"Living Into Pastoral Identity" - Huh?

Dear friends, grace to you and peace from God our Creator and our Savior Jesus the Christ -

It's 6:28pm. In about an hour I'm going to take off to see my girlfriend in Eagan. It's quiet in my little 546-square-foot apartment at Luther Seminary, and I'm hankering for an apple right now. I've got Corelli on in the background and I have an application essay on the screen. Letting it sit and settle for a bit before deciding on edits and changes.

I'm applying for a Fellowship. A Fellowship to Auschwitz for the Study of Professional Ethics (FASPE). It's basically a two-week intensive where students from the fields of medicine, law, journalism, and theology gather together at Auschwitz and other prominent Holocaust sites to discuss the pressing contemporary ethical issues affecting the people we serve through our chosen vocations. I think it would be an amazing experience that I would grow from as I continue down the path to ordination and rostered pastoral ministry. When I say this, I am aware that there's no guarantees. I still need to finish my application and doing some waiting, as decisions aren't emailed until February 1st. I'm competing with kids from Harvard and Yale, but I figure you don't stand a chance if you don't even try. I'm gonna go for it and see what happens!

I'm applying for a Fellowship. This feels like the first big thing I've done as, now, reluctantly, a man of the academy. There's a distinct tension there. Throughout my seminary career, I've felt out of place. Coming to the cities, indeed, was a substantial culture shock. Take a kid from small town, rural southeastern Minnesota and transplant him into MSP and see how he does, really. I've always felt drawn back to home, to the farm. I get out of here every chance I can. I want nothing more than to serve in a rural context; be pastor to a small congregation. I'm noticing more and more, however, that my identities are becoming distinct. What I once was, a farm kid living in the country, is now being traded for and replaced by a man going to seminary in the cities who is finally learning what it means to follow God's call. I'm not sure how I feel about this, honestly. I claim my rural roots with all that I am, but somehow, I feel like being here in Lauderdale isn't being honest or authentic. I don't know if that made sense. It is what it is.

It won't necessarily change when I get out in the parish. We talk about "living into our pastoral identity", or whatever that's supposed to mean. When I get into my small rural church, I won't be knitted into the fabric of the community. I will be pastor. I will be "the other", one whose career is placed upon a pedestal and my perceived image along with it. That's the thing. I don't want that. I want to be a pastor, but I want to be real with people. I want to be able to swear and drink beer and hang out in the community as I do when I'm in Cannon Falls, at home. I identify so, so strongly with place and relationships, and it will be different to be in a role where I'm approachable, but where I have to place boundaries on friendships. In the parish, I can be friends, but I can't be your friend. The whole trust-power dynamic that plays into being a pastor, ya know?

"Living into pastoral identity". Does that mean growing to the point where you are always in your pastoral role? What will this mean for my girlfriend, Lauren? Am I as much a pastor at a Friday night football game as I am at the bakery on Wednesday mornings as I am preaching Sunday at worship? Does that allow for any differentiation? Will I be able to go back home and be a brother to my brothers, or am I supposed to be pastor even there, too? How much, honestly (as the endorsement essay prompt indicates), are our lives "above reproach"?

"Living into pastoral identity". I realize that us pastor types, we are set apart namely for administering the sacraments and ensuring proper teaching and preaching of God's Word entrusted to us. I realize that as pastors we are representatives of the Church, and we do indeed point to something beyond ourselves - we preach Christ crucified and are to be advocates of that message to our people. What about when I just want to bullshit with my friends and be Dean, not Pastor Dean or Reverend Safe?

That's the first time I've written those titles next to my name. Gah. Weird. Maybe that's a step into "living into pastoral identity". Recognizing that for myself. Maybe the rest will come later. I want to be pastor, but I also just want to be Dean. I want to be there with my farmer parishioners who are concerned about crops or losing their farms while also being able to be a advocate for something larger than myself. I want to be able to be authentic and real and honest without having a preconceived notion of who I am because of my role, because of my vocation.

Maybe there's no answer to those questions.
Maybe it's something we're supposed to wrestle with, to contend with.
Maybe right now, that's okay.

