symbolize just how freaking long that state is). While there we played with kids, we scraped and painted houses, we heard about the history of the Yakama tribe, we participated in a worship/healing circle, we toured a farm and ate fresh cucumbers, and we had a cookout in the park. Then we drove the 27 or so hours back across Washington, Idaho, Montana, Montana, Montana, South Dakota and Minnesota (Montana seemed even bigger on the way back) and arrived home sometime after 11pm on Saturday night. I had to watch some of the luggage while I waited for our rental vans to be returned, and then I ended up getting home around 12:30 only to get up at be at church the next day for church services.

Then I went to a party with some friends where I served as a jungle gym and a chair and a water gun target for a large group of kids.

That brings me to today where I have done almost nothing of consequence and it feels great. I haven't had to tell kids to stop climbing on poles, or to quit talking so as to not disrupt the other groups. I haven't had to watch a long line of kids as they crossed the street to play games. I haven't had to deal with upset adult chaperones or try to get kids to move sleeping rooms. I haven't had to sit with kids because they got in trouble or constantly remind kids to stay on task and get the job done. I haven't had to give a piggy back ride. I haven't had to tell kids to put their shoes on before they go into the gas station bathroom or to throw away their trash when they are done with it. I haven't had to make any decisions regarding buying food for 37 people and figuring out the quickest and easiest way to get them through the line and to pay for the food. I haven't had to ask girls to put on less revealing shirts or asked guys to pull up their pants to cover their underwear. I haven't had to run inside to escape three 6-9 year olds running after me with squirt guns full of water. I haven't had a large mob of children chasing me with water balloons. I haven't had a single child hang on my arm or jump on my back or grab onto my leg.

And it's been nice.

Although, now since I've finished that marathon run and finally had time to sit down and breathe, I've discovered I'm getting sick. Stellar.

But now that I have some time, perhaps I'll use some of it to sit down and write an interesting and thought provoking blog. Well... that might be pushing it a bit. But perhaps I'll use it to write something.

a few kind words

2010-06-08T12:17:00.000-05:00

I was on facebook the other day and one of the young people from my congregation posted a status update that said that if anyone "liked" their status that they would, in turn, write something they liked about that person on their wall. So, if I were to click the "like" button on her status she would respond by sharing something she likes about me on my facebook page. I thought it sounded like a good idea so Sunday night I updated my status to say "Okay, I'm going to give this a try. 'LIKE' this status and I will post something I like about you on your wall."

Then, not thinking much about it, I logged off of facebook and went to bed. Well, the next morning when I logged back on, I already had quite a few likes. By the time all was said and done, I had 84 of my facebook friends "like" my status. And the people who liked it ran the gamut from friends I see all the time to friends I haven't seen in a long time. They were camp friends, seminary friends, college friends, high school friends, pastor friends, church friends. I definitely had my work cut out for me!

There were times it didn't seem like the list was getting any shorter. I'd write to a couple of people, and then I'd look and see that three more had liked my status in the meantime. Eventually, around 11:00 last night, I finished up my last one and completed the list (unless of course someone else likes my status, although it's far enough down on my page now that people might not see it anymore, but I don't really have any statute of limitations on when you can like my status). It was quite the undertaking. I wanted each post to be genuine and not a generic "I like that you are nice and funny," although I felt that some were close to that. Some were easier than others because some were for friends that I see all the time. Some were a little more difficult because they were people I haven't seen since high school, or that I worked with for a summer of camp and then really haven't kept in contact with other than becoming friends on facebook. So it took a lot of time, and a lot of thought, but it was totally worth it.

Taking time to think about the things that I appreciate and admire about people and being intentional about telling them was good for me. I think it's good for all of us. Several months ago, my friend Ben Larson died in the earthquake in Haiti. When we heard about his death, it seemed everyone had something kind and gracious to say about him. And all of it was true. He was, indeed, an amazing young man, filled with joy and talent and kindness and compassion and love and a passion for justice. But part of me wondered if people had taken the time to let him know that he meant that much to them when he was around to hear it. And that goes for everyone, really. When our loved ones die, we are intentional about remembering how great they were and how they touched our lives. But why should we wait until after they are gone? Why can't we let them know how much they mean to us right here and right now?

So I did that with 84 of my friends. I shared with them those qualities I admire, those things that I appreciate about them. And, as an outgrowth of that, I received quite a few kind words shared with me, as well. As I read the things that people appreciated and liked about me, I couldn't help but smile and my heart swelled. It is always nice to hear that you are appreciated and loved. And if I could make someone feel the way that I felt, just by sharing a few kind words, then it was worth all of the time and thought and effort it took to do so.

Things I took for granted

2010-05-26T23:30:00.001-05:00

I was thinking today of things that I took for granted before I became a pastor. You know, those things that just seemed normal, until I became ordained, that now seem kind of special.

Here's what I've come up with so far:

Anonymity. Being a pastor in a small town, it seems like lots of people know who I am, and not just people from my church. I will go some place and be greeted by someone with, "Hi Pastor Mark!" and I will look and them and be pretty sure that I have never met them before in my life. Or I'll go somewhere, and not recognize anybody, but then later when I do see people I know they'll say, "Hey Pastor Mark I heard you were ________ [fill in the blank]!"

Bars. Sometimes it's fun to go have a drink and a good time and maybe sing some karaoke. But let me refer you to the previous entry.

Clothing. Ok, get your mind out of the gutter! Allow me to explain. Since becoming a pastor I have seen a lot of clothing, particularly t-shirts, and I'll look at them and read the funny little saying or look at the witty picture and think, "That shirt is hilariously irreverent!" and then I'll think, "When could I actually wear it?" and then I'll go look at the polo shirts, instead.

Daylight Saving Time. Specifically when it begins and we have to spring forward. On a Saturday night. When I already have to get up at an ungodly hour the next morning (see also, Weekends).

Evenings. In college and seminary, if I didn't have an evening class, most of the time my evenings were free to do with what I chose. A lot of the time that should have been studying, but it was my choice. If I wanted to go out to a movie with friends, or sit around and watch television, or play video games, or go somewhere else fun, I could. Because my evening was free to do with as I chose. In my current reality, that is not always the case. What's that, you want to get together on Wednesday evening? I'm sorry, I have Confirmation and choir rehearsal. Thursday? Well, shoot. That's committee and council meeting night. Monday night? We have a mission trip meeting that night. Sunday night? Sorry, we have a worship service then. Friday? Well, it's my day off, but I have a wedding rehearsal...

Friends. I have never really been at a shortage of friends. I've always had people nearby who I could hang out with and visit, who would ask me to go places or do something with them. Especially in seminary, when all I needed to do was open my door and step out into the hallway and chances were good I'd see or run into someone who I considered a friend. But now, since I've moved to a far away state to be a pastor in a small town, I've come to see how lucky I was to have so many friends so close by.

Greetings. One morning I walked into the office at church, in my own little world, thinking about what I needed to do when I got back to my office. Obliviously, I walked right by the room where some of the ladies were volunteering to fold the newsletter, and I didn't say hello. Well, I hadn't gone too far when I heard one of them say my name with a hint of disgust. Then a few others chimed in about how I had walked right by without saying hello! So, I quickly ran back, poked my head in and said hello. Greeting people is important. Especially the church ladies.

Holidays. In high school and college and seminary, holidays were times when school was on break and I was able to go and visit family and relax for a few days. Now, it's kind of the opposite. Christmas dinner? Sure, as soon as I'm done with the four extra church services...

Lunch. While health professionals might argue that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I would contest that it's lunch with the quilters/church ladies. One day, after they had finished quilting for the morning, they called down to the office to let us know that they were having their lunch and we were invited to come up. Well, I was in the middle of doing something and didn't want to stop, so I kept going. A little later on that day, I was running over to my house for some reason when one of the ladies was getting into her car. "You didn't come up and join us!" she said. "Yeah," I said. "I was in the middle of something and didn't want to stop." I then received a very stern glare punctuated by a "Hmmph!" That was it. But now I drop everything when it's time to eat lunch with the ladies.

Money. Or talking about it, really. Talking about money (specifically the giving of this money) is a touchy subject in church and I do NOT take for granted that my senior pastor deals with this more than I do.

Volunteers. In college and seminary, since I didn't have a youth group of my own, I would volunteer at other churches to help with their youth program. It was easy to assume that there were people like me who would step forward and express interest in being involved in various areas. Now, that way of thinking makes me chuckle. Sure, there might be a few volunteers like that, but the vast majority of volunteers I get are a result of me asking and calling and e-mailing and begging and bribing. I have also learned how important volunteers are, which is why I've learned I need to do a lot of those things previously listed.

Weekends. Yeah, I know, I know. When you take a job where the Big Day is Sunday morning, it kind of goes without saying that you will not have a "regular" weekend. But I didn't realize, back when I could, how much I enjoyed going places for the weekend. Or, on Sunday mornings, laying in bed and thinking, "I don't feel like going to church today." I can't really do that now. If I try, they show up at my door.

So this is just a short list of things I've come to view much differently, or appreciate much more, since I've become a pastor. Please know that there is much humor included and intended in these words. But there is also some truth, too. Sometimes all at the same time.

What about you? What are some of the things that you'd include on your list?

operation: faster pastor

2010-05-18T13:47:00.005-05:00

So, most of the year I am able to get around and I think that I am in fairly good shape. I walk most everywhere in town, I can go upstairs without getting winded, I'm pretty active and play lots of games with the kids at church. But there is one week out of the year that shows me how far I am from the kind of shape I'd really like to be in. That is Confirmation Camp.

They play this game every summer, one of my absolute favorites, that involves a lot of running. Well, most of their games involve running, but this one is almost constant running. It goes by many names. When I was a counselor at camp we called it "Biffer and Medic." But I've heard it called "Bonkers" and "Boof" and a few other things. The gist of the game is this: Campers are trying to be the first camper to visit various stations throughout the camp. At these stations they have to do certain tasks and then they receive a mark for having done them. Now, while they are trying to find these stations and do these tasks, there are people called Biffers. These people are running around with socks filled with flour and they are trying to "biff" the kids. If a camper gets biffed, they must stop in that location and call for help. The only person that can help them is called a Medic. A medic will follow the calls for help and then they let the person resume the game.

Two summers ago I ended up filling in part way through the game for a Biffer who was needed elsewhere. I ran all over the place, chasing the kids, having a great time. Until I thought I might die. Like my heart might beat out of my chest or my lungs might force their way up through my nose. At that point, I was a pretty worthless biffer and I mainly laid around and moaned and foamed a bit at the mouth. Ok, so it wasn't that bad. But it definitely showed me how out of shape I was.

Last year, I managed to play an entire game as a biffer. By the end I wasn't the fastest biffer, and I had to stop for short rests, but I played the entire game. I was proud. Of course, many of these junior high campers were in far better shape and they had no trouble eluding me. Toward the end of the game, a group of three or four junior high boys saw me and a couple started to run away, but one of them said, "Oh, he's not a big deal. We can outrun him."

Ouch. True, but ouch.

So I kind of had this idea that I would get in shape for next summer. I thought I'd come back to camp and maybe not be a huge threat to the kids, but I'd be a bigger one than I have been.

I'm sad to say it, but camp is about 4 weeks away and I have just started trying to do something about this. I'm not sure that in 4 weeks I will be able to get into the kind of shape I'd like to be in. Especially after months of sedentary living and greasy food eating. But I figure every little bit helps. If I stay active and do something resembling exercise every day between now and then, who knows? I might strike a little more fear into the hearts of these campers then, say, a rampaging three toed sloth.

Little things

2010-05-11T22:00:00.001-05:00

Sometimes, I think we can let little things affect us too much. Let me give you an example from my real life.

This happened my senior year of high school. We had a foreign exchange student from the Netherlands come and live with us. He and I both used the same bathroom in our house. Alongside the mirror/medicine chest there were fluorescent lights that would come on along with the ceiling light when you turned on the light switch. But these fluorescent lights could be turned off with a separate switch on the side of the medicine chest, so that they would stay off when the ceiling light was turned on.

I preferred having these lights on. Our foreign exchange student liked them off. I would get annoyed when I would turn the light on and the fluorescent lights would not come on, as well. I expressed my dismay by putting a note on the wall by the light switch asking that the lights be left on, or at least turned back on when he was done (passive aggressive much?). That didn't work. In fact, I found the note crumpled in the trash can in the bathroom and the lights were turned off. So I resorted to my next course of action which was to put an ungodly amount of scotch tape on the switch so that it was immobilized in the "on" position. That worked nicely until the next time I came into the bathroom and the tape had been removed and thrown away, and the lights were off.

I was sure that he was doing this just to make me angry. And maybe he was. Or maybe he was sure that I was doing what I was doing just to make him angry. Either way, we both thought that the way that we wanted the lights to be was the way they should be. And neither of us was willing to budge.

When I think back to it now, I think that's extremely silly. How hard was it to turn the little knob to get the lights to be the way that I wanted them to be? So what if they were off when I came into the bathroom? It was not that much effort to turn them on. Unfortunately, because we both let this little thing mean so much to us, it only made things worse. We ended up arguing about just about everything. We were seldom in the same room of the house at the same time. I remember one afternoon my parents had had enough. They sat us both down at the dining room table and we were going to talk about what was going on and figure out how to solve it. They had good intentions, but both of us maintained that it was the other who was unwilling to make the effort. Ultimately, my parents decided that what was best for both of us was for him to go and live with the family of one of his friends from school. They didn't think it was fair for either of us to live in that situation, and so for both of our sakes he went to live elsewhere.

I have deleted and rewritten parts of this post several times. I've debated whether to post it at all. I think it portrays me in a fairly negative light, as the kind of person that I don't want people to think that I am. The me in this story seems intolerant, unforgiving, obstinate, self-centered, and fairly obnoxious. And to top it all off, this side of me was brought out by a light switch! There's a part of me that doesn't want the story portraying me in that way to be posted for anyone to read.

It's definitely not something I'm proud of, but I've decided to post it because I think it might describe more people than just me. We get so caught up in the way that we think things should be and the way that we want people to do them, that we often forget that those are people are just that - people.

I started this blog post and I was thinking about things like toothpaste and toilet seats. A friend of mine on facebook posted a status about how she was having to have the toothpaste tube conversation with her partner, meaning one of them was squeezing the tube in the middle while the other preferred it to be squeezed out from the bottom. Now, I don't believe at all that my friend was posting this as a life or death, take it or leave it situation. But it got me thinking of the people I have seen get upset about stuff like that. Or by someone leaving the toilet seat up, rather than putting it back down. Now, I might be seeing this from a different viewpoint because I am a male and, therefore, often the culprit for leaving toilet seats up. But, really, in all honesty, how hard is it to take a tube of toothpaste that has been squeezed in the middle and squeeze the toothpaste up from the bottom? Or how hard is it to look at the toilet and see the seat is up and then put it down (for either side of the issue, really). But these things get blown out of proportion and we see that our way is, obviously, the right way.

But the more I thought about it, and as I started writing this post, I began to see that this not only affects little things in our lives, but it also affects big things, too. Like who's allowed to be in our country, or who's allowed to be legally married or to be a pastor. Or who's allowed to have access to healthcare.

We get so caught up with what we want, and how we like things, and we decide that those are the right and correct ways to do them. We can begin to vilify or demonize those who do them differently. We think that because they are not like us and they don't do things the way we do them that they are evil or bad or ignorant or whatever comes next on our list of bad things. We fail to look at that person who squeezed the toothpaste from the middle of the tube and think that we really have more in common than we have differences. So what if I want the toilet seat down and they left it up. That doesn't mean that they are a bad person or that they have nothing good to offer.

I think I missed out on a great opportunity. I had a person in my house who was from another country, who spoke a different language, who had grown up with different customs and traditions, who saw things differently and heard things differently and understood things differently than I did. It was someone who I could have learned from and shared things with. He could have helped me see things from a different perspective. But because I got so caught up and angry about that stupid light switch, I stopped seeing him for who he was and what he could offer, and I only saw him for what he did that I didn't like.

And that is not what we are called to do. That is definitely not seeing Christ in our neighbor, or loving our enemy, or any of those things that Jesus said were so important.

What would I have said if it were Jesus who was turning off the lights in the bathroom? Who am I to say it wasn't?

the bus ride

2010-04-10T00:05:00.003-05:00

I wrote this about five years ago now, when I was serving on my internship. When I wrote it, I imagined it looking like a bus on the way to church camp. Sometimes when I'm riding the bus with my youth to camp I remember this story and wonder if this is what it will actually be like.

The bus bumped along the dry, dirt road kicking up a billowy cloud behind it. The bus driver was an older woman with strong hands and kind eyes. She didn't say much as she drove that big yellow bus, but she had a quick and kind smile that made the passengers feel comfortable and at ease.

They sat nervously in their seats, silently eyeing the rest of the passengers who they did not know; trying to get some idea about the people they would be sharing this experience with. Some stared out the window, watching the scenery as it silently tumbled by. Others timidly started conversations with their neighbors, asking where they were from, and if they were nervous, too.

All of them had been expecting this trip. Some had known it was coming for quite some time. Others were surprised that it crept up on them as quickly as it did. None of them had ever been there before, so none of them knew quite what to expect. And this made them nervous.

The anxiety in the bus rose to a new level the minute the bus veered off of the main road and onto a smaller trail, passing through a wooden gateway that arched overhead. What little conversation there had been was now silenced as each passenger was straining to see out the window, to get some idea of what this place looked like; what kind of things they'd be able to do while they were here.

Light shone through the leaves of the trees, giving the air an ethereal golden-green glow. The bus trudged along this tree lined path for what seemed quite a while. The passengers were getting more nervous, sitting on the edge of the seats; craning their necks to get a view out of the windshield, to see if they could catch a glimpse of buildings or something that would let them know they were getting close.

And then suddenly the tree line opened up. The light, no longer blocked by trees and leaves, seemed so fresh and golden. There arose an excited murmuring on the bus. The passengers were excited to get off, to stretch their legs, and to see what it would be like outside. The bus driver slowly pulled the bus to a stop. She rose to her feet and turned to look at the group of nervous passengers. With a kind smile she opened the doors to the bus and said, "We're here!"

There was a mad rush for the door. The passengers quickly rushed down the aisle, down the steps and out into the warm sun. As they spilled out of the bus, the passengers were greeted by a group of welcomers that seemed even more excited and happy than they were. The greeters were smiling and waving, overflowing with enthusiasm and offers to help.

At first, the passengers were a little overwhelmed by this welcoming committee, this group of unfamiliar people who were so excited that they were finally there. The passengers hung back close to the bus. But the more they looked at this group of welcomers, the more comfortable they were becoming. Then, suddenly and without warning, one of the passengers shrieked, "GRANDPA!" she broke from the group of passengers and into the waiting arms of one of the greeters. Then another passenger yelled, "MOM!" and rushed forward into her loving embrace. And then the air was full of laughter and crying and yelling. People were rushing into the arms of their loved ones who they had not seen for some time. At first they had not recognized them in this place, there was something different about them. Something better.

Those who had been sick were now glowing with health. Those who had been broken were now completely whole. Those who had been distant were now wonderfully close. In the warmth of the sun, all past hurts were forgotten and there was only excitement and forgiveness and love.

And watching it all was the bus driver with the strong hands and the kind eyes. She stood on the ground outside of the bus, watching this wonderful homecoming, with a wise and gentle grin playing across her lips.

Were You There, or My Junior Choir Trauma

2010-03-24T11:43:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure if I have shared this story on this blog before. And rather than search through the archived posts, I will just go ahead and share it again. That's my way, really. My friends tell me I'm a story repeater. Oh, well.

It was a number of years ago, about this time of year. I'm reminded of this story because I planning an upcoming service and one of the songs we are singing is "Were You There." It's an old familiar hymn. Most regular church goers have probably heard it more than a few times. Anyway, I was in grade school and I belonged to the junior choir. I loved to sing, although I was not the most confident in my abilities. I joined the junior choir because most of the kids in my grade that went to our church were in it, and it gave me the opportunity to sing.

For one church service, our director decided we were going to sing "Were You There," and she wanted soloists to sing a few of the verses. I'm not sure if she asked for volunteers and I raised my hand or if she asked me explicitly, but somehow I ended up with the third verse.

When we performed the song during the service, each soloist was to leave their place in the group and stand out front for their solo. When it came time for me, that meant I had to walk out from behind the entire group (I always have been one of the tallest...). So I made my way through the group and stood in front and began to sing.

"Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?

Oooh-ooooh-ooooh-oooh, sometimes it causes me to tremble, tremble, tremble.
Were you there when they crucified m-"

And that's when I realized I was ending the third verse with a line from the first verse. I had messed up, made a huge mistake, in front of everyone! I should have calmly finished the verse, walked back to my spot and pretended like nothing had happened. But that is not what I did. Instead, I stopped singing. Then, I burst into tears and pushed my way to the back of the group.

Everyone was exceedingly gracious. They complimented my singing, and many people shared stories of how they had messed up while performing in front of a crowd. It made me feel much better about my mistake.

But to this day I cannot hear this song without flashing back to that day. I can see the church, the choir director standing in front of me, the peoples' faces in the pews. I remember the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I realized I had made the mistake, and the wave of embarrassment. All of these things add up to mean that this song is not my favorite. I don't think it's bad, but it's just not for me.

I also thank God that we are saved by grace and not on account of our ability to sing songs correctly.

Getting on my soapbox

2010-03-02T21:55:00.004-06:00

You know what really bugs me? Well, I mean besides when the pizza guy takes too long to get to my house?

It's those stupid forwards that I get in my e-mail that share some religious story, often kind of sappy or sentimental, and then say something like "If you really believe in God/love Jesus/are a true Christian then you will forward this e-mail to all of your friends."

I don't like them at all. For a couple of reasons.

First, I don't like them because they are based on shame. They are shaming people into forwarding them. What they are telling people is if they don't send them on, then they must not really believe in God or love Jesus or be a Christian. As if their identity as a child of God is somehow dependent on clicking the "forward" link and sending that silly message on to others.

I think we have enough stuff in our lives telling us that we are not good enough, that we are somehow not living up to what we should be. We don't need some silly little chain letter putting its voice in the mix to heap more shame and guilt and "not good enoughs" on us.