Peace, my dear friends -
Dean

Being Rural, Being Radical, Being Church - Get Set for the Millennial Clergy Wave

Friends in Christ - Grace and peace to you this day from God our Creator and our Lord Jesus Christ:

Reading Emmy Kegler and Eric Worringer's blog post last week, and after reading the Rev. Charles Austin's article in The Lutheran (which the aforementioned co-authored blog post was written in response to); I decided to pair up with my co-CPE Chaplain and fellow Luther Seminary Middler, Jon Rundquist to write a response to both posts as well - to add more voices.

Ultimately, more voices are what we need. Ultimately, we think Millennials have proved their worth at making their voices heard. Through movements like Occupy Wall Street and many other vocal protestations of the issues affecting our generation and our contexts, we have been able to effectively raise our concerns. This is our take on what it means to be and do church going forward into a “shifting” American religious climate.

Both Dean and Jonathan’s upbringings consist of a primarily Small Town/Rural story. We are concerned with BEING the church and DOING church in a way that may be perceived as “radical”, but more important, what is life-giving to (particularly) rural people in a shifting world. Where oftentimes rural folk are neglected, or considered “fly-over country”; where churches are closing left and right; where rural people are aging - how can we as millennial pastors become passionately invested in being the church for these people whose lives are changing just as often without much say in the matter, and who are afraid of being forgotten? How can we be the radical, life-giving Church to a people whose histories are valued, whose traditions are near-sacred?

Radical and life-giving… Like The House for All Sinners and Saints in Denver, Colorado.

Thus, we’d like to address the ‘Nadia Problem’ that Emmy and Eric make reference to. It has been a concern of ours as well. They write, “We have witnessed the rise and popularity, and celebrated the work of Nadia Bolz-Weber, but we also have an issue with it.  Not because of anything she has said or done, or because she is tattooed, crass-mouthed, or too progressive or too orthodox, but because she does not represent the actual ELCA.  She has been raised up and celebrated as a voice, particularly before our youth and young adults, as "a new way of doing church," putting the "evangelical" in "Evangelical", and so on.  Then we send kids home from Youth Gatherings and college weekends and seminary visits to places where church continues in much the same way it always has.”

Yes. Precisely. We wholeheartedly agree.

They continue, “Our concern, which again is brought up by this article, is that because Nadia has become an example, it allows the institution to use her image and ministry while still largely continuing on its own path, rife with institutional anxiety and attitudes of scarcity, and bemoaning the loss of a generation of institutional pastors.  We continue to produce leaders equipped to explain what it means to be Lutheran (using our institutional memory), when what the world hungers for is a real and meaningful experience of a God worthy of worship and service. What we pray and yearn for is not an institution with one Nadia as an example, but a transformational generation of leaders of all ages that are able to cope and proclaim the Gospel as well as she has.”

We’ve had some thoughts as of late, on our down time from CPE at Unity Hospital, that may ALSO seem “radical” at first. But as we state above, radical is how we need to look at how we DO Church. As the church is “shifting” in its identity (in our post-Christendom world where the church can no longer assume that people will come through the doors), we as millennial pastors-to-be are called to find ways to bring the church to the people without the pretense of “doing church”. Rather, as pastors, we are called to bring ourselves; our broken, ordinary, foul-mouthed selves and some bread and some wine and gather around a common space and say, “Hey. I have this message. I have this bread and wine. There’s community here, and I’m a sinner amongst you. Let’s talk.” It’s in doing this; in getting outside of the church walls, in losing the expectation that people must come to the church, where these radical acts of ministry will suddenly not be so “radical”. Radical, different, and earnest as we see these things now will be the new normal. We envision a world where pastors are out on the streets and sidewalks in the small towns and big cities with the homeless and poor and marginalized and everyone would recognize it as being the Church.

“Radical” congregations do indeed exist. They’re the ones with the hip names like, ‘Jacob’s Porch’, ‘Mercy Seat’, ‘Solomon’s Porch’, among others. Our point is this: Radical doesn’t need to have a hip name. Radical doesn’t need to be in a major metropolitan area to BE Church. A rural congregation of 15 people wondering where their hope has gone is no less doing amazing acts of ministry in living out God’s call. Radical can indeed be found in, as Emmy and Eric feel, “church[es] marked by “Scandinavian” jokes, cultural enclaves, Lake Wobegon stoicism, and endless conflict over any number of issues.”

Dean’s home congregation, Spring Garden Lutheran in rural Cannon Falls, Minnesota is the traditional white-clapboard country Lutheran church as described above, however now the church is finding itself having to respond to the clarion call for widespread social equality. With the 2009 Churchwide Statement on Human Sexuality, the pastors voiced their support. However, no conversations with the congregation have been held. How do we spread those words of equality, peace, and hope from the pulpit in ways that aren't considered so radical? Because they shouldn't be. Why do we need to consider being an advocate of marriage, gender and racial equality in the name of Christ an earth-changing position to hold?  

Jonathan’s congregation in which he grew up in, First Lutheran in Morris, Minnesota; is one of two ELCA congregations in Morris. Morris is a small community that has undergone many changes in the last 20 years, but has been recently undergone a new change: Latino immigration. Northern and Central European Lutheran, Catholic, and Anabaptist immigrants emigrated to the area in the late 19th to early 20th centuries, and because of the railroad and fertile farmground; populated many small communities in the surrounding counties. Now, Morris and other communities around rural Minnesota are experiencing a newer changing demographic by way of immigrants from other parts of the world. How can Morris and these other communities be a welcoming face to these ‘New Minnesotans’? How can we be the hands and feet of Christ, to our new neighbors? These, and other important questions are what face modern Small Town/Rural communities.

It’s no myth and it’s readily apparent that these Small Town/Rural settings ARE changing. Small Town/Rural dynamics are steadily shifting - ways of life for many rural folk are becoming unsettled. Specifically in agriculturally-based contexts, small family farms are quickly becoming a bygone era, with land being purchased and cultivated by large, corporate agriculture. Modern advances in production and agricultural technology means the need for less hands and workers in the field. Gone, by and large, are the days of the small, family farm where commitment and teamwork were imperative for a family’s survival.

This is what we will be walking into as future pastors.

In this haphazard, shifting era, the important question that needs to be asked is how do we do ministry with a renewed sense of what it means to be the rural church, and the Church at large? What, in this time and space, can the Church be to give her people hope? It begins with this, we think: this “radical” concept we talk about above should merely be the standard by which we as human beings sharing the Gospel and living lives of grace should hold ourselves to. In essence, there shouldn’t have to be this “radical voice” in the first place. Those “radical voices” should be the Church - plain and simple - in broken spaces and places and with the broken people, of whom we are a part. This ‘Nadia Problem’ shouldn't be such a big deal. The way Nadia has been doing ministry should just be the Church, period.

We feel, as (future) Lutheran pastors, that all clergy (future and current, lay and ordained) need to create those spaces for the marginalized and oppressed. This should be a Church-wide undertaking. It is, after all, our calling, hope and promise that takes root in the Gospel proclamation. We hope that this ideal is what all of us, as Christians with a public leadership role, are aspiring to do. This needs to be the Church, not just some poster image that we claim as our banner but in reality are just using to mask issues of injustices in denominational polity.

How we as young (future) pastors begin to do Church may be different than it has been in many years, but as Emmy and Eric assert, “Young leaders are of great value to our church, particularly because of the rapid rate of cultural change that has occurred since the birth of the ELCA. The innovative ideas that young leaders (both ordained and lay) can bring to our worship, programs, structure, and congregational life should be celebrated as greatly as the gifts of the "older generation" whose retirement is impending.” It’s time for us up-and-coming millennial pastors and Church leaders to get our hands dirty. To revitalize. To go out among our people and ask, “What gives you joy? What can we as the Church do for you?” To proclaim the Gospel of Christ, clearly and with emboldened clarity, and to pass bread and wine for the sake of the world which we are called to serve and be a part of.

We are called, sent, redeemed and emboldened Luther Middlers, adding our voices; opening our hearts; nailing our theses to the door. Now it’s your turn.

Here we stand - we can do no other:

Dean Safe and Jonathan Rundquist

Luther Seminary Master of Divinity Middlers

“All alone, or in two's,

The ones who really love you

Walk up and down outside the wall.