And they're lying. Absolutely lying. Because our identity as children of God is in no way determined by our ability or willingness to send an e-mail. In fact, our identity as children of God is in no way determined by anything that we could do, have done, will do, might do or could ever do. It has already been determined by God through Jesus Christ. We are children of God because God loves us. Not because of our abilities or choices or circumstances.

Second, I don't like them because they have got it all wrong. They say that if you love Jesus/believe in God/are a true Christian then you should show it by forwarding that e-mail. I'm sorry, but there are TONS, no MILLIONS of better ways to do that. How about moving away from the computer and actually reaching out and helping someone. Share a smile. Do a good deed. Help a friend. Help a stranger. Serve in a soup kitchen. Volunteer at a food pantry. Shovel your neighbor's sidewalk. Mow their lawn. Donate your money to a worthy cause. I could keep going. The thing is, if we were to create a list of ways to prove that you believe in God/love Jesus/are a true Christian if forwarding an e-mail was even on it, it would most likely be near the bottom. Jesus told us that if we love him that we are to feed his sheep and that whatever we do to the least of these we do to him. Those who are hungry and poor and lonely and sick and broken-hearted and homeless and abused and addicted could probably care less if we sent a sappy little story to all of our friends. They would probably appreciate a friendly smile, a kind word and a helping hand a lot more.

And besides, if you DO forward that e-mail and then go on to share in some gossip, or ignore the needs of your neighbor, it gives people a much clearer idea of what is important to you, anyway.

back when i was a parent

2010-02-22T14:43:00.002-06:00

I haven't blogged in a while. Not because I haven't had anything worth blogging about it's just that things happen, my life gets busy, I guess the blog sometimes gets pushed to the background. But the thing is, I usually like blogging when I actually sit down and do it. So that's why I keep coming back. Hopefully you do, too.

Today I opened a package from a ministry organization that has a child sponsorship program. They included a packet of cards with the pictures of the children and information about them. I don't currently sponsor a child through a program like that because I've heard stories such as not much of the money you send actually goes to the child, and that multiple people have pictures of the same child (although I guess that part doesn't matter, as long as money is going to the child I have a picture of, do I really care if it's mine or someone else's?).

But in college two of my best friends and I sponsored a child through a similar program. His name was Albeiro and he was from somewhere in South America. I want to say Colombia. Anyway, we took his picture with us everywhere. We'd seat belt him into the car with us and we'd goof around and talk to him like he was a real child.

One evening we decided to go on an outing to Perkins, a local 24 hour restaurant. Of course Albeiro came along with us AND he got his own seat in the booth (but we didn't ask for a booster). We got to eating and talking and having a good time and then we got up to leave. When we got back to our dorm, we realized Albeiro was not with us. We had left him at the restaurant!

My friend Peter called the restaurant and started to explain that we had left our child there, failing to mention to the woman that he was a 5x7 piece of paper. When the woman on the other end of the phone started to freak out, Peter realized what was happening and told her that Albeiro wasn't an actual child (at least the Albeiro in the restaurant). The woman, much relieved, said that they did, indeed, find Albeiro and would hold him until we got back to get him.

I'm not quite sure what happened to little Albeiro. As they do, our friendships changed and we no longer spent as much time together as we did. We graduated and moved on to other places and things. I know that I did not end up with custody of Albeiro, and I'm not sure which one my friends did. Who knows, maybe they still are sponsoring him and taking him for nice drives and out to eat...

Bound together and tightly woven

2010-01-17T12:20:00.002-06:00

Today proved for me, once again, how our faith makes us a family.

My senior pastor has been very gracious with me these past few days, allowing me opportunity to grieve and to process my feelings. Today, before worship, he approached me and said that he was going to talk about the earthquake in Haiti, but he would not say anything publicly about Ben and Renee and Jon, that he would leave that for me to share with others as I saw fit.

As he finished talking about Haiti, he then asked if there were any more announcements. That was when I knew I needed to say something. I said I had something to share and then I told my congregation about my friends. I shared what I know and asked for prayers and then I sat down.

Afterward, many people shared their condolences with me. They said they had seen the story of Ben on the news and had been worrying and praying for him and his family. A few said that they remembered him from my ordination service when he, Jon, Renee and our friend Elly sang (I wish I knew how to get video off of the DVD and into a format that I can share online, it's a wonderful song made even more beautiful by my friends singing it). Almost everyone who spoke to me about this said that they were praying for me, as well, and if I needed anything to let them know.

This is what the Church is supposed to be, I thought. A family. People who care for one another, who bear one another's burdens, who reach out in times of grief and tragedy, who celebrate together in times of joy. A family of people, bound together and tightly woven with the love of God that is revealed to us in Christ Jesus, the love that we are called to share with others. The love that calls us, compels us, to help our brothers and sisters in Haiti and around the world who are suffering.

It also proved to me, again, how small and tightly woven this ELCA world is, too. A member of my congregation told me that her brother is a pastor and that he went to college with Judd, Ben's father. Another woman said that her daughter was college roomates with Liz, Jon Larson's sister. There is another family whose brother-in-law is a pastor near LaCrosse, Wisconsin and knows the Larsons that way. This shows how small and interconnected we truly are as Christians and as Lutherans.

And those are both things that I need right now. I need to know that I belong to a Family who cares, who is willing and able to reach out and care for those who are in our midst but who are also compelled to care for those in other places and countries who are in need of help. And I need to belong to a community that reaches beyond time and geography to be together. A community who, in the face of a world that can seem big and harsh, reminds me of how close and personal we really are as Children of God.

And Ben, you have reminded me of both of these things.

Godspeed, good friend.

2010-01-14T17:22:00.003-06:00

A friend and fellow seminarian, Ben Larson, is presumed to have died in the Haiti earthquake. He was over there with his wife, Renee, and cousin, Jon. They are all good friends of mine and sang at my ordination service. I'm still struggling to accept this whole thing. It doesn't seem real.

The article from CNN is here.

It's hard to find the words in situations like this. So I turned to some that have already been written.

Why I Do Not Like Raccoons

2009-12-24T00:48:00.004-06:00

This is an attempt at video blogging, or Vlogging. Let me know what you think!

Sermon for 12/13/09

2009-12-13T15:01:00.005-06:00

I am not one to normally post my sermons online. It kind of makes me nervous. But I got a lot of response from this one that I preached this morning. And so I thought maybe if it could be a blessing to others, then I'd go ahead and post it on my blog.

The texts for today (that I use for this sermon)are Zephaniah 3:14-20 and Luke 3:7-18

At least when we read the Gospel for today, we get some reassurance that we aren’t the only ones who get it wrong.

John the Baptist was quite a guy. He dressed in camel hair, his diet consisted of bugs and honey, and he lived out in the desert by himself. He was a fiery and passionate man who wasn’t afraid to speak out and make a scene. He saw the injustice of the Roman empire, he witnessed what he believed to be spiritual weakness among the people who he was baptizing, and he was not afraid to call them out.

So in today’s Gospel, he’s preaching at the people gathered and he’s really kind of giving them the business. I mean he starts by comparing the people there to a bunch of poisonous snakes. Now, I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t take that as a compliment. Then he tells that that just because they say that they belong to Abraham, just because they claim to be a part of that promise that God made to Abraham way back in the book of Genesis, that won’t be enough to save them.

He says that the ax is laying at the foot of the tree and any one that doesn’t bear good fruit will get cut down and tossed into the fire. He’s telling those people that they are one step away from being punished. They had better get their act together or, like that tree, they are going to be cut down and thrown into the fire.

And if they think he’s bad then they’ve got another thing coming. John starts to warn them of one who is coming who will be even tougher than he is. John tells them he just baptizes them with water, but there is one who is coming who will baptize them with fire. John compares the one who is to come like someone who works in a granary separating the chafe from the wheat, separating the worthless part of the plant from the important grain. He tells the people that this one who is coming will take those who are the grain, the ones who are considered important, and will gather them to himself. But those who are the chafe, those who are worthless and unimportant, will be tossed into unquenchable fire.

John is expecting the coming Messiah to be a take no prisoners kind of guy. Either you are good and important and worth keeping, or you are bad and unimportant and you’re gonna burn. John was definitely not expecting the kind of Messiah that we got.

Jesus was not born to powerful and important people. Jesus was born to a poor, young couple who could only find a barn for shelter. The only people who showed up for his arrival were dirty shepherds and wise men from a faraway land who would have been considered unbelievers.

And then, when Jesus and John meet for the first time, Jesus wants John to baptize him. John tries to say it should be the other way around, but Jesus persists, and so John, who claimed he wouldn’t even be worthy enough to tie the sandals of the coming Messiah ends up baptizing him in the river.

But John is excited, and he thinks that now that Jesus is around things are going to start happening. So John goes after King Herod, who was not a good king. He was too close with the oppressive Roman army. King Herod was benefitting from the oppression of his own people and John is sure that now that Jesus is around, it’s gonna stop. John goes after Herod and ends up getting arrested, and he realizes that Jesus isn’t fighting back. Jesus wasn’t there to back him up, he didn’t come as reinforcements. So John has to send a couple of his followers to Jesus to ask him if he really is the Messiah. Are you the one we’ve been waiting for, they ask. Or should we wait for another?

But Jesus was the Messiah. He just wasn’t the kind of Messiah that people were expecting. He came to save his people, but not with a winnowing fork like John said. He didn’t come to gather some people up but send the rest off to be condemned. Jesus came so that no one would need to be condemned. He took the punishment that was meant for us. Jesus took our sins and died on the cross for us, so that we might escape the unquenchable fire. Our Messiah came not to save some and condemn the rest, but he came to be condemned so that the rest of us might be saved.

Today is the third Sunday of Advent. Advent is a time of hope and of expectation. It’s a time where we remember how the people long ago hoped for and expected the promised Messiah to come and save them. And it’s also a time when we hope and expect for Jesus to come again. But Advent is also a time of surprise. Because the people long ago were surprised by the Messiah that they got. Just like John, the people were expecting someone different. So when the Messiah showed up, and he didn’t look or act like they were expecting, they were shocked and surprised.

As we journey through Advent and wait for the big Christmas celebration, when we celebrate the birth of Jesus, I think we’d be shocked and surprised at how many times we come across Jesus and don’t recognize him.

You see, it’s because we’re like John. We expect Jesus to be like us, to look like us and to act like us. Of course he will like the same things and the same people that we like, and of course he won’t like the same things and the same people that we don’t like. We expect Jesus to believe the same things we believe, to support the same causes that we support, and to make us feel comfortable and safe and warm and fuzzy.

But the truth is, more often than not, Jesus looks like the people we would least expect. He looks like a homeless person on the street begging for money, or a teenager with strange hair and facial piercings. He looks like a single mother in the welfare line, or a gay man dying of AIDS. He looks like a gang member, or an Arab, or a starving child, or an elderly person suffering from dementia. He comes to us as an abused woman, or a man suffering from addiction. He comes to us with tattoos and a big beard and riding on a motorcycle. He comes to us with skin that is a different color than ours, speaking a language other than English.

These are ways that Jesus comes to us. And more often than not, these are times we ignore him because he’s not what we were expecting. We get so caught up in who we think Jesus ought to be that we miss him when he is right next to us. We get so caught up in what we think Jesus ought to say that we fail to hear him when he is speaking right to us. And we get so caught up in what we think Jesus ought to do that we miss all the wonderful things that he is doing around us and through us.

Advent is a time of hope and expectation. But it is also a time of surprise. Our God is a God who surprises us, who comes to us unexpectedly, who is revealed in ways we would not expect, and loves us in ways we could never deserve. Our God is a God who is coming to gather us all together, not like John proclaimed where some were saved and others sent to the fire, but our God will gather us together the way that the prophet Zephaniah proclaimed in the Old Testament reading, where God will gather us all together, every one of us, including the lame and the outcast, and God will change our shame into praise and renown in all the earth.

This is the God who is coming for us, and this is the God we wait for during Advent, and this is the God who is revealed to us every day. Amen.

snow day!

2009-12-09T13:14:00.002-06:00

So, we were on the northern edge of the big huge snowstorm that has been blowing across the midwest. We were not far enough south to get hit as hard as many of the places, like Nebraska and Iowa, but we were far enough south that school was cancelled today! It's a snow day!

So that means that all of our Wednesday activities here at church have been cancelled. Well, at least our youth activities. I guess our bell choir and worship choir are still planning to meet for rehearsal tonight. So, my entire evening isn't free (I sing with the worship choir) but all of the stuff that I am responsible for has been put on hold.

Because of that, I have a day free when I normally would spend it making sure everything is ready for Confirmation. Of course that doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I have a wedding this weekend, and I preach on Sunday, so there is plenty that I COULD be doing. But, as I sit here in my office, basking in the warmth of the space heater and drinking a nice, warm cup of coffee, I can't help but look out the window at the snowy, white, picturesque scenery.

That makes me remember the snow days of my childhood when it meant that, as soon as we were done eating breakfast, we'd pile on our winter coats and our snowpants and our hats and mittens and gloves and scarves and boots and we'd charge out of the house and burrow through the snow. We'd build snow forts and snow men and we'd make snowballs and mercilessly pelt each other with them. We'd play outside, free from the restrictions and work of a school day, until we couldn't feel our noses or fingers and then we'd charge back in the house, leaving our cold and wet coats and boots in a pile by the door. Then we'd traipse into the kitchen with our red faces and runny noses and make hot chocolate with those little marshmallows floating in them. Then we'd spend the rest of the day inside the warm house watching TV and relaxing. It was a great way to spend a snow day!

Now my snow day consists of bundling myself up and charging out of the house to cross the street and go into the church. Instead of snow forts and snow men to build I have sermons to write and meetings to plan. Instead of hot chocolate with marshmallows I'm drinking hazelnut coffee. It's definitely not a bad way to spend a snow day. It does have its benefits. But part of me really does want to go outside and build a snow fort. Wanna help?

Happy 40th Anniversary, Sesame Street!

2009-11-10T19:39:00.003-06:00

Sesame Street turns 40 today. One of the most innovative, and the longest running, shows for kids. So to celebrate, I recorded another ukulele video! Hurrah!

It probably could have gone better

2009-11-08T12:30:00.003-06:00

I think my problems started when I woke to my alarm with a start, with a deep fear in my stomach that I was supposed to have written a sermon for today. I lay there, gripping my pillow, eyes wide with fear. Then I realized that I wasn't preaching, so I tried to go back to sleep for a bit. But that wasn't successful.

Well, I guess I could say that they started before that. I had this long, graphic dream about going to the dentist. Now, many of you know I'm not a fan of the dentist. And the dentist has, historically, not been a fan of me. In fact, in grade school I actually had one refuse to see me anymore. Yeah, so that's kind of my deal with the dentist. But I had a dream about it which involved a lot of drilling and a lot of time spent in the dentist chair and all sorts of yummy goodness.

But enough about that. Over at church, the first service didn't go so badly. I managed to do all of my responsibilities well. But, in between the services, I was in the kitchen talking with the group of confirmation kids that were in charge of coffee hour. As I was talking to a couple of the parents, I leaned forward against the counter, only to notice a couple of minutes later that I was leaning against a wet towel. I moved backward, looked down, and saw a large wet spot on the front of my pants, in an especially inconvenient area. So I had to walk around like that for a while.

Then, when we were getting ready for the next service, I put my robe on. Now, the way you put my robe on is you slip it on like a coat or a jacket, and then there are snaps on the shoulders that hold it in place. Then, near the waist there is a string on each side so you can tie the robe and help it stay in place that way, too. As I was tying the strings, one pulled completely off of the robe. Luckily, with the shoulder snaps and then also with the cincture (rope belt) that I wear, it managed to stay in place. But it was an inconvenience.

As I was getting ready to set up communion, during the service, I thought I should use some hand sanitizer. So I stepped off into the sacristy (room right off of the altar area) and took a squirt of hand sanitizer. Only it didn't shoot down, as it should, instead it arced upward, spraying my sleeve and then the front of my robe. Luckily, it's almost all completely alcohol and so it evaporates quickly, but I still had to go out and preside over communion with a large wet blotch on the front of my robe. I'm fairly certain no one really noticed, but I certainly knew it was there.

Overall, despite these small snafus, I think things went well. The Gospel was proclaimed, sins were announced as forgiven, 5th graders participated in their first communion, a baby was baptized, and I had a chocolate cupcake. God was, is and always will be Good.

So I'm going to enjoy a nice relaxing afternoon. I hope you do, as well.

In all fairness

2009-11-07T21:13:00.004-06:00

I should say something about our synod youth event adventure. We ended up leaving on schedule, despite a couple junior high girls who seemed to try their best to prevent us from doing so. We waited as long as we could and just as I was getting ready to leave them behind, there they were on the bus.

We made it up to the city without hitting much traffic, and got to our parking spot at the convention center with no problems. We were one of the first groups there, and it was pretty easy to register and find our seats. Now, looking at the map of the facility, and seeing that our seats were in the bleachers, did not give me an accurate picture of how far away we'd actually be. Thankfully, we were much closer. The people on the stage were actually several inches tall rather than only one.

The speakers were good, of course I am biased, as one is a good friend. He did a good job preaching the Gospel, if I may say so. My kids wanted his autograph. The other speaker was from Malawi and is doing great work providing clean water for the people over there. However, with his accent it was a bit hard to understand what he was saying. They showed a video of him first, and it was with English subtitles and that was easy to follow along with. But then when he came on stage and began to talk, I found myself getting lost and not being able to understand everything he was saying. Then, at the end of his talk, he opened it up for questions. In an auditorium with 500 or so kids in it. Probably not the greatest idea, but I'm not sure if he was used to speaking to such a large group of people.

The musician was fairly good. I've heard good things about her, and so I wanted to like her more than I did. She seemed very folksy and artsy, and shared some of her own original music about water and the need for clean water. I like folk music, so I'm not saying this because I didn't like her style of music. I just think if you are with a large auditorium of junior high aged kids, the best way to keep them paying attention and engaged is to sing songs that they can sing along with, either songs they already know or songs that are easy to learn and catchy. Her songs were good, and they had a good message, but a few bars in and my kids were fidgeting and whispering.

They had a group of youth dancers that performed a couple of times, too. They did this last year and my kids loved it. They were instantly engaged. Last year the music was a little faster and heavier and the dance moves were more hip hop. This year, the music was slow and the dancing was slower and more interpretive. Once again, it was hard for my kids to stay engaged with what was happening.

In conversation with a friend, we agreed that we weren't very keen about the presentation of the theology of the event, either. The theme was about water, and right from the beginning they started listing statistics and facts about water and bottled water and how that affects our environment and wildlife. They also talked about providing clean water for people in other countries. It was water, water, water,Jesus. It should have been Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, water. We conserve our resources and we share out of our abundance and we help others receive the blessings of clean water because of Jesus and what he has done for us. We help quench others' physical thirst because Jesus has quenched our spiritual thirst. But it seemed like the event was more focused on recycling and using reusable bottles, which is important - don't get me wrong - but it should have just been secondary to the Gospel message, not primary.

Now, I don't like to be someone who just states the negatives about something and doesn't do anything to make the event better. In fact, a year or so ago, I was supposed to be a part of the team that helped plan this event because I had spoken up about my concerns. However, the group kept planning meetings for days and times that were not convenient for me, and they also planned them at places where it would take nearly two hours out of my day just for driving time. I don't say that as a strike against them, just as a reality of my current situation.

So, I was thinking of how I would do the event differently. I think I would keep the dancers, just speed up the tempo a bit. I'd have musicians, just switch up the music a tad. Make it a little quicker, a little more upbeat, a little more catchy and singable. I'd switch up the speakers, a bit. Instead of two blocks of two speakers, maybe have each speaker split their speech into two parts, interspersing a song or a video or something in between. And maybe hear from someone who is closer to the age of the youth. Don't get me wrong, adults are smart and important, and it's good for the kids to hear the Gospel message shared well from an adult (especially my friend), but I have noticed that if the person who is talking is younger and closer in age and experience to the kids, they tend to listen more.

One of the words in the title of the event is "celebration." I think, then, that I'd focus more on celebrating. Have a good time. Play some loud music. Get the kids dancing and singing. Have fun. Make them laugh. Share the Gospel in an engaging and age appropriate way. Make the Gospel message the focus. Build off of that.

That's what I'd do, anyway.

Adventures in Synod Wide Youth Events

2009-11-02T08:58:00.002-06:00

So, this coming Wednesday we head up to The Cities for a big youth event. It's an annual event put on by both synods for Confirmation aged youth. This will be my fourth time attending, and I'm always trying to decide whether it's worth the effort or not to go there.

You see, we are in one of the more remote churches included in the Minneapolis Synod. We are about as far southwest as you can get and still be in the boundaries. This event is held at 6:00pm, usually at an auditorium in St Paul. If you factor in traffic, that means we have to leave here by about 4:30 to get there on time. This also means that we have to figure out some way to feed the kids after school before we leave, which means we have to get the kids to come to church right after school. Last year we went with our normal meal of pizza, and asked the pizza place we work with to deliver the pizza earlier than normal. Except they forgot. So we scrambled and called them and they delivered it about 30 minutes late.

Three out of the four years we have gone we have also been assigned seats in the nosebleed section. The one year we weren't was because it was at a different (closer) venue and there weren't really assigned seats. So we end up going to all of this trouble, spending close to an hour and a half on the bus in traffic, so that we can sit way up in the balcony and watch performers and speakers that look about an inch tall to us.

Now, I know what you are saying: Get your registration in early. My response to that is that I have. The first year I went we sat in the nosebleeds so the second year I sent it back right away. Pretty much the day after I received the registration form in the mail. We still got put in the nosebleeds. I'm not quite sure how they figure that seating stuff out. Maybe they arrange the seats to resemble where we are geographically within the synod. That would make sense, then, that we would be put so far away from the stage.

I want to be a team player. I want to support synod-wide ministry because, to me, there really isn't a lot of that here. We are a big synod of big congregations that don't often play well with each other. So I want to be a part of the stuff that we DO do together (yes, I'm aware I said do do). But part of me wonders if it's worth the hassle. By the time we get there we have 40 junior highers who have been forced to sit in the same place for more than an hour, who are then expected to sit in the same place and listen to speakers and musicians for another hour or two, usually in a place so far away from the performers that it's hard for them to become engaged. Several of my returning adult volunteers have suggested we not do it. But I've said I think it's good, or I want to give it another try, or maybe this year it will be different. But it has yet to do or be those things.