Some hand in hand

And some gathered together in bands.

The bleeding hearts and artists

Make their stand.

And when they've given you their all

Some stagger and fall, after all it's not easy

Banging your heart against some mad bugger's wall.”

"Outside the Wall" - Pink Floyd

Bakery as Church

Hello friends -

Grace and peace to you this day from God our Creator and God's Son Jesus Christ.

I wonder. I've been wondering for the past few days, actually. Well, make that weeks, months. I don't know. I've been thinking on this lately. Reflect with me:

What would a church without a building look like? 

Scary question, right? What would it look like for the church to disband the congregation from it's normal sense of building and place and be the hands and feet of Christ in wholly other spaces, places, and times? Oftentimes we're so tied to building, to budget, to program, that, from my experiences, the very act of doing church and living our lives together can seem and feel stifled. It's worth asking ourselves, "Where is the Spirit moving in this?"

I've been thinking, as a baker - wouldn't it be neat to run a bakery and use it as a "church"? To have a place for people to gather on Sunday mornings, start baking bread at 6am with interested parishioners, and then do corporate, traditional Lutheran liturgical worship around a table, around the ovens, around yeast and flour and salt and wine and earthy loaves? What would it look like to break bread around that table, to literally tear the loaves apart and go around to each person and say "This is the body of Christ, given and broken for your sake?" To pass around the wine and say much the same thing - "This is my blood shed for you for the forgiveness of all sins?" What would it look like to do worship as a pastor dressed not in an alb but a floured, stained, messy shirt with an apron and a stole? What would it look like to have passerby's come along in the street and welcome them through the doors of your "church" and pull them in right front and center and preach and proclaim Jesus Christ, Bread of Life?

What would it take to do this? What spaces could be created by this that aren't available in traditional church? Is this stupid? Is this crazy? Is this just some pipe dream of a millennial pastor-to-be that's yearning for something different? Think of the different avenues this could take. Hunger ministry throughout the week, done right in house. People would be saying, "Come on down to the bakery on Thursday's - Pastor's doing Bible Study!" Something totally different. Something life giving. Something that embodies God's mission in a wholly radical way, that we as God's people can proclaim.

Anyway. Just my normal musings.
God's peace, my friends!
Dean

What Breaks Your Heart?

Hello friends,

Awhile back, while I was still at home in Cannon Falls, one of my pastors preached a sermon from the pulpit where he asked the parishioners, "What breaks your heart?" He gave various examples throughout the gospel text, at the trial and crucifixion of Christ, where the disciples hearts broke. Where Jesus' heart broke.

I'm taking my Clinical Pastoral Education experience this semester, where I'm a chaplain at Unity Hospital. For three weeks we've wrestled with getting into a room, been coached through the "art of simply being", and we've wondered and sought answers to what our pastoral authority and identity might look like. It's been trying, exhausting, consuming, exhilarating, and joyful all at the same time.

Part of our work at the hospital is making sure that spiritual care consults are attended to. This is where patients, family, and/or staff can put in specific requests on a patient's chart for a chaplain to visit. Generally, most days I don't have many since I'm on the surgery-orthopedics recovery floor, and most days patients just want to rest.

I had two today, though, and I had the realization. This work, these people, are what breaks my heart.

I walked into one room, unsure of what to expect. I tell the woman lying in the bed that I'm a chaplain, that spiritual care was requested. She looks at me, "No, I didn't ask for anyone. Maybe I did. I don't know." The woman was detoxing from severe alcohol abuse. We talked of fear, of uncertainty, of what to do next. My heart broke. No support system here; the only family lives in Texas. This woman hasn't gone to church in years because the people are hypocritical there and the singing is like praying but the faith she has in God is beautiful, amazing, and could easily be more authentic, vibrant, and vulnerable than any seasoned churchgoer. She requests a prayer and I pray, words of healing and hope and finding your way in the midst of uncertainty, in the midst of all the shit that life brings. Tears fall from her eyes, and I promise a return visit. Soon. I leave the room, and my own eyes well. My heart breaks.