This year we are going because one of my best friends in the entire world happens to be one of the speakers. I survived my first year of seminary because of him, I went to Disney World with him and his family, I lived with them in Duluth when I did my Clinical Pastoral Education at the hospital there, he preached at my ordination. I think he will be a good speaker and the kids will like him. Unfortunately he'll be an inch tall.

Last year it happened to be at a venue in Minneapolis, which was a lot closer than the normal auditorium. We got started late but ended up getting there at a decent time. We got decent seats close to the stage. The kids could actually see the people performing. They stood and clapped and had a good time. So I know the event can be worthwhile, which is why I keep giving it chances and keep going. Hopefully this year's event will be another good one.

I'll let you know.

a new hobby

2009-10-24T18:18:00.001-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, in conversation with another church nerd type friend, I decided I was going to try a new hobby. So, under her guidance (as she's a pretty great player) I picked out a new ukulele and, since then, I have been practicing and recording videos about once a week. Here is my latest one, for your viewing pleasure!!!

Whatever you did to the least of these, you did to me...

2009-10-23T20:09:00.003-05:00

I don't remember how I got introduced to the writing of Henri Nouwen. I think, being a church person and friends with other church nerd types, I just sort of fell into it. But at once I was drawn to his openness. Especially in the book Wounded Healer he talks about the need to embrace our own weaknesses, our own wounds and hurts, and in so doing we are able to reach out to others in healing. It is in embracing our own places of hurt that we are able to minister to others in their places of hurt.

I am not a perfect person. Far from it, in fact. I have never been very good at pretending to be something I'm not. I've not been very good at pretending to have it all together, or to be perfect or to be extremely self-confident. These things are not always who I am, and I have tried to be honest about that as much as I could. So to read Henri Nouwen, who is honest about his own faults and issues, was refreshing.

In his writings he often speaks of his time spent living at L'Arche Daybreak in Ontario. L'Arche is a community centered around people with developmental disabilities. These people are at the heart of the communities of L'Arche, and so they are called core members. Then there are assistants who live in the communities, as well. They don't just come and spend 8 hours a day, or overnight, at the house. But they strive to make a life in the communities, living and working with the core members and helping them to live a full and meaningful life. I was particularly touched by Nouwen's book Adam: God's Beloved, which chronicled his time spent with Adam, a young man who was a core member at Daybreak.

Since then I've expanded my reading on L'Arche, and I've started reading some of the works of Jean Vanier, who is the founder of the L'Arche movement. I don't know that he was planning on starting something that would someday include 135 member communities in 36 countries and include 5,000 people with and without developmental disabilities who would be sharing their lives together. I think he was just reaching out to two men with developmental disabilities in the town where he lived in France, hoping to offer them a better life than the one they had previously been living in an institutional setting.

But, regardless of what his intentions were, that is what L'Arche is today. It's an international community of people who believe that people with developmental disabilities are exactly that - people. They aren't just a burden, or just people that we need to take care of, but they are people with gifts and wisdom and love to offer.

To me, the more I read about it, L'Arche seems to be an embodiment of the Gospel as Jesus preached it and lived it. The broken, the sick, the weak and lowly ones, are blessed. They are where we meet Jesus face to face. It is in the places and among the people that society often ignores or despises where we will interact with Jesus. It is in reaching out to these people where our own hearts will be transformed.

"Every child, every person, needs to know they are a source of joy; every child, every person, needs to be celebrated." -- Jean Vanier

Watch my head spin!

2009-10-13T18:13:00.002-05:00

The other day I pulled down the old Occasional Services book from my shelf. That's the book that has various services that we don't do as often in the church, so we do them occasionally... hence the title. You can find the service for a Funeral in there, or blessings for various occasions. I didn't need it for any of those things. No, my friends. I needed it for something far more dire.

An exorcism.

Unfortunately, I did not find what I needed. So, I'm afraid that my house is still being tormented by an evil spirit. An evil spirit with fangs and claws and yellow eyes that seem to glow in the dark. An evil spirit in the form of...

a kitten.

You see, several months ago I decided to adopt a kitten. So I got this furry little guy, and I named him Winston, and he was a little crazy but he soon mellowed out (I think after his most recent visit to the vet, where they did a little snip, was what really did it). But a couple months ago I decided I needed to get Winston a friend, and a family from church just happened to have a cat that had kittens. So I went over to their house and met the three kittens and picked out the one I wanted, and a few weeks later she showed up at my door. When she was born, the family thought she might be a boy so they named her Stewart. Then they found out she was, in fact, a girl but the name stuck. I thought it was cute, so I kept it.

For the first few days she was adorable. She was still checking out the place, and she was a little afraid, so I'd find her huddled under blankets or in little nooks and crannies. But she soon adjusted to me and the house and Winston.

And that, my friends, is when all hell broke loose.

She is constantly knocking things off of shelves and off of the table. If there is one place she shouldn't be, that is where I will find her. I was emptying the dishwasher the other day, I opened it up turned my back for a second and when I turned around she was already trying to climb in. She spends most of her time hanging from the curtains and when she's not doing that she's trying to shred the couch or devour my shoes. She mercilessly chases Winston through the house. I have a scratches on my arm from her that look like they could have come from a mountain lion. For a while she refused to use the litter box and decided to relieve herself in as many places that weren't her litter box as she could. I woke up one morning to see that she had knocked a houseplant off of a shelf and proceeded to spread the dirt all over the dining room floor. I mean all over. It was like wall to wall carpeting but with dirt. And if that wasn't enough, that same morning I went to put on the sweater I had laid out and she apparently had decided that was the best place to pee that morning. Friends told me that to discourage her bad behavior I should use a spray bottle full of water. So I tried that. It didn't really seem to deter her much, no matter how many times I would spray her. She'd be climbing the curtain, I'd spray her with the bottle and she would jump down and run away. Not two seconds later she would be back on the curtain, thrashing around as if she were in the fight of her life. So I would spray her again, this time twice rather than just once, and she'd retreat again. But just as soon as I sat back down she'd be back up on that curtain. Eventually, I'd have a soaking wet kitten who was still attacking the curtains. One of her worst offenses, however, is when she tore into a bag of my powdered sugar donuts and ate some of them. I know it was her because Winston refuses to eat anything that isn't his cat food. Stewart will eat just about anything. I've had to stop her from eating styrofoam peanuts.

The thing that really makes me believe she might be the devil is that she's so darn cute. Her little grey, fuzzy body and her cute white, fuzzy face. Her big eyes that look up at you and her cute little meow. You'd look at her and wonder how something that cute could ever do anything bad.

But that's just what she wants you to think.

full blast

2009-09-22T11:39:00.003-05:00

I haven't been the best at blogging lately.

So, here's a rundown of what has happened since last I've written.

Camp was good and great and a lot of fun. It was very different from the last time I was there, new buildings, new landscaping, new roads... I even got turned around at one point, which is something that has never happened and I never expected to happen. It was a little tough to see these changes, to know that camp is not the camp it was when I worked there. But people change, their expectations and needs change, the times change... camp has to change, too. It's a pretty great, state of the art facility there now, but in my conversation with the fulltime staff, they still have a deep love for camp, and the spirit has stayed the same.

Also while I was there I reconnected with some friends and met a few new ones. It's weird to see people that, when last we spent time together, they were young and single and now they have kids. I kind of attached myself to two of my friends, and their family. They said I became their fourth child that weekend. I got along quite well with their 9, 6 and 4 year old kids. We had a great time. After the reunion I got to spend some time with good friends who were unable to make it. We met up and had good italian food and sat on the deck and reminisced and shared stories of what is going on in our lives now.

Then I got back to church and work exploded in my face and I've been running around like a mad man trying to make sure everything is ready for the arrival of fall scheduling. And I feel like I'm barely treading water at this point. So I really shouldn't be blogging at all. But it's almost lunch time, so I think I can afford a couple minutes.

Confirmation has started, Sunday School has started, and we're trying to come up with some events and activities to get the high schoolers to stay active. We can get 25 or so to go on a mission trip in the summer, but we lose them during the year. Stupid school and extra curricular activities get in the way and kids give them priority over church. I sent an e-mail to a group of high schoolers asking what they'd like to see us offer here at church, what would they be interested in doing, and then I told them I miss them. Because I do. I can't spend a week with you, getting to know you and having a good time, and then all of the sudden stop seeing you and not miss you. It's not the way I work.

So now I have to finish planning Confirmation for tomorrow, plan the worship service for Sunday, and write my sermon. Maybe I should get on that.

on my way home

2009-09-02T15:10:00.002-05:00

This year marks the 12th anniversary of my first summer as a camp counselor. I know I've written about this numerous times, and if there are still any faithful followers of my blog they are probably tired of hearing the story. Or they could tell you it themselves.

But I, like a good portion of other professional ministry types, can trace my call to ministry back to those days as a camp counselor. I whole-heartedly believe that camp was what set that ball rolling, what ignited that spark inside me.

I ended up working there for three consecutive summers and then decided to enter the real world and become a youth minister. So I missed out on a summer, but then the following year is when I ended up leaving that congregation and I headed back out to camp for the second half of the summer. Immediately after that summer I moved up to seminary, took the scenic route through and graduated in five years, and then came to my current congregation where I have been for three years. It has been eight years since I worked as a camp counselor. It has been eight years since I had the opportunity to work at one of my favorite jobs ever. Sure, I've visited other camps, and I've done other work with youth. I've taken my confirmation kids to camp for a week every summer that I've been here. I have started serving on the Board of Directors for that camp (although they have a knack for scheduling meetings for when I am unable to attend...). But none of that has quite captured the magic of working as a summer camp counselor. There's that sense of community, of being united in a purpose, of enthusiasm and energy. And, of course, there is the fact that you're putting a bunch of college aged kids together for the summer. All sorts of craziness is bound to happen!

So, it's been eight years since I have worked as a camp counselor. And probably about half that since I have even visited. Much has changed since my glory days there. There is a new state of the art retreat center, the office building has been changed from a small, rambling house to a very nice and modern (yet with that camp vibe) resource center, and the retreat center that was well-loved and used before the new one was built has been renovated and added onto.

And now, eight years later, I am headed back. Not to work or to spend the summer, but just for a couple of days. They are having a celebration of their 30 years of ministry, and they are hosting a big event and inviting all the past staff to come and celebrate. I am excited. I have been looking forward to this day since they had their 20th anniversary celebration and reunion in 1999, when I was a counselor. I cannot wait to be in that place, to set my feet on that holy ground, to breathe in that air and to reacquaint myself with this place that has meant so much to me.

I've also been asked if I would share a message during a campfire one evening. I have done this before... but at other camps. And this campfire is taking place at one of my favorite places at camp, a place that I remember being as a counselor and listening as pastors and youth directors got up and shared reflections and messages during the summers. And now I will be the one standing in the middle, in that same spot, sharing a message with those gathered. I know it will go well, but I am still nervous!!!

I head out tomorrow to drive back to Nebraska. I will be visiting family for a couple days before I make my way to camp. I'm not sure if I'll be able to wait that long, though, and I might stop in on my way through. But you can expect another update about my time and perhaps even pictures! I am sure I will take plenty!

the promised follow up

2009-08-16T23:10:00.003-05:00

I said, in my previous blog post, that I was going to post more about my experience with the Denver Rescue Mission. What better time to do that then the day before I leave on another trip when I should be packing or going to bed? I'm not sure I can think of one!

We were only there for two short days, but they impacted all of us. I'm not sure I can adequately put into words the effect that this experience had on me. But I will definitely try.

Let me start by telling you the basics - what we did while we were there. As soon as we got there, which was around 10, we got to work getting ready for lunch. Some of us chopped fruits and vegetables for fruit salads and lettuce salads. Some of us made lemonade or cut pork and potatoes. Some of us sorted bread and desserts. Some of us rolled silverware into napkins. Some of us also spent time in the laundry room folding sheets. But we kept working and moving doing stuff to get ready for lunch. Then we got everything in place so that we could begin serving when 12:00 rolled around. As soon as it did, we opened the doors and began ushering people in to eat.

When lunch started, I was in charge of handing out silverware and using a clicker to count how many people came in. We served five at a time, so I'd pick up five pieces of silverware and hand them out as the people walked in, and then I'd click the clicker 5 times. This gave me a great opportunity to chat with the people as they entered. We didn't really have time to talk about much, but we'd talk about the weather, or the food, or how it was important to have a clicker to keep track of numbers. We served more than a hundred people each day, I think the second day had more with around 170. The other people working there said that they were slow days, that they usually had over 200 people coming in for lunch.

When lunch was over, we'd clean up and then go back to working on other things. The first day we were there, they got a huge donation of food so I spent a lot of time sorting bread. We'd separate them into categories such as sandwich bread, french bread, hot dog buns, hamburger buns, etc. and then we'd stack them on pallets against the wall. At one point I said that I was surrounded by more bread than I'd ever seen in one place in my life. Our second day we went out and got a tour of the neighborhood and picked up garbage.

It was surprising to me how much of the work we did surrounded food. We were always chopping and mixing and sorting and slicing and getting stuff ready for the different meals. But then I guess that makes sense, that if they feed 150-200 people three times a day, that a lot of work would go in to preparing the food. And it was good food. We would make sack lunches everyday, but when we were at the Mission we were given the option to eat there for lunch. Both days I chose that option, and I was pleasantly surprised with the food. It was good, considering how much of it they made everyday. If we didn't eat our sack lunch, we had the option of taking it across the street to Triangle Park and sharing it with the people who were over there.

Denver Rescue Mission also has a residential drug rehabilitation program as part of its ministries and we worked alongside of the men in this program in our daily duties. It was amazing, and eye opening, to hear the stories of these guys, what they had gone through, often times how they had almost died, and then how they had ended up at the mission and how they were working to turn their lives around and what their dreams and hopes were now. One guy I got to know quite well said that he hoped to be a youth pastor in a church, so that he could work with kids who were the age he was when he fell into drug abuse. It was awesome to hear these stories of resurrection and redemption, and I hope that these guys continue on the path toward new life.

One thing that hit me after seeing the people that the Mission serves is how alike we were. Many of them had good jobs and families and friends before something unpredictable happened, before circumstances in their life took a turn for the worse and they were unable to cope or to recover from them, and then they ended up homeless and living in Denver. It's like that quote, "There but for the grace of God go I." As I looked around at all of those various faces and people, I realized that I was lucky to be on the other side of that crate of silverware. I was fortunate to be the one handing it out. But I could very easily be on the other side, as the one receiving it. Life is unpredictable. You never know when you might get thrown a curveball.

It's like I said before, I don't think I can adequately put into words the effect that those two days had, and continues to have, on me. Those experiences continue to weigh on my heart, and continue to make me ponder and pray about a lot of things. I'm not sure what this means for my journey, but it will be interesting to find out.

i have returned!

2009-08-08T14:05:00.003-05:00

I came.

I saw.

I'm tired.

We returned from our mission trip to Denver today. As in about 4 hours ago. It was quite the experience. Allow me to tell you a bit about it.

We set off last Sunday at 4am. We took three 15 passenger vans (one with a rear seat taken out to allow for extra storage space), a trailer and a car. The car came along because one of our adults had a relative who was not doing well and she brought her car just in case something should happen during the week and she would need to come back for a funeral.

We drove through southwest Minnesota, northwest Iowa, most of Nebraska and eastern Colorado. In my van, we were excited because for the beginning part of the ride we were ahead of schedule. That meant we might actually make it to one of our mission trips early, instead of rolling in right at the last minute when they are wanting to start serving supper. And we were doing good until about lunchtime when we were in Nebraska and were wanting to stop at a Runza, which is one of my favorite restaurants and are only found in Nebraska, except for a few other locations (like, four) in Iowa, Kansas and Colorado. It wasn't even my idea to stop there, it was another adult leader in my van. So that made me even happier.

So on our way to Runza we noticed one of our vans was not following us. Turns out that the people in that van had to use the restroom, so the driver had pulled off assuming we'd continue to follow the directions we had printed out, not realizing we were planning on a lunch stop. So about 45ish minutes later they arrived at the restaurant and ordered their food. So much for being ahead of schedule.

After driving through Nebraska, and eastern Colorado, and after a few more restroom breaks (a few too many, if you ask me) we rolled into the church parking lot right when they were wanting to start serving supper. It never fails. This is our way, apparently.

After supper we had an adult orientation meeting (I knew what was going to happen. This is my third mission trip through this organization. I'm an old pro.) and then we had to assign our youth and adults to work crews. I knew that one of the sites was the Denver Rescue Mission, and I desperately wanted to go there, so I made sure I was the adult assigned from our church to that crew. Then we placed everyone else in a fairly quick and random way. Our main criteria was not putting large groups of friends in the same crew. This turned out to be a fairly serendipitous process. How's that for a big word?

Then after our meeting we went downstairs for Club (singing and listening to a speaker) and then church group time before heading for bed. Then Monday began our work days. And Monday is the day I first ventured to the Denver Rescue Mission. This was an amazing experience, which I'm still processing and thinking about, and it will get a post of its own. So no more about that now.

Monday night we ended up heading to Lookout Mountain, in the foothills of the Rockies, for some fun and we also had club out there. It was a great experience for the kids, many of whom had not been to mountains before, and even those that had enjoyed it. I love mountains so I was happy to be there, as well.

Tuesday I went back to the Denver Rescue Mission in the morning, and then in the evening we had guest speakers come and talk to us. The main guy used to work at the Denver Rescue Mission and I think all of the other guys had gone through the Mission and shared their experiences of being homeless and/or addicted to drugs. The kids were mesmerized by the speakers and I got a chance to talk with the main guy afterwards for a bit. It was good to talk to him and to process some things that I had experienced.

Wednesday we changed work sites and worked with Brothers' Redevelopment, which is an organization in Denver that works with elderly, disabled and low income people to help them do things that they are either unable to do or cannot afford. So Wednesday we drove over to an older couples' house and painted the trim on their house for them. This took us until about 11am. I guess we finished much earlier than they were expecting, and so we spent most of the rest of the morning and afternoon in the car. After eating our lunch we set out to join the other crew who was working with Brothers that day, but due to an accident on the highway, and our foreman trying to avoid it, it took us nearly an hour to get to the other crew. So we filled in for them painting a stucco house while they took a break and ate their lunches. Then we went back to wash off our brushes and unload the truck before going to take our daily showers.

Now providing showers for this many people can be tricky, I know. Often times they rely on community centers and schools to open their spaces to them for such reasons. The first two days we showered at a community center in communal showers. When we switched work sites we were told that we would need to go to a different facility for showers. This was a recreation center and we had been told that the showers were private. So we were excited about this. When we walked into the locker room, we were greeted by a small, cramped room with about an inch of standing water on the floor. About five young boys had come in from the pool and were just standing under the four nozzles of the shower, which was very much communal and not at all private. As we stood there, after our long and frustrating day, wanting nothing more than to take a shower, we stood there and looked at these boys in defeat and disappointment. But, we showered, and were thankful for a shower, and then we went to a Sonic Drive-In for food afterwards. I thought the kids in my crew deserved it.

That night we went to a church service at a local congregation. It was packed full of kids and parents and was abnormally hot. Us poor Minnesotans thought we were going to melt. They had a lot of music provided by young men and women from the congregation, and they had some really great young dancers strut their stuff. The outreach pastor got up and shared a message which was good, although I was a little disappointed in him because, in an attempt to get the kids to be quiet during his message, he said, "Remember, no talking when I'm talking. If I see you talking while I am trying to talk I will embarrass you." Nothing better than embarrassing a kid to get them excited to go to church.

On the way back to the church, I witnessed an automobile accident. The jeep in front of us (luckily a little ways in front of us) hit the front end of a car that had pulled out into the intersection too far. I just happened to glance up and see it right as it happened, and I said, "Holy S***, Kirk, that was just an accident!" The driver hadn't noticed it right away and he slammed on the brakes. Yes, I admit I cursed, but I had just witnessed an accident. And besides, the kids in my car didn't hear it. I got out and saw that everyone was ok, and we waited around for the fire fighters and police officers to arrive. Because I hadn't seen enough of what had happened prior to the accident I didn't need to stick around very long, but it was long enough for the staff members and our other church members to drive by and see the firetrucks and police cars around our van. So, needless to say, they freaked out. But when they saw that everything was ok, they were thankful, and I got thanked numerous times for being calm in the midst of this.

Thursday we went back to Brothers and actually spent an entire day painting one house. We then went back to the same shower facility, but we were prepared for it this time. Thankfully (maybe) there was already a guy showering when we got there, and as he was naked this discouraged the boys from coming into the shower. As I was getting ready to go into the shower one young boy came in from the pool, walked into the shower, stopped in his tracks and declared "Ew! Nasty!" Before running back out to the pool. After showers we drove back out to the Rescue Mission to say hi to our friends and to invite them to our community cookout that night. I'll write more about this in my other post, as well.

Thursday evening is always footwashing worship. After we hear the story of Jesus washing the disciples' feet, the staff members wash the adult leaders feet and then we wash the feet of our young people. It's always a moving experience. It seems to bring a lot of emotion to the surface and the kids can start to cry. We had our share of tears, but not as much as we had when we took our mission trip to Pennsylvania. That was a little crazy that year.

Friday we cleaned up the church and said our goodbyes and took a drive to Pike's Peak. We figured since we were near the mountains it would be a shame not to go there. So we did. And it was a lot of fun and the kids enjoyed it. Afterwards we started our drive home and 25 hours of driving later, we made it.

Needless to say, I am thankful to not have to ride or drive or sleep in a van for a while. But I miss the experiences and people of this past week, especially those from the Rescue Mission. All of our kids had great experiences and many of them are already talking about our trip next summer. I have to say, you can't beat doing a mission trip through an organization that provides for all the details, feeds and houses your kids, sets up the mission work opportunities, and also helps the youth process what they've done and seen, all while doing it in such a way that makes our kids want to keep coming back and also invite their friends. But most of all it is amazing to see the changes in the young people after they experience a week of Christian service. I feel like I should copy one of those Mastercard commercials and talk about how much we spent on registration and van rentals and whatnot, but the overall result - the changes in the lives of our young people - is priceless.