Another visit, a man this time. Younger. Married, and has a job that makes almost six figures a year. He's in for chronic pancreatic pain, and just wishes they would take it out this time. The pain is unbearable, and the man is almost in tears. Finances, family, work, and emotions are in ruin, and he knows no way out. What do I do, he asks? I sit there. I don't know. I don't know what to say, I don't know what I could say that would be helpful in any way because I haven't had it as nearly as bad as this man has. So, I lean over, I say "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." I let those words sink in for a moment. I offer a prayer, and he says yes.

I pray, again. For God's peace, God's overwhelming providence in the midst of life's crap, for hope when everything seems to be in despair. For God's light to be with him, for Christ to walk alongside him. I pray for everything this man so desperately wants. A sense of normalcy. He thanks me; I leave. My heart breaks.

I left the hospital tonight unsure of what I was thinking. I left the hospital this night praying for all the people I had visited. I hoped I had done enough. I pray that God blesses them and keeps them, that God makes God's face shine upon them. That God is gracious unto them, and gives them peace, now and for the rest of their days.

I ask you, my friends this night. What breaks your heart? Spend some time contemplating. Spend some time thinking on that. Give thanks for this wondrous life we all live.

Dean

after supper jesus took bread

blessed it,

broke it, 

and gave it to his disciples
saying,
take and eat - all of you
this is my body,
given for you
and for all people,
for the forgiveness of all sin.
do this
for the remembrance of me.

- words of institution

I often wonder what it would be like to be at the table with Christ and his followers in this moment. We've heard the words of institution in corporate worship a million times, and in every way they are still extraordinarily meaningful, but I wonder what it would be like to hear those words alongside the disciples, gathered in the upper rooms and living in the mystery of it all:

In community, Jesus takes a loaf of bread, and breaks it amongst his followers and friends. Passing it, Christ instructs that this bread represents his literal body as a new covenant that is given to us and all of humanity for the forgiveness of all sins & brokenness & wrongs & adversity that we can possibly commit. At that table, taking bread and wine, Christ breaks us from the bonds of human sin and welcomes us into freedom - a freedom to proclaim Christ's gospel and message of grace & peace & reconciliation for the whole world. Literally, everyone. We are instructed to live out this practice, this eucharist in community often, as we remember Christ's promises and death upon the cross - we remember this both for ourselves and for those who are invited anew each time to taste and see what God has revealed in the bread and wine, earth & grain & sustenance & hope.

I find myself baking bread and remembering these words often - as I knead I know that the loaves I am making mean more than mere food - they become means of expressing love and care towards my family and all who I give away loaves to, in remembrance of what Christ has done for all of us. A ciabatta in all of its crackly-singing-crust-glory or a lovely soft sandwich loaf can all say, "come and see that God is good." They are reminders, to me, of what Christ does and is for us. In Christ, and in bread, there is life.

In your baking, in your communion, in your brokenness & in your joy - may you find God.
May it be so.
Amen.

Dean

"In the Smallness there comes the Kingdom of God": a sermon for Spring Garden Lutheran Church, July 27th

Hello all,

Recently I led worship at Spring Garden Lutheran Church, my home congregation - I thought I'd post my sermon, for what it's worth. Without introduction, here it is!

"I remember it well, my first day of college. I was checking in at music camp for First Week, after a dashed and nervous goodbye to my parents and brothers. Looking back, I don’t think I was too grateful for all their help that day. I ate lunch with strangers, fellow students I didn’t know, and then went to the music building. The hallways were crammed with students, eager to begin another year of music making either in the Waldorf Choir or Wind Symphony. Here I was, a first year in a sea of sophomores, juniors, and seniors who knew their way around and already had friends and were piano performance majors and joked with the professors like it wasn’t a big deal. And here I sat. I felt small. Insignificant. Unworthy. What am I doing at Waldorf College? Why am I supposed to be here? What will these next four years bring? These questions raced through my mind. Luckily, God doesn’t mind when people feel small or insignificant. As today’s readings show, God uses small and insignificant people to bring about his kingdom.