How's that for a day off?

2009-07-31T00:01:00.004-05:00

Because of being gone for a week last week, and being gone for another week next week, and both of them being for work reasons, I decided to take an extra day off this week. So, that was today.

Silly me for thinking that it would work out that way!

You see, we have 32 people interested in leaving for our mission trip on Sunday (which, by the way, we're heading out at 4am. Seriously? 4am? Ugh.). However, we only registered for 30 spots. This is probably something that we should have talked about and figured out prior to the week before leaving for the trip, but it is kind of par for the course with the way things have been going.

Anyway, so today on my day off, I had to call the organization we're going through to see if there were two extra spots available. Well, I guess at that time it was 3 spots because we had 33 potential people going. So I called to see if they had three extra spots available. Well, no they didn't. And they don't allow any overbooking at their site in Denver, which is where we'll be heading. So the kind and helpful person on the other end of the phone suggested we call the other churches to see if they had spots that they hadn't filled that we could buy off of them.

On my best day I am not a fan of talking on the phone. I don't really know why, I just don't care much for it. So the prospect of talking on the phone to these other people on a day I wasn't planning to work at all didn't seem like such a fun idea. So to avoid it I sent an e-mail to one of our other adult leaders to see if he'd be able to do it, but then it occurred to me that he's at work and we should probably get going on this as quickly as possible. It looked like I would need to be the one to make the phone call. But then it hit me. Aha! Church secretary! I ran over to the office and talked to our secretary about it, and she said she'd be willing to make the phone calls. So I gave her all the info that she'd need, my user name and password for the organization's website so she could access the info about the other churches to call them.

Then I left to grab some lunch and buy a couple things at Target. On my way the secretary called and said that the info I gave her wasn't working. It wouldn't allow her to access the site. So I repeated the info, and she said that's what she had. I asked if she was exact with the capital and lowercase letters, because it's case sensitive. She said she was. I said maybe I wrote the password down wrong and she should go look at the post-it note I have stuck to my computer monitor that has the password on it. She said she had already done that. I was baffled. I had been on the site earlier this morning and it worked. Our other adult leader had been online last week using that same info to print off some forms. I have had this info for more than two years now and it has always worked. I couldn't imagine why it wasn't working now. So I told her that I would come into the office to figure it out when I got back.

When I got back into the office she had figured it out. She was putting a space in my user name where there shouldn't have been one. I was relieved to see that was the problem.

Well, to make an already long and uninteresting story a little shorter, after calling the various churches we found four unused spots that we could purchase from these other congregations. And in the midst of this, one of the high schoolers who was going had called me earlier to let me know that he would no longer be going. So now we only needed two spots.

So I was able to enjoy my day off with only three stops in the office and a couple more phone conversations with the secretary. But I guess that's what I get for thinking I'd take some extra time off right before we head out on a mission trip. Maybe tomorrow, my actual day off, will seem more like a real day off. We shall see.

...and so it continues...

2009-07-28T11:37:00.002-05:00

This past week was another week on the list of things that are making my summer crazy busy, but also crazy fun.

We left, with groups from two other congregations, at 2:00pm on Tuesday, July 21st and headed out for New Orleans. Upon my first consideration, driving all night sounded like a good idea. We didn't need to coordinate any place to stay, we'd just stay on the bus for the 22 hours it would take us to get to our destination.

Flash forward to sometime around 11pm on the 21st as I'm sitting there in my small bus seat, trying to find a way to recline and relax that doesn't involve my legs jammed up against the seat in front of me, or folded up to my chin. About that time I began to reconsider the validity of this decision. But, by that point, it was a bit late. So I made the best out of it.

We arrived in New Orleans at around noon the next day. We stopped at the Convention Center and I, along with the primary adult leaders of the other two congregations, got off the bus and registered our groups. The next stop was our hotels. In hindsight, I can see the value of registering our groups together so we would be assigned to the same hotel which would make the whole process of dropping off go much more smoothly. We did not take advantage of this option when we registered so, of course, we were in three different hotels. So after we returned to the bus we now had to be driven and dropped off at our respective hotels. Had I known the lay of the land a bit better, my group could have removed our bags at the Convention Center and walked to our hotel. However, I did not know the lay of the land. So we stayed on the bus. We decided, though, that since we knew my hotel was closest we'd get dropped off first. Well, 45 minutes later, after trying to drive the bus through the narrow streets of the French Quarter, getting lost, and dropping the other two groups off at their hotels, we arrived at our hotel which was a mere two block from the Convention Center.

Luckily, our week greatly improved after that. We got to do some fun sight seeing, eat at some great restaurants, meet some cool people, see some great speakers and musicians, participate in some lively worship, and partake in many of the opportunities offered by the Youth Gathering. Jay Bakker, Spencer West, Anne Mahlum, and Viola Vaughn were just a few of the speakers, and they shared messages that really resonated with me. The Flying Karamazov Brothers, Guyland Leday, Agape, and Amanda Shaw were some of the great performers that were there. The message that was shared was one of love, of hope in the midst of tragedy and disaster, and of reaching out to others and serving as Christ served. New Orleans, still recovering from the affects of Hurricane Katrina, was the perfect place for this to take place. Besides the mass gatherings which featured the above speakers and performers, the youth also went out into the community and served through various organizations and projects. The group I was with was sent to a local elementary school where we worked with the kids who were there for summer school and then painted a couple hallways in the school after the kids left. Other groups did more manual work, some gardened some helped out at houses and other areas affected by the hurricane. New Orleans mayor Ray Nagin said that after a storm comes a rainbow, and he said that the ELCA Youth Gathering in New Orleans was Katrina's rainbow.

When not out in the community, the youth participated in learning centers and workshops which focused on various things such as images of Jesus in popular media, discernment and vocation, global issues and other topics. They also had the opportunity to visit the Interaction Center which had a high ropes course, self-pedaled bumper cars, and even more opportunities to serve, such as through donating blood.

It was a great week. There were various issues and concerns that come anytime you go somewhere with high school students. There was the occasional attitude and a few disagreements, but overall the kids I brought got along great, listened well (most of the time), and particpated in much of what the Gathering had to offer. There was an incident involving easy cheese and my leg in a dark bus while I was sleeping, but even that could be overlooked and laughed at... after I cleaned up the easy cheese using moist towelettes I had randomly taken from the bus restroom earlier that day... And also after the gross smell of processed cheese goo and lemon scented moist towelettes disipated. But we made it there and back safely, the kids had a good time (and I did, too), so overall it was a great experience.

Now I have to focus on going about the final details for our upcoming mission trip. We leave for this trip bright and early Sunday morning, so I will be home for five full days before heading off for another week. This time we will be in Denver, and going through an organization that is very good and will have all of our arrangements figured out for us. So really all we have to worry about it getting our group there, which is nice.

I'm guessing my access to a computer and the internet won't be that likely while I am there, but I will give all of my readers (more likely it's just my one reader) an update when I return!!

i'm the robot king of the monkey thing

2009-07-20T23:47:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow is July 21 which, besides being my dad's birthday, is not a very special or unique day.

Except this July 21 is the day that I, and eight other people from my church, will load up into a charter bus and head down to New Orleans for the ELCA Youth Gathering. I've been calling it the National Youth Gathering, but apparently that's wrong and not so politically correct, because youth from many other nations will be attending.

This will be my third one. The first was in 2000 at St Louis. I had just graduated from college and taken a job as a youth director at a church in Lincoln, Nebraska. I mean JUST taken the job, really. My first day on the job was July 1 and we left for the Gathering around a week afterward. It was a fluke opportunity. Most churches start planning for these Gatherings at least a year in advance. So all the details had been figured out, and I was told when I took the job that all of the adult chaperones had been selected and there was no room for me to go. And I was ok with that. I had never been to a National Youth Gathering before. At the church I attended in high school, the youth group consisted of me and Derek, who was three years younger than me. So, we never really did anything. I was not heartbroken to not be going, I was just excited and nervous to head out into the real world of youth ministry. But then one of the adult males found out he would need shoulder surgery a week or so before they left for the Gathering, and so he would be unable to go. A spot for a male chaperone opened up and they asked their new youth director if he'd like to go. I said Yes, of course. And it was pretty amazing. There were thousands and thousands of ELCA youth in one area. We had large group worships and all sorts of fun activities. I spent a lot of quality time in a van with these high schoolers that would now be mine.

In 2003, the Gathering was held in Atlanta. That year I happened to be on my Clinical Pastoral Education, which is a requirement for seminary and is a summer spent in a clinical ministry setting such as a hospital or a nursing home. It's a concentrated and intense experience and so to ask for a week or two off would be asking to miss a large chunk of the experience. So I didn't. But my friend, Pastor Mike, whose family was hosting me that summer went. I don't remember if he was taking a group or volunteering, but he was gone for those weeks while I trudged through the deep work that is CPE. I have to admit I was jealous. Very jealous.

So when 2006 rolled around and the Gathering was being held in San Antonio, I knew I HAD to go. But the only problem was, even though I was graduating from seminary in 2006, I most likely would not have a congregation by that point. And even if I did, it would be a situation similar to 2000, where they would have all their details in place and I could not expect emergency shoulder surgery to play a crucial role in me going. So I decided I needed to volunteer. I remembered that when I went to the St Louis Gathering that there were people in our hotel whose only role was to be hospitable. They were there to welcome us and to help us if we had any questions or concerns. They were called the Hotel Life team, and it seemed like something I could do. So I applied for this team, that was transitioning to the new title Community Life, and ended up being accepted as a volunteer.

I have to say that it was a pretty great way to spend two weeks of my summer. I ended up being in one of the hotels that was the farthest from the main hub of activity, and while that made me upset at first, I ended up enjoying it. I was part of a small team, just me and one other guy, and we had a great time. We schmoozed with the adults and youth in our hotel like we were getting paid for it. We patroled the hallways like the very safety of the hotel depended on it. We were there in the morning until the last groups got on the shuttle bus and headed to the convention center, and we were there towards the end of the night to wish them all sweet dreams. We hung out at the hotel closest to the convention center and spent a lot of time staffing their Community Life events. My favorite job was supervising dances. Being a church event we strongly discouraged the bumping and the grinding. So several of our female volunteers would stand up on the stage and observe the crowd. When they would see a young couple getting a little too friendly they'd point or nod, and my teammate or I would dance and boogie our way through the crowd to the overly amorous couple and remind them that there needed to be a bit more space in between them. Since our hotel was one of the distant properties, and there were no actual Community Life events held there, we were able to spend most of the day and evening at the convention center and the interaction center. We'd take the last bus in and wander around, check things out, visit the Community Life office and schmooze with the planning team, enjoy snow cones and check out the River Walk, and then go see all of the speakers and musicians and worship services. It was a great time, and an amazing two weeks.

So then the 2009 Youth Gathering started to get closer. I did mention to my Senior Pastor that I would like to volunteer for the Community Life team again, but he thought it would be better if I were to be in charge of our group. Since I wasn't in charge in 2000, I could see the value of experiencing the Gathering in a different way, and so I willingly, but reluctantly, decided not to volunteer again this year. And, I have to admit, this has been a completely different experience. All the fundraising and details and paperwork and phone calls and e-mails and checking and double checking and triple checking, the informational meetings... all these things that go into an ELCA Youth Gathering that I have never been a part of before. And I readily admit that I have not done it the way it probably should be done. I am sure that many people are far more organized and detail oriented than I am and that they have everything figured out to the minutest detail. But I know that we are registered for the event, and I know that we will have hotel rooms when we arrive, and I know that we have a bus to ride on to get there. So I am sure that things will work out.

To quote the Christian mystic Julian of Norwich, "All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."

Amen!

Harry Potter and the Early Morning Movie

2009-07-15T06:19:00.004-05:00

I just went to a 3am showing of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. After finally going to bed at 11:00 last night, and getting up at 2:00 this morning, I know that I should get some more sleep before trying to tackle what this day might bring. Everyone else in the house (not mine) is asleep right now. So, I'm the only brainiac still awake and typing on a computer. I should get some shut-eye and then drive back home to get some work done.

But the movie was pretty good. Not as good as it could have been, but still worth watching. It's been a while since I've read the book, so I couldn't tell you for sure what was different, but there are parts that were in the movie that I don't remember being in the book. Also, with the books, we get to follow along with JK Rowling's amazing story telling. She has ways of using words that wrap you up and make you feel like a part of the story. When reading the books I get emotionally invested in a way that I don't with the movies. Also, it's never been the same since the actor who originally played Dumbledore passed away. He was just perfect for the way I pictured Albus - wise and gentle and intelligent and quirky. The newer Dumbledore just seems a bit gruffer and rougher around the edges than I imagine him to be. Also, Tonks and Lupin, two of my favorite characters in the books barely appear in this movie.

But there are good parts, especially Ron Weasley. Rupert Grint, the actor who plays him, does a fantastic job. He is a great comedic actor, especially during the scene when Ron accidentally eats a love potion meant for Harry. It was priceless.

And the actor who plays Professor Slughorn (Jim Broadbent) also plays Professor Kirke in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe. I like him a lot.

The actress who plays Lavender Brown, the young girl that is smitten with Ron, does a great job, too. Hilarious.

Anyway, I need to go and try to get some sleep. I recommend going to see the movie, and even though it wasn't as great as I had hoped it would be, it was worth getting up at 2am to go and see it with some good friends.

(oh... during the previews, there were previews for two movies that I cannot wait to see: Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief [see earlier post where I talk about that book] and Where the Wild Things Are. I am super excited to see both of them!!!!)

ELCA and the NYG in NOLA

2009-07-14T10:09:00.002-05:00

We leave for New Orleans, for the ELCA National Youth Gathering, in exactly one week. We are taking a charter bus, along with youth from three other congregations, and driving straight through from up north here in Minnesota to down south there in New Orleans (sorry Becky, not stopping in St Louie).

I am excited as all get out for this. It should be a lot of fun. It's an opportunity to jam 37,000 youth and adults into one place and we can all let our church nerd flags fly. For example, the travel slogan for Virginia is "Virginia is for lovers." Well, in 2006 at the San Antonio gathering, all of the people from Virginia were sporting "Virginia is for Lutherans" shirts. They were pretty awesome and ever since then I've made it my goal to get one of those shirts for myself. I have had no luck at all. I was so close, though, because that year I was volunteering for the Hotel/Community Life team, and one of the women in charge of the team was from Virginia and she said she'd help me get one. But they didn't have any extras with them there. I've even communicated with some of the Virginia synod staff members and they weren't able to help me out. Drat.

But that is an example of the stuff that goes on at the Gathering. We makes jokes about Lutherans, there are lots of jokes about Minnesota (because of our high concentration of Lutherans), we wear our Lutheranism with pride and excitement and enthusiasm. There is even a song, written by the group Lost and Found, about the ELCA to the tune of YMCA. At San Antonio they had people in big letter costumes get up and dance. Our Presiding Bishop even got in on the fun and with a few other "ELCA celebrities" got up on stage and danced to the song. There were five of them dancing, each with a letter of the ELCA on their shirt. Bishop Hansen was the exclamation point.

It is bound to be a great time with a lot of fun people. The only problem is - I'm not a great detail person. Little things that I should think about or take care of slip by me because I'm too busy thinking about the big picture. So right now I'm trying to be calm and relaxed about the whole situation, but I'm starting to get a wee bit panicky about things. I don't want to get down there and realize I missed something with the hotel, and so we don't have rooms, or that I didn't send in a form and so we're not fully registered. All these little scenarios play out in my head about how I could possibly ruin everything. It's not a lot of fun.

Once we get there and dive in, it will be great fun. But right now, for the next week, I might lose even more of my already thinning hair...

still kickin'

2009-07-07T15:29:00.003-05:00

I am hopeful that you, my faithful reader, do not mistake my lack of posting for a lack of excitement. You see, there is an awful lot of stuff going on in my life right now. Some of it is work related... some of it is not. Some of it is bloggable... some of it is not. Some of it is interesting... some of it is not. A lot of time I fear that the interesting stuff is also the unbloggable. There is a lot going on that I think you'd find interesting. But I'm not at liberty to share it with you. Drives you kind of crazy that I'm even mentioning it, doesn't it? Don't you hate it when someone does that?

But life moves ever onward. We are a couple weeks away from leaving for the National Youth Gathering in New Orleans, and I often feel like I am completely unprepared for it. But I think it should be a lot of fun, we are taking a good group of kids and adults, and sharing a bus with two other churches. I think it will be a good experience for everyone involved. Plus, I get to go to New Orleans again. So that's exciting in and of itself.

I led three services at our various nursing home and senior apartments today. I like these people, and I'm glad that we can bring the worship service to people who are unable to make it to church on their own. But I have found that one service at a nursing home takes more out of me than two services on a regular Sunday morning. We all have different gifts, I guess. (See what I said about the interesting stuff being unbloggable?)

What's on my mind tonight

2009-06-27T00:14:00.002-05:00

So, Michael Jackson died. In case you haven't heard. But I'm not sure how you couldn't have heard about that by now. It's been on every TV station, and today as I was driving and listening to the radio, every break between songs the DJ talked about it. I think MTV even preempted their regularly scheduled programming to run a program about him. American Idol is going to re-air an episode for the first time, and it's going to be the one from this season where they all sang Michael Jackson songs. So I'm not sure how anyone could have gone this long without knowing something about Michael Jackson being dead.

And I get it. He's famous. He sang songs and made good music and cool videos. He did some pretty sweet dance moves and wore a sparkly glove. He lived at a fun park and had a pet chimpanzee and was friends with Emmanuel Lewis and Macaulay Culkin. I understand that.

But he was a person. No better or more important or any more special than anyone else. He wasn't any more special than one of my church members who I just found out died today in a car accident. His family mourns his loss. His wife and children and grandchildren now have a very big hole where this important and special man once was.

I just think it's wrong to lift up the death of some people as more important, more worthy of attention than others. We are all children of God, equally loved and cherished by God. It doesn't matter if we had best selling albums, or if we were on posters on every boy's room in the 1970's or if we were on one of the best late night talk shows, or if we lived in a small house in rural Minnesota. We are all special. We are all equal. We are all loved.

a list of highlights (creative title, i know)

2009-06-19T22:12:00.003-05:00

Well, two weeks of Busy Summer 2009 are over. They were, indeed, busy. But they were fun nonetheless.

Some highlights of the past two weeks:

- Meeting Pastor Christie, a fun and funny fellow clergyperson, at church camp. She was there with her senior pastor and their middle school youth, and was at camp for most of the week, and was my partner-in-crime for the week. We now even have matching sweatshirts to confirm this.

- Canoeing with Pastor Christie and trying to catch pelicans on the lake. Even though they appeared to be sleeping they were able to get away from us. Though we did worry about being gangbeat by a bunch of them for disturbing their chillaxing.

- Playing "jackolight" at camp. It's a game original to this camp, that involves campers running around outside in the dark, and various counselors, staff members and other assorted adult-type people jumping out, shining flashlights at them and shouting "Jackolight!" Apparently there was a object that the kids were trying to find. I just thought it was an opportunity to jump and scream at the kids.

- Having kids raise their hands if they liked various food items, and when I said "Raise your hand if you like cheese curds," little Joey came tearing from across the room, looked at me with consternation and asked, "Did you say turds?"

- Eating at an end of VBS potluck and having little Becca standing behind me and say, "You have hair like my grandpa!"

- Taking another group of camp staff to see the two-story outhouse in town.

- Having a week at confirmation camp that did not involve threats of physical violence, mustard packets emptied on sleeping bags, kids tipping their canoes on purpose, or kids carving in their arms with safety pins.

- Playing Bonkers (also known as Biffer, or Biffer and Medic, or Boof or countless other names) and being a Bonker for the entire time and not dying. Although several kids taunted me, knowing they could easily outrun me. But it was a personal achievement. Don't try and take that away from me!

- Watching Sam and Aiden put pillows on their heads and dance to entertain the people behind our bus on the way home from camp.

- This isn't an actual highlight from camp or VBS, but it's related, so I'm including it. Getting to lead "Giants, Wizards and Elves," one of my favorite games ever (and I learned it at camp) at a meeting with the other churches with which we'll be traveling to the ELCA National Youth Gathering. It's a group "rock, paper, scissors" type game, and I learned it as "Giants, Wizards and Dwarves" but have changed it so as to be a bit more PC.

- Playing watergames during VBS in my backyard, and getting countless cups of water poured on me and more than several water balloons thrown at me. I try to remind myself that the sadistic attitude my young people have toward me really means that they like me.

- Finding and buying a camp hoodie that I had been envying and coveting for the past three years. And finding it on the clearance rack at the camp store. Granted, it's not the color that I would have chosen, but I still like it and am wearing it right now.

So those are just a few of the many highlights of the past two weeks. I've been enjoying a much needed day off, doing a whole lot of nothing all day. Tomorrow looks like a very similar day.

Awesome.

and so it begins

2009-06-14T17:09:00.000-05:00

Summer is officially here. Well, not according-to-the-calendar official, but In-the-life-of-me official. Because tomorrow I head three hours north, with a busload of 7th graders, to spend a week away from their parents, at confirmation camp.

Now, if you know anything about me, then you know I spend most of the entire year looking forward to this one week. I won't go into my deep love for all things summer camp, that could be an entire post of it's own. Maybe even an entire blog. But, let's just say I really enjoy it and look forward to the opportunity to go there.

This will be my third summer at camp as Pastor Mark. I'm hoping that it will be a great week, the weather will cooperate, and the kids will have a good time.

Note: The previous paragraphs were written the day before I left for camp. I got back from camp on Friday. What follows, is obviously written post camp.

So, the week was good. I took a great group of 7th graders up to camp for the week, and I'm pretty sure most of them had a good time. Some of them even had a great time.

The week started out chilly and rainy, but got better as it progressed. By the end there was sun, although I think I'm wearing a sweatshirt in every picture. This year at camp we did not have any major issues, such as we had my first year. Which was nice. All of the kids were low drama, mixed well with the other kids, and had a good time. Several of them even mentioned wanting to go back to camp next year.

I had a good time, too. There was a new pastor friend this year, who I had not met before. She is in her first year of pastorhood and we had a good time hanging out and causing mischief. We went canoeing and tried to harass the pelicans on the lake, but they avoided us all too well.

It was a great time. I love camp, I love being in the midst of that atmosphere and in that environment. So even though it was, technically, 24 hours of work a day, it was a refreshing and fun experience.

The day after we got home, we had a car wash. I was out in the sun washing cars from 10 until 4, and I was even an hour late. This was a fundraiser for our mission trip to Denver and our trip to the ELCA National Youth Gathering. It was a great day for a car wash. Not a cloud in the sky, it wasn't too hot, but it was nice and sunny and warm. Which, of course, means sunburns. I got one on the back of my neck and my bald spot. Luckily it's not a very bad one. I made out far better than some of the others that were there.

Today, the camp counselors arrived for our week of Vacation Bible School this week. Luckily, none of them are staying at my house this week, I'm just not sure that I'm up for that right now. I feel like I've got a lot of stuff going on and I need to be in all these different places, and the condition of my house reflects that.

This afternoon we had a get-together with the churches we'll be traveling with to New Orleans for the ELCA National Youth Gathering. I got to lead Giants, Wizards and Elves - one of my favorite games ever. It's sort of a big group version of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Then we chatted for a bit and worked on covenants for the trip. It was a good time and gets me excited for our upcoming journey to New Orleans!!!

Now I have to get ready to head over to church to eat supper with our camp counselors and get ready for worship this evening. Tomorrow we start our week of VBS. It's going to be a busy summer!

a week of friends, family and fun!

2009-05-22T10:02:00.005-05:00

I had the wonderful opportunity to take some vacation time and head down to Illinois to visit my brother, sister-in-law and two nieces. The plan was just to hang out and relax and enjoy their company. I got to enjoy their company a lot, because my wonderful, amazing nieces would come in to my room and wake me up at around 5:30 everyday. And that is just ungodly, if you ask me. Now, by ungodly, I mean immoral, wicked and unreasonable. I do not mean of or denoting the absence of God.

We had the opportunity to do some fun stuff. One of those things was visiting the Jelly Belly warehouse in Wisconsin. We got a "tour" which included riding in a little train around the perimeter of the warehouse and watching videos about the origins and production of Jelly Bellies. It was neat, and I've decided my goal is to become one of their Master Confectioners. After the tour we got free samples of the Jelly Bellies. I tried some normal flavors like mango and pomegranate (that's a really hard word to spell) and red apple (which was really good!) and I also tried some weird flavors like booger (although I opted away from the vomit flavored one because, as I told my sister-in-law I have too many stories involving me actually vomiting to be able to enjoy a jelly bean that simulates that flavor... oh, and I've tried it before...).

On my way back home, after visiting my family, I drove the long way and visited my old internship congregation and went to church there on Sunday. Then I drove through the Quad Cities and visited my internship supervisor (that's where he has moved since he retired, although with the congregations he's serving as an interim pastor, and the organization he's working with as their interim director, I think he might work just as much if not more than he did as a fulltime pastor...). It was great to see Ron again, and to chat about all the things that are going on in my life and ministry. Ron was probably one of the best supervisors I could have had as an intern pastor. He was like the yin to my yang. I was inexperienced and impulsive and had a lot of energy. He was experienced and thoughtful and grounded. I'd come into his office freaking out about something, frantically trying to come up with a solution for it immediately, and he'd calmly talk about it and think about it.

While I was in the Quad Cities I also visited my friend Christie, ate some great pizza, and then went to Ross's 24 Hour Diner in Bettendorf, IA and ate their Magic Mountain for breakfast. I've had it before when I was in the area, and I really enjoy it even through I know it's not the healthiest thing I could have. It's grilled texas toast, piled high with eggs, hasbrowns and sausage and then covered (I mean COVERED) in sausage gravy or cheese sauce. The first time I had it, I almost got the cheese sauce but the waitress informed me that it was much better with the gravy. So I do that, although I am always intrigued by the cheese sauce. I do love me some cheese (but I recognize that "cheese sauce" is probably more sauce than cheese...)

Then I drove home and made it back to the Cities in time to have supper with some great people. Erin is a friend and classmate from seminary who has recently moved to the area to serve as the Director of Youth Ministry at a large church. And Casey is the son of other good friends from seminary who recently moved to the area so Mike, Casey's dad, could be the Executive Pastor at this same congregation. Casey has recently enlisted in the army and was getting ready to fly out for basic training so Erin and I took him out to eat and it was nice to have that time with him. And Erin paid for dinner at Outback Steakhouse, which included french fries covered in cheese and bacon, so I can't complain!!

Also, on my drive home, I had the window open and the sun was beating down on me for most of the drive. Well, and when I say "beating down on me" I mean it was beating down on my left arm and left knee for most of the drive. So now my left arm is tanner than my right arm, and I have a small spot of sunburn on my left knee, although that's already faded. Pretty awesome, though, huh?

All in all, it was a great week of fun and family and friends!

Book 'em, Danno!

2009-05-12T20:01:00.004-05:00

So, I knew my summer schedule was going to be busy. It usually is. But until today, when I went across the hallway to make sure my Senior Pastor knew what dates I was going to be gone for trips and whatnot, I did not realize quite exactly how busy I am going to be. Let's take a glimpse at what is in store for Pastor Mark!

Right off the bat, in June, I will be gone from June 7-12 with our 7th graders at Confirmation Camp. This goes from Sunday until Friday. It's an all day thing. I will ride the bus with my 7th graders for a three hour trip (as I was typing this, the theme song for Gilligan's Island popped into my head... "A three hour tour, a three hour tour..." I hope our trip is more successful than Gilligan's...) up to the camp. That means I am there for the duration. There will be no day trips elsewhere, or drives in the country to get away from the kids. Luckily, I will have a room in the retreat center while they are all in the cabins, so I will have time to get away.

Then, as soon as I get back from camp, camp comes to us! We have our Vacation Bible School from June 15-18, and the counselors will arrive on Sunday, June 14. So we will have four days of action packed Vacation Bible School for our kindergarteners-sixth graders.

Then comes my biggest break of the summer because, besides a wedding and, oh, I don't know other normal pastoral duties, I don't have anything until July 21-27 which is the ELCA National Youth Gathering in New Orleans. We will be taking a bus down, along with three other local congregations, and headed down to New Orleans where there is going to be around 35,000 other youth and adults from all over the country, and even some other countries. We'll be doing some massive service projects around the city, as well as participating in some LARGE group gatherings and worships, and taking part in some community life activities.

I'll get back from that sometime around July 27th, at which time I'll have to do laundry and pack to get ready to go on our mission trip to Denver on August 2-7. This is through the group Youthworks, so luckily everything is figured out, I just have to worry about getting the kids there. While there, we'll do some service projects, work with neighborhood kids, volunteer and nursing homes and homeless shelters and other service organizations. We'll be taking vans down to Denver, to transport our 30 youth and adults who are attending.

Then, I get a ten day break (TEN DAYS! WOO HOO!!!) after I get back to recuperate and do laundry before I need to pack my bags and head up into Minneapolis for the ELCA Churchwide Assembly. The Churchwide Assembly is the largest legislative body in the ELCA, where voting members from all 65 synods gather together every two years to vote on resolutions, recommendations, proposed amendments and other motions. Each synod is responsible for electing a certain number of voting members to represent them at the Assembly. This year, I have been elected to be a voting member! So I am excited to participate in this way!!

Whew! And there we have it, folks. That is what my summer is shaping up to look like. Somewhere in there I want to enjoy the summer, as well as figure out Confirmation curriculum for the coming year, and maybe even relax a little bit!! My summer is looking BOOKED, folks!

p.s. I should say that even though I will be busy, I am very excited. All of these things that I get to do this summer are things I enjoy. I LOVE camp. So camp and VBS will be no problem for me. I love the mission trips, they are great experiences and are not too stressful on me, because Youthworks always has capable and friendly staff to head things up (except for that time in Schuylkill County, Pennsylvania when they ran out of tortilla chips before I could make my nachos and I had a meltdown and gave myself a time out in the van... It had been a long day). I am SUPER excited for the National Youth Gathering. This will be my 3rd, I've been to St Louis with the congregation I served as a youth director, and to San Antonio as a volunteer on the Community Life team, and now to New Orleans as a pastor! It should be a great time! And the Churchwide Assembly excites me to no end. I am an admitted church nerd. I love to go to Synod Assemblies and whatnot, and this will be my first time to attend a Churchwide Assembly. And I had to choose to be nominated for the voting member spot, so it's not like I was chosen out of the blue or that it's like jury duty and I have no say in the matter. So, while this will be a busy summer, it is bound to be a fun and exciting and amazing and memorable summer, too. I'm sure I will blog a lot about it!!!

I'm hooked

2009-05-12T14:38:00.004-05:00

So, I was visiting a pretty cool local bookstore a few weeks ago, and I picked up a new book that caught my eye. Now, I have to admit that it's a book geared toward young adults, but once I started reading it, I've had trouble stopping.

It's the story of Percy Jackson who finds out he's not a normal kid. He suffers from ADHD and dyslexia, and has been expelled from a number of schools. But he soon finds out that this is not because he's a bad kid, it's because he's a demi-god. He has never known his real father, and that's because he's a Greek god.

So, for his own safety, Percy ends up at Camp Halfblood which is a protected training ground for kids who are demi-gods like him. He is accompanied by his friend Grover, who is a satyr and assigned to watch and protect him, as well as Annabeth, the daughter of Athena. There are other characters, like Luke the son of Hermes and Clarisse the daughter of Ares.

There are some similarities to Harry Potter - a troubled lead character, a booksmart female, a goofy and sometimes bumbling sidekick, they all live at a place apart which those on the outside (mortals or muggles) cannot find, etc. But for all of that, this book so far has managed to find a niche and a story that is its own.

It's a pretty funny read, it moves along fairly quickly, and if you like Greek mythology (which I admit, I do) you will probably get a kick out of this book. Lots of characters and monsters from the pages of mythology make appearances in these pages, and get a humorous and modern twist. I'm just glad that it's the first in a series, so I can keep reading them as soon as I'm done with this one!

Bat Crazy

2009-05-08T10:48:00.004-05:00

I was at a Jr/Sr High Ministry team meeting yesterday and somehow we got on the topic of bats. Not the wooden kind that you use to hit a baseball, but the furry kind that fly and have sharp teeth and rabies. One of the people at this meeting knows how much I dislike bats. The others might not have been as aware. So I had to share my stories as to why I don't like them. Then I realized that I haven't posted these stories on this blog, yet, and some people who read this might not know them. And I like to share my stories with people! Now, some of you might have heard these stories before. But I like to share my stories multiple times!

All of these stories take place my senior year of seminary. I was living in the residence hall, which was part of the main buildings on campus, which are all connected. Although recently renovated, these buildings are old, and connected to a tall bell tower. So, of course, there are bats in the buildings.

One day I was doing laundry. The laundry room in the residence hall is located in the basement of the building. I was going to check to see if my load of laundry was done, so I pushed open the door and entered the stairway. That's when something fluttered to the ground but not before brushing me on the head on its way down. I glanced to see what it was. It was a bat. And it was now curled up on the ground. That's when I let out a scream-yelp type thing (that was very manly I assure you), ran down the stairs and out of the building. When I got outside, I saw my friend Mike walking toward the family housing. "Mike!" I shouted, as I ran over to him. "You will NOT guess what just happened!!!" He didn't guess, so I told him. I think I was hoping for him to offer to come and help me extract that bat from the building. Instead, he said, "That's too bad. See ya later." and continued his walk home. As I stood outside, I realized that I couldn't just leave that bat there. I needed to do something to get it out of the building. So I mustered up the little amount of courage that I could find, walked back inside, saw the bat on the floor and walked back to my room. Once there, I grabbed a sweatshirt and headed back to the stairway. Since it was still day outside, and the stairway was well lit, the bat was not very active and hadn't moved at all from where it had landed after hitting me in the head. So I walked over to the bat, placed the sweatshirt on top, and scooped it up. At that moment, this very inactive bat decided to become a very active one, and it began chirping like crazy. I tried to hurry down the one flight of stairs that was separating me holding this bat from me being bat free, but somewhere in the middle of the staircase, that crafty little devil managed to squeeze out of the sweatshirt and began flying in frantic circles in the stairway. At this point, I started making many more noises similar to the one I had previously made, as I ducked and crawled up the staircase to get away from this upset and confused bat that was flying in circles and, according to my panicking brain, trying to divebomb me. I made it back up to the door to my hallway as the bat flew up the stairs and disappeared from my sight. At that point I determined that both the bat and I were sufficiently traumatized, so I was not going to pursue it anymore.

The second story happened a week or two before I was moving out of seminary to head up here to Minnesota. I was sitting at my desk in my room, checking my e-mail on the computer when I heard a noise. Tic-tic-tic... I turned to see what it was, but all I saw was my dorm fridge. It had been known to make weird noises, so I was not concerned. I turned my attention back to the computer. Then I heard the noise again, but it seemed to be closer. So I turned and looked again and saw a bat crawling across some papers that I had on the floor. I'm pretty sure I made a noise similar to those others, and my mind began racing as to what I needed to do. So, acting in a purely rational manner, I tossed a sweatshirt on top of the bat and ran out of the room. Halfway down the hall it occurred to me that that probably wasn't the best decision, as now there was a bat in my room and I was not. At least when we were both in the room I could monitor where it was. Now, if it got out from under the sweatshirt, it could be just about anywhere. So I walked back into the room to see the bat climbing to the top of the sweatshirt. I knew that the quicker I acted the sooner the bat would be gone, so I grabbed another sweatshirt (luckily I happen to have a lot of hoodies) and tossed it on top of the bat and the other sweatshirt. Then, without allowing myself to think about what I was actually doing, I scooped up both sweatshirts and bolted for the door. I made it out onto the back steps where two other students were chatting. I leaned over the edge of the stairs and shook the bat loose from the sweatshirts. It fluttered to the ground and laid in a small heap on the grass in the sun. One of those fellow students came over and said, "What happened?" I told her that this bat was in my room. So, calmly and compassionately (sort of the antithesis of how I had been acting up to that point) the fellow student took one of my sweatshirts, carefully picked the bat up and walked it over to a shady spot by the trees and laid it on the ground in a safe place. I quickly retrieved my sweatshirt and ran inside and threw them in the laundry.

My third story takes place just around a week after my second one. It was late, I had been spending a lot of my time packing hoping to be ready to load stuff in the U-Haul truck which I had reserved to move out of Iowa and into Minnesota (that's another story entirely). My room was starting to look bare, and I was physically tired and emotionally drained from saying good-bye to good friends. I was sitting in my room at the computer, once again, when I heard a noise and saw something out of the corner of my eye. I turned and looked into the little hallway in my room, to see what it was. Nothing happened for a few seconds, but then a bat flapped against the wall, and rose up a couple feet from the ground. This time I did not make any screamy/yelpy noises, but I think I said something like, "Are you %@$^ $$% &&%#% $@#$% **&^^% KIDDING ME?!?!" I didn't think that I had it in my being to handle something like that right at that moment, so I picked up the phone and called my friend Shana. "You will not believe this." I said into the phone. "What?" Shana asked, probably thinking I had something fun or exciting to share with her. "There's a bat in my room!" After a brief conversation, Shana said she would come up from the apartments and help me take care of this bat. So a few moments later she came into my room, and we figured out what we needed to do. I suppose I should tell you that until Shana arrived in my room, I was perched on a chair wieldng my tennis racket should the bat get any ideas. When she got there we took a small box and placed it over top of the bat, who was now lying still. Then we took an empty cereal box I had in the room and flattened it and slid it under the box and the bat. That's when the bat started to get active and to chirp and to move around. As we made our way to the back door, the bat tried to escape, and it's wings kept slipping out in between the box on top and the cereal box. Thankfully we made it outside without the bat escaping and we set it free. It flew around in circles for a few times and then raced off. As we were throwing away the boxes, we noticed that the cereal box happened to be for Boo Berry cereal, which has bat shaped marshmallows. We thought it was quite fitting.

So those are the stories I shared with the ministry team yesterday. I have to admit, though, that they are better in person because there are actions and noises that accompany them. But those are a few of the stories as to why I don't like bats and have considered them to be my archnemesis for the past several years.

A different kind of day in May

2009-05-04T19:52:00.005-05:00

I am the youngest of three boys. But it was very rare that I felt that way as I was growing up. I often had another brother or sister, or two or three, around the house. When I was born, I came into a house with two older brothers and two older sisters. At one time, I remember having two older brothers, and three younger brothers and one younger sister. Some of them stayed for just a night or two. Some stayed for a couple of weeks or months. A few stayed longer than that.

You see, until the time I was 13 years old, my parents were foster parents.

So besides my brothers Stephen and Aaron, I had quite a few other brothers and sisters. We've tried to remember all of them, and that's almost an impossible task, but here are some of the ones that I remember more vividly: Steve, Carlos, Lana, Lacey Dawn, Amber, Carmen, Jenny, Todd, Renae, Michael, Kevin, Jackie, Janet, Amy, Mike, Nick, Matt, Mark, Timothy, Daryl, Dawn, Jeremy, Brian, Brandon, Trisha (I think... those last four were siblings and four extra kids in the house was a bit much, so unfortunately Jeremy and Trisha, the younger two, were put with a different family in town). There were others whose names I don't remember. Like the boy who came to stay with us while Lana was there, and she shaved his head (it was a mutually agreed upon decision). And there are a few others whose faces I remember, but the names escape me.

But even those that I do remember are quite a few. And to have that many rotate in and out of one house in 14 years or so, doesn't give any sort of continuity or stability for these poor kids. A friend who works in the foster care system shared a little bit of information with me: The average young person living in foster care experiences one placement change a year. A young person who spends most of their life in foster care will likely have lived in at least 17 different places in his or her lifetime.

That's unfortunate, isn't it? That during a time in their life that would most likely be tumultuous and full of transition and uncertainty anyway (c'mon, it IS childhood and adolescence!), they'd be forced to endure even more by bouncing around from house to house, and family to family, hoping for a nice spot to land.

Well, May happens to be National Foster Care Awareness month. So why not go and make yourself aware of Foster Care and the young people who are affected by it? And then see if there is a way that you can get involved to help out.

You know, I don't know what happened to most of my foster brothers and sisters. I know of one or two that were adopted, some by family members. A couple contacted my parents years after they left our house, some of them now with children of their own. But as for the majority of them, I have no idea what happened to them. I'd like to think that they went on to lead happy lives. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't. But, I hope, for the time they lived with us they knew that at least two adults cared for them and wanted the best for them.

Why not be an adult like that in the lives of youth in foster care? Go here to find out how you can be!!

Oasis, part 2

2009-04-19T22:23:00.003-05:00

I feel as if I would be remiss if I were to skip talking about my seminary retread now that I'm home. So, this is going to be my attempt to put some things into words.

Seminary is many different things for many different people. For some, it's a mean to an end. They feel called to some sort of ministry or higher education, and they see seminary as the way to get there. Maybe they feel called to be a pastor, and to get there they know they need to go to seminary, and so it becomes a set of hoops to jump through so that they can achieve their goal.

For some it might be a stumbling block. They feel called to ministry, and know they need to go to seminary to achieve this goal. But, once they are there, it just seems to get in the way. Maybe it's the academics or the academic approach to theology. It could be that it stands in opposition to the theology they came with, or to some of their deeply held truths. Maybe they manage to get over the hurdle, maybe they don't. I've seen it happen both ways.

For some it's a place to be while their spouse goes to school. Maybe they see it as a family calling, and they feel as called to be there as their husband or wife. Or it could be they came with their fair share of struggle or disagreement.

For some it's a place of learning and growth. They are encouraged to think and question and theorize. Their knowledge is expanded, they are introduced to new ways of interpreting Scripture and looking at God. While, ideally, this would be true for everyone who attends, I have to say that this is not always the case.

And for some it's a strong community. The shared experiences and the common goals unite people in a way that many other communities are unable to do. As the seminarians and their spouses and families journey alongside each other, it strengthens bonds and creates friendship and kinship where it might not have otherwise formed.

For me, I'd have to say that it was a bit of all of them (except for the spouse thing). Naturally, I came to seminary because I felt God was calling me to be a pastor. And while I had my fair share of struggles, of times I wanted to shake the dust off my feet and leave, times I told my academic adviser I wanted to take a leave of absence, nights I had terrible dreams about upcoming Hebrew tests, through it all I managed to learn and grow in ways that I hadn't imagined at the outset. And the friendships I formed there are some of the strongest and most trusted that I've had.

So Wartburg Seminary has quite an important place in my life. And pretty much since the day I have departed I have been anxiously looking forward to the day, three years later, I would be returning along with all, or most, of my classmates. I could not wait to reunite with this particular community who had come to be an important part of my life. I wanted to reconnect and renew those bonds. I wanted a reminder of that fellowship that we had shared during our life together.

And I was not disappointed. Although the three days we shared was a bit more scheduled than I would have liked, and we were in sessions from after breakfast until the evening most days, there were opportunities to talk and reminisce and remember and enjoy the company of friends. I got to see good friends and play with their children. I was able to break bread (figuratively and literally) with them, to laugh and talk and cry with them. I got to hold babies and to worship alongside my friends. There were moments where it seemed like the past three years had not happened, as if it had only been yesterday that I had talked with my friends, because the connections were still as close and as strong as they were when we saw each other everyday.

Like my last post said, it was like an oasis. A place set apart to offer refreshment and renewal. It is a bit surprising that something I waited so long to arrive passed by so quickly, but then it isn't really because, unfortunately, that seems to be the way it goes. Time flies when you're having fun, apparently.

Toward the end of our time together, someone spoke up and said that 3 years ago, our good-byes didn't seem so final because we knew that in three years we'd be gathering together again for our retread (although it didn't make them any less tearful). We said that as we neared the end of our time together, it was beginning to seem a bit more final because we weren't sure when we would see each other next. The only other reunion that the seminary sponsors is the 40 year anniversary and, truth be told, there are many people in our class (much loved people) who probably won't make it to that one, as they are second (or third) career pastors. So in our discussions we decided that we needed to get together again, even if it meant planning it on our own. And so we've agreed to meet again in 2012, in three more years, to reconnect again, to get together with all of our friends and classmates in a broader and more intentional way.