In today’s Gospel texts from the book of Matthew, Christ utilizes a number of parables to illustrate what the kingdom of God looks like. A mustard seed, yeast, and fish are all used. The kingdom of God is like the smallest mustard seed, that grows into a tree that birds live in – from something tiny into something life giving. I especially liked the yeast metaphor; that the kingdom of God is like bread yeast that works through sixty pounds of dough, a small bacteria moving throughout the whole mass to create something that sustains life. Whatever illustrations are used, the kingdom of God always starts with small, insignificant things and transforms into something life breathing, amazing and powerful. The same can be applied to us as God’s called and claimed children - throughout the Scriptures, it is clear that God does not prefer people of power or prestige, rather, God uses the humble, meek, and powerless to illustrate what his coming reign will look like.

In today’s first lesson, our Old Testament text, we encounter a young boy Solomon, who is sitting and contemplating the meaning of his life. The boy is at a crossroads – having married one of Pharaoh’s daughters and continually offering sacrifices to God according to Old Testament law, he is about to inherit leadership from his father, King David – who has been called by God a good, faithful man. Solomon knows he has big shoes to fill.

Solomon is doing everything correctly, so it seems. He’s married and is faithful to his God. Yet, in today’s text, the boy seems unsure of himself. He feels small and insignificant. He is wary of his father David’s unwavering faithfulness, and still brings himself down, saying that “I am only a little child; I do not know how to go out or come in. And your servant is in the midst of the people whom you have chosen, a great people, so numerous they cannot be numbered or counted.”

The task ahead of Solomon is immense, and I think he recognizes this. God has chosen him to lead his people Israel, but it’s clear here that Solomon is unsure why. In a moment of confusion, desperation, and clarity all in one, the boy prays – simple and unadorned, “Give your servant therefore an understanding mind to govern your people, able to discern between good and evil; for who can govern this your great people?” Solomon acknowledges that he doesn’t understand it all (and who does?) – so he asks simply for discernment between good and evil

God is pleased with this – it would be easy in Solomon’s situation to ask for wealth or power or wives or dominion or any other form of construction of power. Because Solomon simply asked for understanding between right and wrong and a heart for understanding this great task he has been called to, God promises to him “Indeed I give you a wise and discerning mind; no one like you has been before you and no one like you shall arise after you.” With this word of assurance God moves Solomon from unsure, coming-of-age-king to a man who will not be triumphed over – indeed after his rule over Israel there will never been a king as great as him. In God’s eyes goodness triumphs rogue display of power, obedience to God overcomes human desire, and a servant heart beats out self-serving ambitions. In God’s eyes, small, insignificant Solomon will become the greatest ruler, who will be renown throughout the world and throughout the history of Israel. Solomon, feeling insecure, has suddenly been given all that he desired – the ability to judge clearly, and to lead with compassion. Solomon’s reverence for Israel’s people shines through in his questions to God, and God makes sure that he will rule with a good heart and mind. Solomon’s mindset of compassion towards his people and his servant heart is exactly what God envisions for his kingdom

You may be wondering, where does this leave us? What does this mean for Spring Garden Lutheran Church and her parishioners? Hopefully, this leaves you with a message and promise of hope and certainty that no matter what your stature in life, God works through you. No matter what your job, no matter how many degrees you have or letters attached to your name, no matter what your family situation, no matter if you’re married or divorced or single, or whether you’re doubting or secure in your faith – whatever your circumstances, God will use you in ways unimagined to bring about the reign of his kingdom. We often talk about the kingdom of God as if it’s some far-off, distant realm, but actually it’s closer than we often think. When the kingdom of God happens, peace abounds. When the kingdom of God happens, relationships are reconciled. When the kingdom of God happens, joy is found where it is least expected. When the kingdom of God happens, the poor are fed, the naked are clothed, the outcast are welcomed with open arms – God’s kingdom embodies the reconciling, the making right, of all wrongs and injustices towards our neighbors. The kingdom is brought about by cups of coffee shared, bread broken together, and having a genuine interest in our neighbor’s well-being. And guess what – as God’s called and claimed children – all of us – get to participate in this fearful, amazing undertaking. We as followers of Christ get to be like Solomon – called to serve and act with compassion towards all people. It may seem intimidating or impossible, and it’s easy to feel like what we do doesn’t matter – it’s easy to think that one person can’t make a difference. I promise you, though – God absolutely meets us where we are in those moments and uses us for advancing the kingdom. God meets us in the messiness of our everyday lives – in our simple, ordinary days, and calls us for his purposes. It may not seem so now, but the seeds we all plant in other’s lives will grow and become a plentiful harvest. The kingdom of God is realized through all of us, no matter how much it doesn’t seem like it at times.