And so now I begin the journey of this next 3 years, excited to see where I'll get to go and what I'll get to do, but always aware of that bright spot on the horizon where my friends will be waiting for me.

my oasis

2009-04-14T23:55:00.002-05:00

So, after a busy season of Lent and a lot of worships in a very short time during Holy Week and Easter, I now find myself away enjoying some relaxation and reconnection.

Wartburg Seminary invites its graduates back for a three year retread. So, three years after you've graduated you're invited to come back and reconnect with your graduating class, as well as help the seminary evaluate its curriculum.

I have been excited about this for almost three years. I knew that this would be the first time I would see many of my classmates after graduation, as we've been spread hither and yon. And seminary friends are great because even though you might be separated by great distances, and you might not be the best at keeping in touch, once you're together again you are able to pick up where you left off. It's like the time in between when you last saw each other and when you see each other again seems to shrink and fade.

Except, it's still obvious that the time has passed. Children who were a little more than a year old when we parted ways after graduation are now four. They are talking like crazy and running around. There are many new kids among us, who have arrived during the in between time. And we've all had a lot of experiences and adventures in the past three years.

But it's been good to reconnect, to see each other again, to share our stories and hear the stories of others. It's comforting to hear that we share many of the same struggles, and that we've all experienced great joys. It's fun to hear and see the many ways that God has blessed each one of us since we graduated from seminary.

And as I sit here typing this, tired from a day of much activity and learning, and after having had a great supper with a large group of friends, and then a much quieter evening sharing stories and jokes with a smaller group of four friends, I can't help but think that our time here is short. In only a day and a half many of us will be parting ways again. Who knows, this time, when we'll get back together in such a large group or in such an intentional way. There will be many more experiences and adventures to face, many more sorrows and struggles and joys to experience. There will be much ministry given and received. As much as I don't look forward to the end of this time together, I am excited for all of the potential and the amazing gifts for ministry that have gathered together at this place for this short time, and I am excited for the people and the Church with which we will share these gifts, and I can't wait to hear about the stories that have not happened yet.

were you there?

2009-04-11T00:04:00.004-05:00

It's that time of the church year... The time when we pull out that old standard song "Were You There?" In fact, with all of the Good Friday services I've been to, we've already sung it twice. In one day.

Now don't get me wrong, I can appreciate it. It's an old spiritual, it's got some meaning and history to it. We can sing it, that's fine with me.

But you have to understand, I have some history with it, too.

We all have those moments. Those times in our lives that are just burned in our memory. It seems that no matter how much time passes, they will always stand out to us like they recently happened. Well, one of my moments involves this song.

You have to understand, that growing up I was never much of a singer. It wasn't until my senior year of high school that anyone ever told me I had a good voice. And it wasn't until college that I felt comfortable enough to sing by myself in front of people. Growing up, my mom always said I had a voice like her's, and we couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. I argue that it's because the most experience I had with singing was at church, singing the hymns in the pew next to her and trying to match pitch!

Anyway, in 5th grade during this time of year our children's choir director decided we were going to sing "Were You There." Only not as an entire choir, but as soloists. And she needed people to volunteer to sing the solos. Now, I'm not sure how I ended up with one. I don't know if I volunteered or if she chose me because no one else wanted to. It doesn't matter. What matters is that I was assigned the third verse.

So it came time to sing it in front of the congregation. Now, being a boy and being tall, that always meant I was in the back of the choir. But when it came time for me to sing my solo, the director wanted me to come to the front. So I did, and I started to sing.

"Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?" I started singing, and it was going ok.
"Were you there when they laid him in the tomb?" It was going well. I was gaining confidence and getting stronger.
"Ooooh, oooh, oooh ooooh. Sometimes it causes me to tremble... tremble... tremble..." I was really on a roll now.
"Were you there when they crucified m-" And that's when it hit me I was singing the end to the first verse and not the third verse. I had messed up. And, rather than finishing it out like that's what I was supposed to do, I stopped. And then I started to cry. And then I had to force my way back to the back of the choir and stand there and blubber until we were allowed to go sit back down.

People came up to me afterwards sharing all sorts of stories of how they messed up in various things they did. There were stories about pants unknowingly being unzipped, or people passing out during choir concerts. There was no shortage of stories. But the fact remained that I had messed up. And not only had I messed up but I had cried. In front of the church and my classmates and my friends.

So, to this day, when we sing that song I immediately go back to that church. I can see the sanctuary, the pews made out of blonde wood, the red carpet, my choir director's face. It's all there like it happened only days or months ago and not years upon years. And when it gets to the third verse and we start singing, the closer and closer it gets to that last part, I can still feel a little lump in my stomach that doesn't go away until I sing the right words to finish the verse.

And that's the story of my relationship with this song. It's not that it's a bad song, although it never has been one of my favorites. It's just that when it comes up, so does one of the many moments in my life that remind me I'm not perfect!

pickin' and grinnin'

2009-03-18T23:36:00.002-05:00

A couple posts ago I mentioned that we've been doing Holden Evening Prayer for our Wednesday night Lenten services. Well, I have something to add to that.

Tonight I played guitar at our services.

Now, I've been going to guitar lessons for a little while, but I have to admit I'm a bit of a slow learner, and my schedule hasn't always allowed me to make my weekly guitar lessons. So I'm probably not quite up to the level that I should be for having been in lessons as long as I have. But the woman who teaches my guitar lessons has been accompanying the services on her guitar, and after some conversation and practice, we both played tonight.

Now, my playing was not like her playing. She strummed some parts and she played arpeggios on others. While I, on the other hand, just strummed some chords, and not even all of them. I skipped some of them that I thought were too hard, or would take me too long to get my fingers to cooperate. But I played along as best I could.

But I was proud of myself because this was my first public display of my guitar playing. I've been hesitant because I'm not the most confident in my ability, and I like the safety of playing in my house. But I thought I'd step out of my comfort zone and play along at the services. And I'm glad I did.

Many people were very supportive and expressed that they liked seeing me playing up front and were glad that I was taking guitar lessons. Several made comments like, "You rock!" and "Good job, rock star!" In fact, one of our custodians actually made a sign that said "Rock Star" and held it up so I could see it after the service.

So, overall it was a great experience. It was a boost to my confidence as a guitar player, and encourages me to practice harder so that next week I can play it even better!!

a welcome guest

2009-03-16T23:56:00.003-05:00

The sun has been sticking around longer and longer each day.

A couple of days ago I saw geese flying overhead.

Yesterday I was able to go for a long walk outside wearing shorts.

Today I was able to go outside wearing shorts, again.

Tomorrow I'm planning on liberating my bike from the garage and going on a nice, long ride.

All these things add up to mean one thing: Spring is coming!

And I cannot wait.

You see, my friends, I don't pretend to be some mighty winter warrior. I will gladly tell you that I love warmer weather, where I can go outside in shorts and sandals. My brother says he prefers the cold because you can always add a layer of clothing, but when it's hot there is only so much you can take off. But I would rather be hot and sweaty than cold and shivering. I am, undeniably, a warm weather person.

But I realize I live in Minnesota. Cold winters come with the territory and so I try not to complain. I try to buckle down and make it through the winter. I put on long underwear. I wear sweaters and fleece and sometimes multiple socks. I wear a stocking cap and gloves.

But I have to admit, I am ready for this winter to be over. I have been cooped up inside and have had to trudge through snow and ice for too long. I have longed for bike rides and warm breezes. I have had my hopes dashed again and again by heavy snowfalls. So this warm weather is a much anticipated and extremely welcome guest.

Although, as I said, I realize I live in Minnesota. I am not so foolish as to believe that winter has breathed its last for the season. But I do know that Spring is coming. I can feel it.

And for that, I am excited.

top o' the morning

2009-03-15T12:14:00.003-05:00

Yesterday we had our annual St Patrick's Day celebration. Two years ago, at my first St Patrick's Day here in town, I was excited to go downtown to see the St Patrick's Day parade. All sorts of people talked about it and were planning on being there. As the weekend approached, I was thinking of all the parades that I had seen or participated in. I thought of floats and marching bands and horses and maybe even Shriners.

So I made my way down the street a couple of blocks toward the parade route. I ended up seeing a family from church, so I stopped and chit-chatted with them for a bit and then the parade started. It was led by a fire engine, then there was a horse drawn carriage bringing the grand marshalls (that year I think it was three women from the community), then there was the car carrying the mayor of the town.

What happened next was unlike any parade I've ever seen. Family after family bearing Irish last names paraded down the street, led by banners or signs carrying their names and sometimes their family coat of arms. Some were on wagons or trucks. Most of them just walked. People were dressed in green clothes and kilts and funny hats. They were waving and throwing candy. Then came the bag pipers, a troupe brought in from the Twin Cities, and then it was over and people dispersed to the restaurants and the bars for food and green beer.

Like I mentioned, it wasn't like any parade I had been to. I stood there for a minute, not sure what I had just seen and wondering if it was really over. No floats? No marching band? What kind of parade was that?!? I wasn't upset very long, however, because not ten feet away from where I stood was a booth selling cheese curds and corn dogs, and I was able to drown my sorrows in delicious greasy foods.

Since then, I have come to enjoy the parade. Sure it's nothing fancy, but we save our big parade for later in the summer, and then we go all out. The Saint Patrick's Day parade is just a day set aside to celebrate family and community and they do that pretty well here.

A couple months later, that first year, I went to my first German Day parade which is basically the same thing, except it's for the Germans and we wear red. Although on that day I was an honorary Schmidt and got to ride on their family's wagon. It was a lot of fun.

Oh, and on German Day they have professional wrestling set up in the street.

a place apart

2009-03-12T14:45:00.006-05:00

One Sunday morning, way back in the day (think early nineties), I was sitting in the basement of our church in our 8th grade Sunday school room. I don't remember what we were talking about that particular day, though I do remember we called ourselves the LYON cubs (LYON stands for the Lutheran Youth Organization of Nebraska, which is the high school youth organization and since we weren't yet in high school, our teacher thought it would be fun to call us the LYON cubs... which caused a ruckus with the high schoolers, primarily my older brother, because we hadn't asked permission to use the name LYON). Anyway, back to my story, we were sitting there going through whatever lesson our teacher had planned for that day when our Pastor came in.

Now, I was very familiar and friendly with our pastor, Pastor George, because his family was good friends with our family. My dad is a pastor, as well, and was currently the Program Pastor (fancy name for chaplain, really) at the Martin Luther Home in town, which was a residential facility for adults with developmental and physical disabilities. So we attended this church as members.

Even though I have no recollection of what we were supposed to be learning that day in class, I distinctly remember what Pastor George was there to talk to us about. It seems that every summer they would take their 8th grade confirmation students to camp, so he was stopping in to talk to us about it and see who was interested. I definitely was, and so I wrote my name on the list of people who were.

That summer, it finally got to be time to go to camp. My parents brought me to church, where the van was sitting in the parking lot, and we loaded our stuff up and then set off on the road. Pastor George was driving, and then there was me and four girls. I was the only boy that had signed up to go and, while that made me a little nervous, I was still pretty excited to be going to camp.

When we arrived at camp, the minute we stepped out of the van we were greeted by some of the loudest and happiest people I had ever met. These counselors bounded up to us, offering to carry our stuff and to help us get registered and situated at camp. I remember we walked up to a table where more loud and happy counselors were seated, and there were two boards. Each board had hooks on them, and hanging from these hooks were little wooden tags designating what bunkhouse we'd be living in for that week, and then what group we'd be doing activities with during the day. One counselor, whose name was Daryl, was a big African-American guy. He was cracking jokes left and right, giving the campers and other counselors a hard time. I liked him right away, and so I looked to make sure that I picked to stay in his bunkhouse. He told me later that he noticed me looking at his nametag and he thought I was trying to avoid being in his cabin. Pastor George was standing by me as I made my selections and he told me that he had seen two of the girls from our church pick one of the camper group (we called them villages) and he pointed out which group they had chosen, so I took that one, as well.

That week was pretty amazing. Our village was a lot of fun. Our counselors Daryl and Jen were awesome, they were friendly and seemed like they really enjoyed hanging out with us. The other campers in my village were pretty funny and we all got along really well. It was a great way to spend a week of my summer. I had such a great time that by the end of that week I was vowing to come back and be a counselor there when I was old enough.

Well, then I entered high school and my summers became filled with working and hanging out with friends. Summer camp got pushed to the back of my brain and I never did go to senior high camp or sign up to be a Counselor-In-Training like we had said we were going to do on the van ride home. Camp was slowly becoming a distant memory in the back of my mind.

And then I moved to college. I enrolled at Dana College, a private liberal arts ELCA college, which was appealing to me because it was small, it was Lutheran, it was far enough from home, and my older brothers weren't there. Immediately I became involved with the campus ministry at college, and I met some fun and faithful people there. One day, as I was walking out of our campus center after breakfast on my way to class, I saw a poster on the door. It said, "We are looking for 75 ordinary people to do extraordinary things." I was intrigued, so I stopped and read the rest of it. It was advertising for summer camp jobs at the camp I had attended in 8th grade. It said at the bottom if we were interested in working there then we should contact our campus recruiter who just happened to be one of my new campus ministry friends.

So I mentioned to her that I was interested and she got really excited. We talked a lot about camp, and she let me know when the Program Director from camp would be on campus recruiting. So I filled out an application and sent it in, and then when the Program Director was around I met her for an interview. We had a good conversation, and I ended up with a job offer, which I gladly accepted. So when the summer arrived I packed a couple rubbermaids full of clothes and other necessities, put them in my parents' car and we drove out to camp.

The minute we arrived at camp and I stepped out of the car, I was met by some loud and happy people. They bounded over to our car, offering to help carry my things. I think my parents were relieved that the place they were dropping me off at was filled with such nice and friendly people. So we unloaded my stuff, I hugged my parents good bye and they drove away.

And my life was never the same.

Those summers spent at camp were some of the most amazing of my life. It was at camp that I was exposed to the idea of full-time ministry. Even though my dad was a pastor, it had never occured to me that maybe I was called to some form of ministry. We had always gone to small, solo pastor churches where my dad was the only staff member besides the secretary. I had never met a full-time youth director or even known that it was a real job. But at camp I met so many great and unique and fun pastors and youth directors. It was really those summers that I felt God calling me to a life in the Church.

One of the youth directors that I met, and really liked, just happened to work at the church just down the street from where I went to college. Because of our connection at camp, I ended up attending that church and volunteering for several years with their youth. I helped lead Sunday morning youth group, I chaperoned trips and events. It was a great way for me to continue to be involved in youth ministry outside of camp.

I ended up working at camp for three amazing summers during college. To this day I believe that they were some of the greatest times of my life. Camp provides an amazing atmosphere for both the campers and the counselors. The campers get the experience of Church outside of the walls of the church. They get to engage in Bible study in the midst of God's great creation. They have the opportunity to be in a place where, hopefully, they don't have to have the same identity or labels placed on them that they do back in their regular lives - they have the chance to have a clean slate. It also gives them the opportunity to meet Christian young adults who are taking a summer of their lives to spend time with them, foregoing other summer jobs that might offer more money for the opportunity to live and work and play in that setting.

And it's good for the counselors, too. It gives them the opportunity to come together in an intentional community, to live together with people with a shared purpose. Like what happened with me, it gives them the opportunity to meet and engage with all sorts of church workers and volunteers, and maybe plants the seed of a call to ministry in their hearts. It gives them the opportunity to stretch and grow and practice their leadership abilities. And, like the campers, it often gives them the chance to have a clean slate, to start over, to be someone new and different in this place set apart. It also gives them the chance to meet some great new people and form some amazing new friendships.

To this day, camp remains an important part of my life. During my time in seminary, while I wasn't able to be as involved as I would like or in the ways that I would prefer, I did have some great opportunities through Wartburg Youth Leadership School as well as the Two By Two program which was a partnership between all eight ELCA seminaries and many of our outdoor ministries to experience several different camps and retreat centers. Now, as an associate pastor, I get excited for the summer, when I'll have the opportunity to take a busload of 7th and 8th graders out to the camp we attend, so that they will have the chance to have the same sort of experience and life-changing relationship with camp that I have been fortunate enough to have. And for the past year I've also served on the Board of Directors for the camp we attend.

So, what it boils down to is that I think camp is an amazing place. One which I think everyone should have the opportunity to experience. As a camper, as a counselor or other staff member, as an adult, as a volunteer... Camp is amazing because it provides a place set apart for us to experience being Church outside the walls of the church, and it continues to be important not only to me, but I believe to the life of the entire Church.

let my prayer rise up like incense

2009-03-11T20:53:00.002-05:00

One of my favorite worship settings is Holden Evening Prayer. It was written for the Holden Village winter community in 1986 or 87... I can't remember which. In fact, at Holden Village where it is still done on a weekly basis, it's simply called Vespers '86 (or 87, depending on which year it is. I'm almost positive it's 86).

My first exposure to this service was my freshman year at college. We had our weekly Wednesday night vespers service and we always worshiped using Holden Evening Prayer. It's an amazing setting, the music just flows and the lyrics are well written. I like the melody and the whole service just has a nice, relaxed flow to it. I almost always feel like I've worshiped well after participating in this service.

Since college, I've had the opportunity to do Holden Evening Prayer at other places, such as retreats and conferences, and even at Holden Village itself. It continues to be a meaningful worship experience for me.

So, on a whim, I suggested to my Senior Pastor that perhaps we could do it for Lent this year. Now, I understand with the texts and the lyrics in this service that it's more appropriate for Advent, as it talks about the Light of Christ and one of my favorite parts of it is a musical setting of the Anunciation and Magnificat (when the angel announced to Mary that she would give birth to Jesus and then her response). So Lent is not the most appropriate season of the church year to do it, but as it's the only season that we meet for worship in the evenings, we can make it work.

And we have been making it work. Today was the second week that we did it (Ash Wednesday was a more traditional Ash Wednesday service), and I think it went well. It's a very new service to our congregation, but they have done well with it. I'm not sure how they feel about it, because I think I have been pretty vocal about how I'm in favor of it, so I don't know people would let me know if they didn't care for it. But the responses I have gotten, even on the sermon note responses from our Confirmation students, is that they like it. So, that's good.

It's been a nice change, to break away from the same format that we've had the past couple years and to expose our congregation to something different and encourage them to try it. There are so many fun and creative and diverse ways to engage in authentic and meaningful worship and I love helping our congregation explore and find ways to do that. Hopefully this is just the start of something...

i never was a big fan of the teeter totter

2009-03-11T01:49:00.003-05:00

On the playground, I was never a big fan of the teeter totter. I preferred to run around and play active games. The idea of sitting on the end of a plank and bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down was never high on my list of priorities. I had too much energy and too many places to be and too many people to talk to and I didn't want to spend any of my recess time rising and falling.

Now I'm much older and I don't see very many teeter totters anymore. But, even if I did, I probably still wouldn't use them. Besides my height, which takes away a lot of the intended fun of a teeter totter, many of my reasons are the same. To me, the idea of rising and falling and rising and falling and rising and falling... is not that appealing.

And that goes doubly so with this weather.

We've had a long and cold winter. Now, as spring is approaching, we've had several days that were warmer and nicer. There were days I went outside with no coat, and even days I considered wearing shorts. They were days that were full of the promise of spring, when we were on the high end of the teeter totter.

But then, these days have been followed by cold weather and more snow. Right when it seemed like my yard might be finally free of snow, the warm weather and sunshine doing it's best to melt all of it, we'd get dumped on again and my yard would be a barren tundra once more.

Now don't get me wrong. I don't hate the snow and cold weather. If I did, then I don't think I'd be living here in Minnesota. I like snow, and am a fan of winter activities. The thing that I don't like is this teeter totter weather. If you want to be cold, then stay cold. Don't tease us with these warm days only to snatch them away and cover us with more snow. I say give us the warm days when you're ready to keep going with the warm days and stop with the cold days. This whole teeter totter business is just no good.

But I'm consistently reminded that I am not in charge of the weather. Try as I might, there is nothing I can do to make it do what I want it to. Spring will eventually come, and that will lead into a beautiful (and much longed for) summer. But, until then, I imagine I'll have to put up with a couple more rises and falls of the teeter totter... regardless of how I feel about it.

get out the map

2009-02-24T14:47:00.006-06:00

My life has become much easier since the concept of GPS has been introduced to my life. I'm not quite sure how I really got much of anywhere before I had a little computerized person in my car telling me where and when to turn. Especially since moving up here closer to the Twin Cities, where I'm often required to drive into Minneapolis or the suburbs for various synod events and committee meetings. I jokingly tell people that if it weren't for my GPS I would probably still be driving around trying to find my way home.

But, because of my GPS system, I now have a nice, British woman guiding me to my destination. She tells me where to turn, and even alerts me when my next turn is coming up. If, for some reason, I am unable to turn when she tells me, or take the exit off of the highway that she wanted me to, she'll quickly figure out a different route. It has been pretty great to have that service at my finger tips.

Sometimes I wish that God would give me a GPS for my life. It would be there to guide me, tell me what decisions to make, which way to go. I wouldn't have to worry about what to do and when to do it, because the GPS (Godly Positioning System) would tell me. I wouldn't have to wonder and worry if I'm lost, if I'm somehow not on the path intended for me, or that I might have made a wrong turn back there at Albequerque.

It would make life's decisions pretty easy, I think. There'd be no risk. I'd always know, for certain, that I was on the right road because there would be that nice, British voice telling me so.

But, when I think about it, maybe that's not such a good thing. Sometimes the joy of driving is just seeing where you end up. There is adventure in trying to find a place on your own. And one thing I've noticed is that if I rely on my GPS to give me turn by turn directions, I often don't pay as close attention as I should to where I'm going, and I miss street names and landmarks that could help me figure out how I got there in the first place.

So, maybe we're not given a GPS from God because the destination isn't what's important. It's the journey there that is.

external motivation

2009-02-19T00:02:00.004-06:00

I have found that, if I want to motivate the young people to do things, I need to offer them some sort of incentive. They like to know that they are getting something out of the deal.

One thing I've also found is that, when looking for ideas for motivation, allowing the youth to do something mean to me works really well. For instance, for one of our activities where we are raising money for world hunger, I have said that if we make it past a certain amount, I will shave my head. And not only that, but the youth that is the biggest individual fund raiser gets to be the one to use the clippers on my head. I am not sure if they will reach the goal, but many of them are determined to do it.