Like Solomon, may you be earnest in serving others. Like Solomon, don’t be afraid to be humble. Like Solomon, go and be in God’s grace and trust that all will be done in God’s own time. In God through Christ, we are free to be ourselves – our messy, ordinary selves. Be certain that in the smallness there indeed comes the kingdom of God. May it be so. Amen."

When I was writing the sermon, I was hoping it would impact the parishioners in some small way. Lately, however, I've been realizing how true my own words have become. Today, I said goodbye to St. Andrew's Lutheran Church in Grand Rapids, where I have been serving for the past year. It's extraordinarily difficult. I feel small, right now - grieving a loss, really, of something that was life-giving. The pastors at St. Andrew's when I was there, were nothing short of amazing. I was blessed, truly, in this year to work with such fine servants of Christ's church. It was at St. Andrew's where I discerned my call to Word and Sacrament ministry, where I was able to do community ministry with Grace House and the bread group, and where I witnessed and participated in some powerful, holy moments - home visits, sitting with a dying woman, helping lead in a funeral, and talking for hours with a homeless young man. I know, I know that there are these moments to be found in any context, but St. Andrew's was special. I was only there three days/month (just how the agreement worked since the church is five hours north of Luther Seminary), but those days were revitalizing and encouraging. I was blessed to have the opportunity to preach, preside, help with VBS, and just chitchat with many members of the congregation who are fine, fine people. 

I'm hoping to find another rural church context in order to complete my Teaching Congregations requirement, hopefully closer to the seminary since I'm taking four classes and CPE next fall. I know there are experiences to be had elsewhere, but I will deeply miss the St. Andrew's community and all that the congregation does, stands for, and believes in. I know that the Spirit moves swiftly and that the kingdom of God will be recognized in all of this, but for now I'm feeling a bit down. To let go of something you cherish is, by any means, hard. 

From a saying I learned during my time at Holden Village, "for all that has been, thank you. To all that will be, yes." Here's to new experiences and the Spirit's leading this next school year - I'm excited to see what God has in store. 

God's peace, my readers! 

Dean 

"Gathered Community" - a sermon for St. Andrew's Lutheran Church, Pentecost Sunday

Hey all -

It's been a while! Just thought I'd update real quick with my sermon from Pentecost Sunday at St. Andrew's Lutheran in Grand Rapids! I preached on gathering community, and how the promises of the Spirit through Christ continue to inform and impact our relationships with others and with God - things, too, that I have been dwelling on as of late.

Before I begin, let me ask you a question. Ponder this for a while now. What does the word “community” mean to you? What have been your experiences? What have been different communities that you have been a part of? Think of your church, your homes, your families, your support systems. Part of my personal narrative includes a yearlong stay at Holden Village, an intentional Lutheran community in the North Cascades Mountains of Washington State. In whatever form they take, community is important to us all as a means of life-giving support, embrace, and fellowship as followers of Christ and as children of God.

            Today is Pentecost, a day held in the Church for years as commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit upon Christ’s apostles and followers. Throughout his ministry, Jesus taught in community with people – his followers, the lame, downtrodden, and those on the margins. Now, in Christ’s absence, it is fitting that the people witnessing the story unfold are gathered as community – they are gathered together in houses, in upper rooms, behind locked doors – all together. Having served and listened to and been with Christ until the very end, they are waiting for the fulfillment of what Christ promises just a few days earlier at the Last Supper – in the Gospel of John, when Jesus promises the Spirit among them – “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counselor to be with you forever – the Spirit of truth.” Jesus has promised his followers that they will not be left alone after his death, even while they don’t understand it all, and now they are waiting. Gathered together, in expectation, wonder, and fear of what is to come.