As a part of our Confirmation program, sermon notes have been something that have been hard to get our young people excited about. For some reason, filling out a worksheet about the worship service is not at the top of many of their priority lists. So I've tried to find ways to make them more exciting or appealing.

Well, I've come up with an idea. And it does seem to be motivating many of the kids. This year we've started requiring our 5th and 6th graders to take sermon notes, though not as many as our Confirmation kids, but the reward is the same for them. And today we had our first young person reach the goal amount of sermon notes. It happened to be a 6th grader. Everyone was excited to see the reward. There were camera phones galore to document the event. I had even given my camera to one of the kids, and she snapped some good pictures. So, I thought I'd share one so you could see what the reward was.

Here it is:

a picture is worth a thousand words

2009-02-15T21:59:00.004-06:00

My church is beginning to get ready for a new pictorial directory. We've had the representative from the photography place come and talk to our church council, and we've slated two weeks for the portrait taking. So it's understandable why this would be on my mind. Which might explain part of the reason why I dreamt about it last night. But, let me tell you the rest of the dream.

All of the planning and portrait taking was over, and the directories had come out. I was excited to see my picture in there, and so I looked in the front and saw my official pastor picture. As I flipped through to my picture amongst the other member photos, I was a little surprised that it wasn't there.

Eventually, I did end up finding it. Apparently, I didn't want to take my picture all alone so I had picked some random people (they might have been an actual family, I remember it was an adult male and female, and then a young boy and girl) to pose in my picture with me. We had these cheesy family picture poses and I was grinning like a maniac.

It wasn't in the right spot, because they had given me the wrong last name. Instead of my own, I had the last name of Noah and Laura, two adults who are active in our high school ministry, and so I was the picture right before their family portrait. I remember being flabbergasted that my last name could have been wrong in a pictorial directory for the church where I serve as one of their pastors.

But, also, I found it extremely amusing.

can i be honest for a second?

2009-02-11T23:19:00.004-06:00

When you are in seminary, everything is so academic and theoretical. There is some practical stuff, but truthfully, it's hard to accurately portray and teach practical knowledge in the classroom. It's something that needs to be experienced, or practiced, and that's why it's practical.

So, when you go to teach Confirmation, and you find that most of your time is not spent dealing with the academic or the theoretical, but is instead focused on getting kids to focus and listening, and maneuvering people around, and trying to find ways to teach the information but also entertain a large group of junior high kids, and coping with young people with behavioral issues, and talking with small group leaders who have to put up with these kids and dealing with that fall out, and maintaining some sort of sanity and clarity of call can be tough when you're mucking through all of that.

Now don't get me wrong. I love these kids. There isn't one who I feel like I am incapable of sitting down and having a conversation with them. I know them by name, I can joke around with them, and more often than not I enjoy their presence. Even the ones with behavioral issues. But when you add all of this stuff together, in the span of one evening, it can be defeating. I mean, this is what I have felt called to do and this is most particularly where I feel my gifts lie. And so to have an evening turn out so disappointing can be a major blow to my ego and sense of call.

But then there is always something to balance out the bad. A conversation with one of the youth, or a 5th grader offering me a piece of his candy bar because he sees I need something, or the offer of a hug from an adult volunteer... These are things that make it worthwhile and remind me that even though one evening might not have gone as I planned and even though the craziness and unpredictability seemed to overshadow what I was hoping to accomplish, that I am doing something right. And that's helpful.

he's following me

2009-02-10T22:31:00.003-06:00

I have to admit that I am not a big fan of unfinished basements. There is something spooky or eerie or creepy about them. It used to be that I was afraid of them and hated to go down in them by myself. Now it's more of an unsettled feeling, but I can't avoid going in my basement because I'm the only one that lives here.

When I was on internship, there was this semi-basement/furnace room in the parsonage I lived in. It wasn't very big, probably just about big enough to put the furnace, water heater and then like a table or bed or something. But it was close enough to a basement to cause me to be unsettled.

And it didn't help that the water heater made some weird noises. They were noises that I compared to a man hitting things with a pipe. So that led me to create this story about some vagrant living in my furnace room and hitting and kicking things. I avoided going into that room as much as possible, and would "talk" to the person when I needed to go in the room. I'd offer him (or her) free access to the food in my pantry as long as they didn't harm me. I was weirded out a bit more when I saw that there happened to be a latch on top of the door, as if it were used to lock someone inside the room. I mentioned this to my supervising pastor and he laughed at me and said that the intern a couple years ago had small children, so it was used to keep people OUT of the room, not in.

Well, I think the furnace room person has followed me. I hear him downstairs kicking and hitting the furnace and water heater. Although I think he's a lot happier here, since he has an entire basement in which to spread out, and not just a small furnace room. I'm afraid that, at the moment, he might be a little disappointed in the lack of food in my pantry, and so I'm hoping that this doesn't cause him to go back on our deal and lash out at me in a hungry rage.

so, there's a new one, then?

2009-02-03T12:09:00.002-06:00

I led worship at the local nursing home today. It started off on a good note because we were moved into an actual room of our own today! The home has been under some construction, and so the past many, many months we've been shoved into one corner of this day room that is often quite full of other residents going about their business. One day, while I was in the middle of things, two aides came in pushing a car full of towels and proceeded to stock the shelves behind me. In the middle of worship! But, anyway, we were in a new room all by ourselves today in the newly remodeled section of the home. And this was nice.

When we lead worship, we bring this box to carry the wafers and wine for communion, as well as the binders for worship. These binders are large print and have the confession, Apostles' Creed and several hymns in them. Most of the hymns are old favorites, and so many of the residents don't even need the binders and they don't use them much.

One of the songs I like to sing quite often is "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." It's familiar, easy to sing, the people know it and like it, so it works out well for all of us. But when I lead it, I often have to suppress a giggle. You see, there's a line in the song that says, "Precious Savior, still our refuge..." Except there's a typo, and so instead it says "Previous Savior, still our refuge..."

Like I said, most of the people don't use the binders (though they're conditioned with their years of hymnal use and will still open to the correct pages) and so they don't notice the typo. But I follow along in the binder, just to make sure I get the right words, and so I see this typo every time.

And I can't help but wonder, if we have a Previous Savior, does that mean we have another one who is our Current Savior? And, if we do, then why is this Previous one still our refuge?

in case you couldn't tell... i'm joking.

flying south

2009-01-28T16:56:00.002-06:00

I'm about ready to head south. For real. I'm done with this winter, this subzero weather, the snow, the needing a space heater in my office so I don't freeze while I write my sermon.

So I'm flying south. To New Orleans. In a little more than 12 hours. And it's going to be GREAT!

And it's for work!

I will be attending the ELCA Youth Ministry Network Extravaganza, an annual event held in various cities for youth ministry workers in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. It's an opportunity to network, to attend different workshops, hear speakers and listen to bands that are actually somewhat affordable, and this year it gives us an opportunity to scope out New Orleans which is where the ELCA National Youth Gathering is being held in July.

So I go from having never been to New Orleans ever, to being there two times this year. Kinda crazy.

Some of my best friends in the entire world will be attending this event, as well, and so I'll get the chance to hang out with them! Of course, that's secondary to all of the learning that I'll be doing there. Of course it is...

For once, all of my laundry is done, my bags are packed and I am ready to go before 5 minutes before I need to leave. Normally I'm yanking clothes from the dryer before they're completely dry and shoving them in my bag as I run out the door. But this time I was ahead of the game. I started laundry YESTERDAY! And they said I couldn't be taught!

So I have completely dry clothes in my bag, and I went entirely against my nature and made a list of the things I thought I'd need and so they are all packed, as well. My bags are sitting in the middle of the floor, waiting for me to zip them up and put them in the car. Then I'm driving to stay with some friends before we have to be at the airport around 4am tomorrow morning to head south. I think my mind is already basking in the southern sun in the Big Easy.

But I can't leave yet. I have to go over for our 5th and 6th grade Wednesday night pre-confirmation classes, and then I have a meeting about our summer mission and National Youth Gathering trips. But as soon as those are done, I am ON! MY! WAY!

oh, and i'm excited about it. in case you didn't know.

thanks for calling

2009-01-27T08:05:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I was supposed to drive a little ways away to a nursing home in another town to visit a member of my congregation. The only other time I'd been to this town was for a summer Christian music festival with some of the youth from church, and then I didn't drive and there was a lot of road construction, so we took a weird way, and I didn't really know how to get there. And, even when I did get there, I wasn't sure where the nursing home was, or if there was more than one, or if she had really arrived at the nursing home yet. So, I used Google and found a nursing home in the town and I called it to see if this was indeed where I needed to go.

When I called I got an automated response, telling me to enter the extension of the person I was calling or wait for more options. So I waited, and then the computerized woman kept going listing the options. I thought that #2 was admissions, so I figured that would be place to talk to so that I could see if she were there. So I pressed 2.

A guy answered the phone and sounded kind of like he was eating, and I didn't really understand what he said. So I said, "I'm calling to see if a member of my church has been admitted. Is this the place to call?"

His response was, "Well, I guess it'll work. Who ya lookin' for?"

I was a little taken aback by this response, so I stammered and stumbled a bit, and then I told him the name of the woman.

"Ok. And this is...?" he responded.

Really? Is this how this guy was talking to me? He had no idea who I was, but was supposed to be representing the nursing home to the public and he definitely was not being very professional. I felt like it was an inconvenience for him to talk to me.

So, I said, "I'm her pastor."

And then it was as if a switch was flipped and he was suddenly very friendly. "Oh! Yes! She's here!"

I've talked with my senior pastor about this experience. He said that staff at places like that are supposed to be a little leary about people who call asking if people are there. They are supposed to protect the residents and part of that is knowing who is inquiring about them and why. And that is why, when he has to make those sorts of inquiries, he always leads off with who he is. He plays the "pastor card" right away.

And I get that. I understand that they are protecting their residents and I support them in that endeavor. But, seriously, if you are answering the phone for your place of employment, and you don't know who is on the other end, I think it calls for some tact, for some politeness, maybe even some friendliness. If anybody from the public can call, and with the touch of a button be transferred to you, then you are serving as the public voice of your institution or place of employment and I think it calls for certain standards of behavior.

Does anybody else agree?

Adventures in cooking

2009-01-25T20:01:00.003-06:00

I want to be a good cook. I think that taking all of these various ingredients, that may or may not taste good on their own, and putting them together to make something that tastes good is really cool. And maybe a good analogy for the church? Well, it's something to think about, anyway.

But, despite my best intentions, my attempts haven't always been that successful. Two prominent attempts that come to my mind are a time I tried to bake bread, and a time I tried to make vegetarian lasagna. The bread turned out kind of hard and tasted funny (or there was the time I think I killed the yeast). Then, with the vegetarians lasagna, I wasn't aware of the excess moisture that spinach can create. And so my lasagna turned out to be pretty soupy.

There have been times when things turn out good, and the food tastes good and everyone likes it. Of course, those times aren't as burned into my memory as the others are.

I'm still trying to figure out what my adventure today should be classified as.

I made lentil loaf, a dish that I got out of the Holden Village cookbook. It's kind of a running gag in the Village, but supposedly it can also be really good. Since, during my visits to the Village I have never been blessed to try it, I thought I'd give it a shot. It didn't seem like a lot of work, until I got into it.

First, I had to get the lentils. You think that sounds easy, but my first attempt was fruitless. Maybe it's because I don't know where to look for them, but I thought they'd be by the beans. That's a good guess, right? Well, they weren't. So I looked in the organic section. They weren't there, either. And this is at a grocery store. I looked up and down every aisle. But I couldn't find them. So I ended up buying the rest of the food, and then I drove to another place to look for them. It was looking like it might be hopeless, there, too (is it REALLY that hard to buy lentils?) but I was walking through the "Hispanic" aisle and happened to glance down by the black and pinto beans and there they were.

Well, once I got home I needed to start boiling the water for the lentils. And I needed to chop up all the vegetables (and I decided to add some other kinds not listed in the recipe). As I was boiling the lentils, chopping the carrots and celery, and sauteing the mushrooms and onions, I looked at the recipe and realized I hadn't started the rice yet. So I took the mushrooms and onions off the burner and put on a pot of water and instant rice.

Then I combined all of the ingredients and spices into the bowl and started mixing them. I even resorted to using my hands so that I could make sure it got mixed up.

There are two things I learned/was reminded about today in this cooking adventure: 1) When it says 3 cups of cooked rice, that does not mean you should prepare 3 cups of uncooked rice. It expands and ends up being a lot more than what you started with. And 2) A recipe in a cookbook is often intended for more than one person, and so to make a recipe by the book means that you'll have a lot of food leftover. So now my freezer is full of little rubbermaid containers of lentil loaf.

Well, I should say "lentil mush." You see, afterthe oven timer went off, and I took the TWO pans out and put them on the cupboard to set, and then sliced into one and moved it onto my plate, it sort of fell apart. It wasn't really understanding the whole "loaf" idea. I let them set a bit longer before I tried to put them into the containers, and each time they fell apart. But, it tasted ok. If I make it again, I might tweak the recipe, add some more vegetables, mushrooms and cheese (I added cheese as an extra that wasn't in the recipe), and maybe more tomato paste so that it will stick together better. Is that my problem? Does anybody reading this know?

Obviously, this is NOT how my loaf turned out. I had wanted to provide a picture to show off my culinary skills, but didn't think that, with the way mine turned out, it was all that worth showing off since it didn't look that great, but tasted ok. And you can't taste pictures. So, even though this is not my lentil loaf, it looks similar as far as color and texture and whatnot. So I thought I'd share it with you all so you could get some idea of what mine looks like. So picture that but a bit more crumbly and then you get mine! Exciting, I know! So, plans are in the works for my next cooking adventure, but I think I need to clean up after this one by both washing the dishes and eating all the leftovers. I have a couple cookbooks that I've been meaning to try recipes out of, so we'll have to see what I'm brave enough to try next!!!

our own version of Friends

2009-01-23T22:38:00.005-06:00

Yesterday after work I drove up to the other side of the Cities to spend some time with good friends. Way back in the day during my first year of seminary, I got to be good friends with some people through our weekly Thursday night television viewing parties. We got connected through a program at seminary that tried to connect single people with families on campus. My friend Erin and I, who lived in the dorms and were good friends, got connected to two married couples, Mike and Tammy and Nate and Jill respectively. Mike and Tammy had three boys and, at that time, Nate and Jill were childless. We'd get together and have dinner, and then we'd watch Survivor and Friends and ER. We'd get pretty intense while watching Survivor, trying to guess who was going to get voted off and rooting for our favorites. These friendships morphed into pretty close relationships, and involved fun things like me accompanying Mike and Tammy and their family on a trip to Disney World, and then living with them for a summer in Duluth while I did my Clinical Pastoral Education as a chaplain at Saint Mary's Hospital there.

Well, as people do, we all moved away from seminary. Erin moved to Colorado, Nate and Jill to North Dakota. Mike and Tammy moved up to northeast Minnesota and then, last but not least, I ended up moving to where I'm at now. But then, Mike ended up taking a call at a church here in the Cities. When they were looking for someone to head up their youth ministry staff, he called Erin and she interviewed and ended up moving here to work with him. So, except for Nate and Jill, our original Thursday night group is close together.

So I ended up driving up there last night. Of course, our TV viewing has changed. We didn't watch Survivor, because the new season hasn't started, and Friends, of course, has long ago ended. We've since added Grey's Anatomy to our roster of shows and now Private Practice. Although last night we opted to record Private Practice so that we could watch Aladdin. Josh, Mike and Tammy's middle son, tried out for his school's production of Aladdin and was given the part of Jafar. So we had cake and pop and watched the movie last night to celebrate. Erin and I performed a duet of "A Whole New World" but were given instructions that she was to sing the part of Aladdin and I was to sing for Jasmine. There are some great pictures that were taken, but they are on Tammy's camera. If I can get a hold of them, I'll be sure to share them. Though I should tell you now, the microphones we are using in the pictures are empty bottles of IBC Root Beer and NOT any sort of alcoholic beverage container. We were in complete control of our faculties when we did this...

Then the rest of our night was spent playing massive amounts of Mario Kart. This takes me back to my seminary days, as well, as a group of us who lived in the dorms would get together to play Mario Kart and other games. We would get pretty intense in these games and, when I'm playing the game with an 8th and 5th grader, I need to remind myself to not be as ruthless as I was against my seminary classmate friends! One of the other games we'd play in seminary was a James Bond shoot 'em up game. One time, when we were playing, we happened to notice that the character of M (I think) happened to bear a striking resemblance to one of our seminary professors. This made me love the character even more, so I would often play as that character. We then named several of the other characters after other seminary professors, and sometimes after particularly stressful classes or meetings with certain professors, we'd meet for some stress relief in our friend Kevin's room and take out our aggressions on these professors (often we'd do "slappers only" which meant there were no guns, so we'd run around and open-hand smack each other which provides tons of humor to the game). One day, while we were venting about a certain professor, Kevin happened to get a phone call. As he was on the phone, I may have shouted "Die [professor]! Die!" as I attacked the character with my slappers. Well, it turns out that the person on the other end of the phone happened to be the registrar of the seminary. I should point out that I had and still have a lot of respect for this particular professor and would never actually hope for them to die. I am not sure that violence is ever a good answer for anything, but sometimes video game violence can be helpful in dealing with stress.

Anyway, I guess this rambling mess of a blog entry is just to say that, in many ways, my current life is echoing my seminary experience. Sure the characters have changed, they've gotten older and maybe a bit grayer (or in my case balder), but we are still finding ways to get together, share in fellowship, support each other and play together.

It's been great.

lunch for the little ones

2009-01-21T21:47:00.006-06:00

So, we had confirmation tonight. It was our scheduled visit to Feed My Starving Children, which is a Twin Cities based organization that partners with several organizations like Cargill and Pillsbury to package and provide nutritious meals for children in developing countries. They rely mostly on volunteer labor, which would be groups like our confirmation class coming to package and box up these meals to be sent. It is a perennial favorite. The kids love it, the parents love it, I love it and we get to do good work.

The meals are made up of rice, soy, vegetables and a chicken flavoring/ vitamin supplement. The kids work in groups scooping these ingredient into little bags, which are then sealed and put in boxes. My job, as it has been the past two times I've gone with the group, has been in the warehouse. This means that, when someone is running out of rice or soy or vegetables or chicken flavoring, I have to rush in and switch it out with a full bin. Then I have to take the empty bin back into the warehouse, fill it back up, and take it back out and put it with the other full bins. When they have a box full of sealed bags, then I have to take that box back into the warehouse, weigh it, tape it shut and then place it on the pallet. If they need more empty boxes, I have to go back to the warehouse and get them empty boxes. If there are no more empty boxes, I have to label and tape up more empty boxes. It is an active job, keeps me moving and doing something, and that's good for me. Luckily, I wasn't the only one doing it. It keeps several people busy and moving and running around.

The amazing thing about these bags of food is that they are pretty inexpensive, costing around $1.00 a piece. And this one bag, which is about the size of a bag of coffee from the supermarket, can feed six people. Sadly, I wasn't in the room when they told us how many boxes we packaged and how many people we would be providing meals for, so I can't relay that information to you. But I do know that those kids worked hard and I carried a lot of boxes back to the pallet in the warehouse. At the end, I was tired and sweaty from running back and forth and carrying so much stuff around. But I still felt good to know that I spent two hours of my life helping provide food for hungry children.

We watched a video at the beginning (I think it's the same one we've watched the past two years, too) and they interview this young girl who is having her birthday party there. Maybe I'll call and see if I can schedule my birthday party there this year. Celebrate 32 years of life on this earth by providing food for other people. I don't know any way that could be better.

for more info, head over to http://www.fmsc.org and check it out!

lunch with the ladies

2009-01-20T15:41:00.004-06:00

I should be better at posting on this thing. I mean, I like to write and it's not like I lead a boring existence! There is usually something worth mentioning that happens around this place, maybe not everyday but at least a couple times a week. I'll try to do better [imagine me giving my best penitent look].

So, today the quilters were at church. They always come in at some point during the day (my office is nestled back in the corner, away from the front entrance, so I'm never quite sure exactly when they make it here) and after quilting away for a good portion of the day, they convene in the kitchen for coffee and a light slunch? lupper? What IS the correct term for the afternoon equivalent of brunch? They always call down to the office when they're all ready and in the kitchen, to let us know that it's time and we should head up to join them.

I have learned that it is in my best interest to go to this. For several reasons. The first is that it is free food and it comes at a time in the afternoon when I'm ready for a snack. So it usually hits the spot to join the ladies, even though the food might not be what I would choose for myself. For instance, a regular favorite is braunschweiger (which, if you're not quite sure what it is, is this almost spreadable meat product made out of pork liver, I believe). Another is pickled herring, although that hasn't made an appearance for a while. There is usually this cream cheese based cracker spread that one of the ladies makes (and I must admit is pretty good), as well as a variety of desserts. Today, someone made rosettes. Yummy! So, although it's not exactly what I would choose for my own snack, it's all free food, and I've never been too picky when it comes to food. Especially if it's free. So I'll gladly join the ladies for some munchies.

Another reason is that they often give me leftovers. Many times I'll bring home a foil wrapped plate stacked with cookies and summer sausage and crackers and, yes, braunschweiger. It provides an evening snack for that day. Or, as is the case today, it vanishes pretty quickly. They gave me a plate of rosettes which didn't last very long. Truthfully, they were gone about 10 minutes after I was back at the office.

But the most important reason is what happens when I don't go. Several months ago I was in the middle of something, so when the call came I opted to not go upstairs. That afternoon, I happened to be heading home the same time one of the ladies was. Now this woman is a kind, gentle, friendly woman. One would not guess that she would hurt a flea. But when I exited the church as she was getting into her car, she fixed her eyes on me in a gaze that could stop a charging rhino in his tracks. Her eyes burned right into my soul as she said, "You didn't come for coffee today."

Frantically, I tried to come up with the words to somehow fix the situation, and to stop her eyes from boring into my soul. "No," I said. "I was working on something in my office, and wanted to make sure I finished it."