            In the Gospel text for today, the disciples are gathered in together with the doors locked for fear of the Jews. Jesus died three days prior, and they are probably expecting rebuke and censure for their actions that day Christ died. By all accounts, the disciples are not sure what to expect. Jesus comes through the door, however, and ends all doubt with “Peace be with you!” Jesus shows the gathered his hands and his sides and his feet and then the disciples recognize him – sort of an “ah-ha!” moment – as if to say, “this is the One we have been waiting for”. Jesus then charges them with the Holy Spirit, giving them exactly what they need to hear in that moment – “If you forgive anyone his sins, they are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.” The Spirit will advocate for the disciples in this task, and in their future ministries carrying out Christ’s message. Just as the Spirit guided the disciples and Christ’s followers, even today the Spirit is still moving in and among us.

            This provides an interesting parallel to today’s modern Christianity. We have had the Spirit guiding and advocating for us for the past two thousand some years, and we have not seen Christ, and still we believe in the promises that accompany his teachings. This begs questions, namely, in what ways do we experience Christ in the here and now; in the same way how do we experience the Spirit personally moving in and among us? It’s helpful to consider how, as a gathered community we experience the Spirit at work and how we see forgiveness and reconciliation and the fellowship of all people happening as we live out our calling as Christians, as called and claimed children of God. The Spirit brings unity in Christian assembly and calls us each into participation in God’s kingdom. With the Spirit, we are called to act with God’s agency to promote what the Spirit promises to generate: love, joy, peace, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control that will bring about in the here and the now the kingdom of God. The Spirit’s unleashing upon the disciples (both in the John and Acts texts) was the beginning of the hand-off of ministry from Jesus to his followers. In the Spirit through Christ we are freed to proclaim the Gospel of reconciliation and hope to all people – to those who doubt, to those who struggle with understanding, and with those who are marginalized. Full of the Spirit’s life we can forgive and reconcile with one another, and daily die and rise in our Christian life.   

            Just as the Spirit came to the disciples through Jesus’s breath (ruach in Hebrew) and in Acts like a mighty rushing wind, so too we can be witnesses to the Spirit moving and breathing and working among us. I notice the Spirit at work in St. Andrew’s in so many ways through my time here – the community worshipping through the Lenten season, through festival worships, through Myrna Peterson’s smile, through lay work with Grace House, through cups of coffee shared, and through a tangible deep, deep commitment to this church and her people. The Spirit is used metaphorically throughout scripture, defined as fire, wind, and clothing – all things that usher in and refine and protect – and so it is used here at St. Andrew’s – the Spirit ushering in the kingdom of God, refining us to be better stewards and caretakers of ourselves and each other, and protecting the faith near and dear to our souls.    

            My prayer for you this day is that you will begin to notice the Spirit moving as swiftly as fire, both in the church and in ourselves as children of God. We can begin by recognizing each other’s talents and gifts as Spirit-ordained, used to build up our church. We can begin by continuing to gather in communities we love and share together – this congregation and each other. We can begin by being like Christ towards each other – recognizing our humanity while striving towards forgiveness of wrongdoings.

My prayer for you this day is that you realize that the Spirit’s work here is not finished. The kingdom of God is here but not yet, at hand but not in hand – and the Spirit still has her work to do among us. With God’s help, we can keep our eyes afresh of what the Spirit is doing. Much like the disciples who gathered behind locked doors, we have an enormous, beautiful task ahead of us. May this holy work, the ushering of the Spirit, burn deep in your bones. Thanks be to God. 

Other opportunities for worship leadership have presented themselves this summer as well - this Sunday I'm headed to St. Andrew's to preside over worship, and then on July 27th I'll be presiding and preaching at Spring Garden Lutheran (my home congregation) while the pastors are away on a servant trip. I'm thankful for these cloud of witnesses and mentors who continually affirm and encourage my call to Christian public leadership by giving me these opportunities and saying, "Go for it!" - it makes a huge difference. When I'm up front leading worship, it feels right. It feels good. Unmistakably, the Spirit is moving among us. Without these gathered communities and congregations for support, reflection, and encouragement, I wouldn't be where I am today - I'm finding myself more and more in a state of gratitude for how the Spirit brings together all things for good. 

May God's deepest peace be with you this night & always - 

Dean