"Hmmph!" She grunted as she got into her car, obviously not satisfied at all with my reason for snubbing them that day. I slunk back to my house, with my tail between my legs. I'm pretty sure that since that day, if I am in the church building, I have dropped what I was doing and headed up to the kitchen to join the ladies for coffee. A snack of braunschweiger and pickled herring sure beats having a hole burned in my soul.

songs of faith

2008-12-02T10:40:00.002-06:00

I just led worship at the Lutheran Home and senior apartments in town today. We have a notebook of selected hymns that we bring with us filled with old standards like Amazing Grace and Joy to the World and What a Friend We Have in Jesus. Many of the residents will use the notebooks to follow along, but there are some whose vision has dimmed with the years and are now unable to follow along in the notebook, but they know the words. They have sung them for years upon years and the words seem to be written on their hearts, so they sing along even though they can't see the words.

This makes me think about contemporary worship. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of lively worship, of music with guitars and drums and all of that fun stuff. But part of me wonders, when I'm 80 years old, sitting on my little scooter at the chapel in the nursing home, and a pastor comes in to lead worship, am I going to remember the words to "He Reigns" by the Newsboys or one of the songs by the David Crowder Band? Are those words going to be as meaningful and memorable to me as the words of these hymns seem to be to our older members today? I'm not sure.

What do you think?

do you know the muffin man?

2008-11-22T14:53:00.003-06:00

This has been a week of being busy at church.

This past Wednesday, I was at church for thirteen hours, with only maybe a cumulative time of 15 minutes being spent outside of the building once I stepped foot inside in the morning. I spent most of the day getting ready for Confirmation that evening. Which was frustrating in a number of ways.

First, I decided that I was going to use Power Point for the lesson, something I haven't done before but was the main reason we got a laptop when we replaced my work computer. So I spent some time coming up with fun slides when I was reminded by Cheryl, our custodian and jill-of-all-trades here at church, that my laptop wasn't working with the projector. We found that out the other day in church when we were using my laptop to show a Power Point slideshow while the handbell choir played, only to have it stop working about ten minutes before our first service. Luckily, Cheryl was also using her laptop to present her announcement about the brunch we are having at church as a celebration of our fall stewardship appeal.

So I went up to the sanctuary and hooked up my laptop to the projector only to find out that still didn't work, so I called Dell and spent about ten minutes talking to some computer hoping that it would transfer me to someone who could help me. I talked to the first person for about 10 minutes, giving him all the same information that I had given the computer I had been talking to, only to have him say that he was unable to help me and he'd transfer me to someone who could. So I got transferred again, this time to someone with an accent so thick it was difficult to understand him. Luckily, it only took this one about 2 minutes to say that he was unable to help me and he transferred me to someone else. My third person was a woman with no distinguishable accent, and we chatted for a bit, before she said she wanted to connect to my computer and that I needed to go to this particular website. Now, we only have internet in our offices at church, we don't have wireless or anything cool and modern like that, but there is a fairly strong wireless internet signal from somewhere else that we can pick up in the sanctuary. So I told her I could connect to it, but then my computer decided to be extremely slow, and then, finally, when I got connected to the website that I was supposed to connect to, I realized that I had been disconnected from my phone call.

So, I called them back, talked to the automated computer person for a couple minutes before getting connected to a guy who could immediately help me. He said to hit 'function' and 'f8' and it would then transmit the signal from my laptop to the projector. So I hit it, didn't see anything happen, hit it again and that's when hell broke loose. The best way I can think to describe it is that the connection between my laptop and the projector started to wig out and flash back and forth constantly. Only unhooking my computer from the projector would get it to stop. Turning my computer off, hooking it up to the projector and then restarting it did not help.

I decided that I would just have to suck it up and not do the Power Point thing. So I finished up the lesson in time for the Confirmation kids to start showing up. Since there are now sports for a few more weeks, I've noticed that we either have kids showing up extremely early or just right before Confirmation is supposed to start. I helped serve pizza to the kids, then sat with some 5th graders who are there for our new Wednesday night pre-confirmation classes for our 5th and 6th graders, and then taught Confirmation.

After that was over, we had our Senior High Youth Group in the youth room, led by Noah and Laura to great and awesome volunteers. Our Bible Study was led by Casey, one of the youth, and then we played this game called Intense, or Intensity, which involves hitting a raquetball ball with ping pong paddles. There are other rules, but it definitely is intense.

I happened to come upstairs when choir was over and Cheryl and her husband Curt were in the kitchen getting things ready for the brunch on Sunday. So, Sr Pastor Mark, Cheryl, Curt, Noah, Laura, and several others and I hung out in the kitchen and ate some ice cream that we needed to get out of the freezer so that they could have room for all of the food for the brunch.

So then, today, there was a group meeting over at church at 9:00 to help prepare food for the brunch, which is tomorrow. So I was over there a little ater 9 today, and helped make large amounts of cheesy hashbrowns, several pans of egg bake, I helped set the tables for 170+ people, and then helped mix up and bake 360 muffins of various flavors, and made it home a little after 2:00. At which point I sat in my chair and I don't think I've moved since then.

I don't really have big plans that include moving for quite some time, either.

sermon for 11/09/08

2008-11-09T22:40:00.002-06:00

I'm not sure how I feel about posting sermons that I've written. I don't have anything against other people sharing their sermons with the world. I think what I have a problem with is sharing MY sermon with the world. Preaching it to my congregation - who know me and who are there to see me preach it - is one thing. To put it out here on the internet, where there really is no accountability for people who want to rip it apart or say mean things about it, is another matter completely.

BUT, that being said, I received a few compliments on my sermon today. And it wasn't the usual suspects that I can often depend on for encouraging words about my sermons. It was from other people, some of whom I perceive to be more discerning in their sermon listening. So I thought that if they got something more from my sermon this week, maybe I should put it out there so that others might get something from it, too.

That being said, here's a brief explanation. Normally, we follow the Revised Common Lectionary, which is a schedule of readings for the church, during the church year. This is how we get the readings for each Sunday that are printed on the insert in the bulletin.

But we are in the midst of our Fall Stewardship Appeal. Our focus for these few weeks is GRACE, which is an acronym which stands for Grace Relationships Acceptance, Community and Education... I'm positive on all of them except the C... but as I'm not preaching on the C, it's ok if I can't quite remember what it stands for. Anyway, todays service was brought to us by the letter A.

As I thought about acceptance, I really wasn't moved by the Gospel reading assigned for this Sunday. In conversation with my senior pastor, we talked a lot about the story of the Samaritan woman at the well and how that was the theme verse for today for other parts of our stewardship drive. Immediately, after that story was named, thoughts and ideas flooded my head. I could tell this was going to be an easier angle.

When I sat down to write this sermon, I feel like it wrote itself. So, here you have a sermon about acceptance focusing on the story of Jesus and the woman at the well (John 4, in case you want to read it first...).

This is a very well known story from the Bible. It gets read a lot, and we talk about it quite a bit. And while I think that it’s a good thing to do, I think it’s also unfortunate because the story loses some of its punch. Because, for the people who would have heard this story back in Jesus’ day, it would have been quite the story. So what I’m going to try to do right now is share with you why this story would have been such a big deal for the people of that time.

So Jesus comes to the well in the middle of the day. Now, this was not the best time to be outside. It was noon, the middle of the day. The sun would have been at its peak and the heat would have made it pretty unbearable. People would have gone to fetch water from the well either early in the morning or later in the evening, when the heat of the sun was not as strong. It would be a rare occasion to find someone at the well during the heat of the day.

But Jesus does come across someone, and it’s a lone woman. Now the women, who would have been in charge of getting the water, would have gone together. It was a communal activity, giving the women a chance to talk and catch up on what was going on in the community. There’s also the idea of safety in numbers, and it would have been better for the women to be in a group.
Also, this is taking place on the outskirts of the city. That means that the chances are good that this was not the most used well. Most towns and cities would have had a well within the walls of the city. That way if an enemy approached, they could close the gates and still have access to a water supply. If the only water was outside the city limits, all the enemy would have to do would be to guard the well and the people of the city would eventually die of thirst.

Now Jesus is at this well, on the outskirts of the city, in the heat of the day and he finds this woman all by herself. This is not normal, and Jesus would have known that something was up. There was some reason why this woman was separated from the community.

As if that wasn’t enough, Jesus was Jewish and this was a Samaritan woman. Now, the Jewish people were big on cleanliness. There were rules and regulations about almost every aspect of living to make sure that they remained clean: from the foods they ate, to the activities they did, to the animals they could come into contact with, to the people they could associate with. And Samaritans were at the bottom of that list of people.

There were a couple of reasons why this was. The first is that the Samaritans were of Jewish descent, but they had mixed with other races. Since they were not of pure blood, they were unclean in the eyes of the Jewish people. The second is they followed the Jewish religion but not as strictly as the Jewish people. Because of their mixed cultural heritage, other things had blended into their religion as well. And so this made them heretics in the eyes of the Jewish people.

So for these reasons, the Jewish people did not interact with the Samaritan people. To do so would be to risk your own cleanliness and your own standing in Jewish society.

So Jesus is at the well, on the outskirts of the city, in the heat of the day and he finds this woman all by herself. And she’s a Samaritan woman and he’s a Jewish man. Neither of them had much business talking to the other. Jesus had his reputation to think about. Stopping to talk to this Samaritan woman who, for some reason, was on the outside of her community would have raised a lot of questions and risked making him unclean. The woman would have had strict gender roles to follow, so to talk to a strange man who was not a part of her family was simply out of the question.

There were plenty of reasons Jesus shouldn’t have talked to her. He should have kept on going, ignoring the fact that he saw her. He should have looked the other way and pretended like she wasn’t even there, which is probably exactly how many in her own community would have reacted to her.

But Jesus stops and he talks to her. He asks her to give him a drink. Now the woman is surprised, and she asks Jesus why he, who is a Jewish man, is asking a drink of her, a Samaritan woman. She’s aware of the way things are. She knows where she stands and what a Jewish person would probably think of her. So the fact that a Jew is acknowledging her, even to ask for a drink, takes her by surprise.

Now Jesus shifts the conversation and he stops talking about actual water. He says to her that if she had any idea who he was, and what he had to offer, she would ask him and he would give her living water. The woman still isn’t on board with him, she’s still thinking about real water. And she sees that he doesn’t have a bucket to get water, so she asks him how he would get this water that he offers.

Jesus tells her that anyone who drinks of the water from the well will be thirsty again, but those who drink from the water that he offers will never be thirsty, and it will become in them a spring bubbling forth and granting them eternal life. The woman still thinks he’s talking about actual water and this sounds good to her. If she were to drink this water, then she wouldn’t need to come to the well in the heat of the day. She wouldn’t be reminded every day of how she was not a part of her community, at least in the act of drawing water.

But then Jesus tells her to go call her husband and come back. And the woman says that she has no husband. And Jesus says, that’s right you’ve had five husbands and the man you live with now is not your husband. Back in Jesus’ day, a woman was not able to divorce her husband. It was entirely up to the man to divorce the woman. So, five different men have decided that this woman is not fit to be a wife and divorced her. We have no idea exactly why that is, but now she’s living with a man who is not her husband. And Jesus tells her that he knows that this is so.
Now the woman knows that Jesus isn’t what he appears to be, so she says he must be a prophet. Jesus then takes that opportunity to share the Good News with her. He tells her that the Jewish people might worship God in their temple, and the Samaritans might worship God on their mountain, but the hour is coming when that won’t matter and everyone will worship God in spirit and in truth. The woman tells Jesus that she knows the Messiah is coming and that when he does he will tell everyone this. And then Jesus tells her that he is the Messiah.

This is big news. This is the first time in the Gospel of John that Jesus has told someone he is the Messiah. And he chose a five time divorced Samaritan woman who is rejected by her own community and living with a man to whom she’s not married to share this information with. He didn’t choose some important, devout temple leader or someone else who was considered good enough or worthy enough. He chose to share this news with this woman on the outside.

And this woman is so touched and amazed and excited by this encounter with the Messiah that she leaves her water jar and goes running back into the city. She begins telling everyone what has happened, how she met this man at the well who has told her everything she has ever done, and she thinks he’s the Messiah. She immediately decides to share this Good News with the very people who have made her on the outside. She brings them to meet Jesus and through her testimony and their interaction with Jesus, many of these Samaritans came to believe in Jesus as the Messiah.

So let’s look at this. We have Jesus, offering acceptance to this Samaritan woman, even though she’s an outcast of her community, she’s been divorced 5 times, and she’s currently living with a man who is not her husband. But he still offers her this living water that will give her eternal life. She, in response, runs to the very community that has made her an outcast and shares with them this Good News that she has received at the well. She tells them about Jesus, about this life giving water that he offers, and how her interaction with him has changed her life. So these people follow her out to the well, they meet and interact with Jesus and come to realize that he’s the Messiah. And I think it’s safe to say that they probably accepted this woman back into their community. There is a lot of acceptance in this one short story.

So where do we fit in the story? I think many times people say that we are to be like Jesus in this story. But really, it’s Jesus. There is no way we could ever hope to be as loving or as accepting or as anything as Jesus is. I mean, Jesus is God. We’re just humans.

I think we are the woman in this story. I mean, there have been times, I’m sure, when each one of us has felt on the outside – when our own actions or situations beyond our control have alienated us from others. There have been times when we’ve been excluded or left out or ignored. And really, Jesus has every reason to ignore us, too.

But the truth is, and lucky for us, that Jesus doesn’t let that stuff get in the way. Jesus is able to see through all of that. He can look through our sin, through all of the things we’ve done wrong, all the ways we have fallen short, all of our mistakes and shortcomings, everything that weighs us down and makes us feel unworthy. Jesus can look through that and see the Child of God that we are. And it is to this precious Child of God that he offers acceptance and life giving water. It’s what we call the grace of God, this love and acceptance that is undeserved. It is not because we are great people who are considered worthy and deserving of God’s love. It’s exactly the opposite. It’s because Jesus loves us in spite of our unworthiness. It is when we were still sinners that God chose to send Jesus into the world.

And Jesus comes to each one of us, just as he did that woman. And he looks through all of the things that separate us from one another, and he offers this life giving water, the grace of God, to each one of us.

The woman responded by sharing this great news with everyone she knew, even those who had made her an outcast. She thought that this news was so amazing that everyone needed the opportunity to hear about it. So she rushed back to the city and she told them all about this man Jesus who had met her at the well and had changed her life.

We are called to respond that way, too. We are called to share this great news with everyone we know, even those people we might not agree with or get along with or that we might not even like that much. Because this news really is amazing and everyone does deserve to hear about it. We have a God who loves us and accepts us, who has offered us amazing grace despite the fact that we could never deserve it.

So, just like that woman did, let’s leave from this place where we have been offered this life giving water. Let’s go out into the world and share this amazing news with everyone. Let’s encourage and invite them to come and have an encounter with Jesus, an encounter that will change their lives just like it has changed ours. Let’s invite everyone to come and see! Amen.

Mark's Soapbox

2008-11-07T16:28:00.002-06:00

I knew there was a reason I lived in a small town.

Yesterday I had no evening meetings and community theater play practice was cancelled for the evening. This meant that I had a Thursday night free. This happens increasingly less and less these days.

Back in the day when I was a carefree seminary student, there was a group of us that would get together every Thursday to watch Survivor. This morphed and changed over the years, and the location changed, but every year it was one of my favorite parts of the week. Nothing beats watching Survivor with a group of good friends as you try to figure out who is going to vote which way, who is going to get voted off next and who is going to win. Well, I suppose there are some things that beat that, but it's pretty cool, I have to say.

Some of my best friends from seminary, and most of the original group of seminary Survivor watchers that I was a part of, have moved closer to me than they previously were. So we have started getting together to watch Survivor, and I attend when my schedule allows. Because I have been involved in community theater here, and Thursday is one of the nights of the week that we have practice, I have not been able to attend. But, as I already mentioned, last night was a free night. So I took advantage of it.

I left my house at 4:30pm yesterday. According to Mapquest, my friends live approximately 64 miles away from me. So it's a bit of a drive but worth it to spend time with good friends - especially now since gas dipped below 2 bucks a gallon.

I arrived at my friends' house at 6:30pm. Two hours later. Traffic was horrible and I spent a lot of time craaaaaaaaawling along the road, if I was lucky to be moving at all. It made me realize what I like so much about living here in a small town where a traffic jam means four cars arriving at the four way stop at the same time.

Since I'm complaining already (and since this is my blog and I can complain all I want), I thought I'd bring something else up that bugs me. That is cellphones. Well, to be honest, I have mixed feelings about them. I appreciate their convenience and how they make communication quick and easy. However, I do not like how people feel they have to be attached to them 24/7. If they're not talking on them, they're texting someone. If they're not texting someone, they're checking their e-mail through them... And don't get me started about people who wear those bluetooth things on their ears all the time. I think we've become far too dependent on these things. For instance, at a youth event last year, the other adult leaders and I decided that we didn't want any cellphones and so we "borrowed" the phones of all the youth there. You would think I was trying to cut off their arms the way they were reacting. In fact, I'm not sure that a couple of the girls recovered. They "didn't feel well" the rest of the evening, looking very despondent when we were at the bowling alley.

At a coffee shop that I visit often, there is a sign on the counter top that says "we will be glad to serve you after you finish your cellphone conversation." I think that quite often they interfere with us being present in the moment, being aware of and interactive with our own surroundings.

And to combine these two topics, something that really rubs me the wrong way is people talking on cellphone while they're driving. Last night alone, on my way to my friends' house, I was negatively affected several times by people driving and talking on their phones. I think it's distracting to the driver, like I mentioned previously hampering them from being aware of their surroundings. I realize that their might be times when it is necessary or helpful, such as when you need directions to someplace or you are on your way somewhere and will be late or something like that, but I don't see any reason why you should just be chatting with someone while you're driving. Hang up the phone and focus on the road.

Okay, I'm putting away my soapbox now...

confirmation like clockwork

2008-11-05T21:49:00.003-06:00

I love days when plans go off without a hitch. When things just seem to mesh together amazingly and everyone does what they're supposed to do and everything moves like clockwork.

Unfortunately, today was not a day like that.

It started out pretty well. I mean, any day that begins with a good cup of coffee, reading the paper at the coffee shop and watching a little guy from the congregation having breakfast with his grandpa has to be a good day, right?

Well, I thought so, too. But after lunch, things didn't go quite as well. Now, don't get me wrong, they weren't terrible. But when you are the leader of a group of 50 Confirmation students and their adult leaders, and it's your job to get them fed, on a bus, and up to the convention center... and THEN back home withOUT losing even one of them... It can be a bit stressful.

It can get even more stressful when the pizza (that is supposed to show up at church at 3:15, so that the kids can eat it and be on the bus ready to go by 4:30) doesn't arrive until 4:05 because of an oversight by the restaurant.

But all things seemed to work out. We made it on the bus by 4:30. We got good seats at the convention center (at least better than last year when we were in the nose bleeds and the people on the stage looked about the size of those green army men I used to play with). We learned about youth homelessness, and how we have it within our power to end poverty and homelessness in Minnesota. And then we made it back onto the bus with 50 people, the same amount we arrived with, so we got all of our kids on the bus or swapped them out for new ones, and I haven't heard any complaints yet...

So even though it didn't turn out to be a clockwork smooth day, it was a good one nonetheless. I brought along my camera to take pictures of the kids enjoying themselves, but I didn't think to take very many pictures until on the way home on the bus. But then I got in trouble for distracting the bus driver with the flashes, so I had to put it away.

Some quick facts on youth homelessness in Minnesota:
Over 3,200 children and young people are homeless on any given night in Minnesota.
About 2,600 are younger children within homeless families.
About 500-600 are unaccompanied youth under the age of 18.
Half of all children and youth come from greater Minnesota (or as Twin Cities people say "out state."
thanks to Lutheran Social Services in Minnesota for that information.

The message that ran throughout the presentation this evening was that we, as Christians, are called to do something about homelessness. They brought up Matthew 25:34-40, where Jesus says "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me."

We are the Body of Christ and, as such, we are called to reach out and help our brothers and sisters. And, when we do that, we help Jesus himself.

I don't know if the young people were impacted at all, but I felt particularly spoken to this evening. There is no reason so many young people - or people in general - should not have a safe place to live and nutritious food to eat. We need to see the need in the world and do something about it - to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

So let's get started.

What to do, what to do...

2007-12-26T15:00:00.000-06:00

First and foremost on my mind right now is my vacation. It will be the first time since I've moved here that I will be making the trek through the scenic state of Iowa into Nebraska to visit my parents. According to Google Maps, it is a little bit more than an 8 hour drive. Although, since our fiasco in North Minneapolis when we got turned around trying to find St Olaf Lutheran Church, while relying on Google Maps directions, I am a bit leery of trusting them again. They'll have to earn my trust back!

As if that wasn't enough driving, after spending a few days with the parents, and visiting my brother and his family, I'll be driving back up here to BP, but not stopping! I'll be swinging through the Cities, picking up my friend Nichol who will be flying in from Washington state, and then heading up a couple hours north to Grand Rapids for a fun and exciting New Years celebration with some of my best friends from seminary. It is bound to be a great time!

But I don't leave for this vacation until tomorrow morning. I delayed the start of my trip so that I could participate in the Christmas caroling party at my church. We'll be going to The Lutheran Home, which is the nursing home in town, and singing some Christmas carols before going to Anita and Earl's house for some food and fun. So right now, while I wait for it to be 6:00 so we can start our caroling fun, I'm doing laundry to make sure I have clothes to wear during my vacation. Clothes are always a good thing, and clean clothes are an even better thing!

Also, you may notice that this blog was started clear back in March and I have yet to get any real use out of it... I'm still trying to figure out what would be the best way to utilize it. How can I use it to add to my ministry? Is it something I want to advertise, say in the church newsletter or even as a signature on my e-mail? Hmmm... I'll have to ponder this some more.

just in case

2007-09-15T17:49:00.000-05:00

Just in case you couldn't tell, I don't really use this blog. I may have intended to at one time, but at the moment it's not getting much use. But isn't that a stellar banner up at the top? I sure do think so!

first post

2007-03-23T14:43:00.000-05:00

They say you never get a second chance to make a first impression. That puts a lot of pressure on me to come up with a really stellar post for this, my first post on this blog.

I think I'm caving under the pressure...