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
Monday, September 22, 2014
Monday, September 8, 2014
after supper jesus took bread
broke it,
and gave it to his disciplessaying,
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
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
"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."
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
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
"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.
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
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
Tuesday, March 25, 2014
Life These Days
Hey all -
It's been a long time! Woah! What have I been up to since I last posted in January?! Life has been crazy - diving into my second semester at Luther Seminary, baking like mad, and continuing to work with St. Andrew's Lutheran Church in Grand Rapids, MN. I've also decided to enter the candidacy process for ordained ministry.
What does this mean? I thought I was going to be a baker, or work for social justice, poverty awareness non-profit. I thought I was going to do anything other than be a pastor. I thought my calling to serve rural communities wasn't going to mean pastoring a parish. All I can say is that the Spirit moves in crazy ways, and has brought to light that I need to stop fighting the idea of being a pastor. Being a pastor has been something I've been thinking about ever since 8th grade, in confirmation. I remember clearly sitting with my confirmation peers around the table in the basement of our church and we were talking about our hopes and dreams and futures like we had an inkling of it what look like, and I said that I planned to go to seminary and be ordained. Fast forward through high school, and my ideas had changed. I thought maybe I'd be a high school teacher, a professor, a professional student, a writer - a career in the church wasn't in my vision.
Funny how that works. I entered college, and was given the opportunity to be involved in several campus ministry groups (chapel, Exit to Hope, small groups), and I visited Luther Seminary twice. Immediately, it felt right. In hindsight, the Spirit was moving there, too. I ended up enrolling at the Seminary in the fall of 2013, after serving for a year at Holden Village as a Lead Cook. I had many good, deep, intentional conversations over those years where people suggested I should enter pastoral ministry. "No," I'd think, "I don't think I'm called to be in a parish...". I looked at various food and faith non-profits, being a professor - anything. Nothing seemed to fit. I'd had the external call for years, but wasn't listening to my internal call.
It all started this spring semester. I was having lunch with a good friend of mine from Holden Village, Colleen Foote, in a little diner off the highway in central Minnesota. We had a lot to catch up on, and got on the topic of jobs. She had accepted a job out West, and was wondering what I was planning. I said, "I don't know...I just want to serve people and make them realize Christ broken for them in the midst of their suffering...I want to deal with people's brokenness and attempt to give words of grace." I realized, "maybe there's something there?"
I had another 2.5 hour-long lunch conversation with my home pastor, who asked if I was still on the M.A. track. I wrote the Southeast Minnesota ELCA Synod Office two days later and asked for an initial application. After I submitted my application a few days later, I went up to Grand Rapids to work with St. Andrew's for the week. It was beginning to get dark, and I had another 3 hours ahead of me on 1-35. I began to say aloud, "Dean. Pastor. Pastor. Pastor." Just repeating it. And it felt right - a giant wave of inner peace settled and it felt right. I can't explain it adequately, really, but it feels good. I have my entrance interview on May 9th, and am completing all the steps towards that interview.
I'm still planning on incorporating baking heavily into my ministry as a future pastor. I hope to emphasize the Eucharist, I hope to make tangible the body and blood of Christ broken for them in the midst of their lives - in their joys and their sorrows - and to help every person realize that they are a beloved child of God and that Christ meets them where they are. I hope to serve a church in a rural community, whether it be in the midst of cornfields or in the woods of northern Minnesota - I hope to serve in a place that is small and where mainstream/modern American sociocultural values aren't the norm. I hope to work with and for the rural faithful and to welcome them all to the table. Whether they know Christ or are just entering the church for the first time, whether they are single or married or gay or straight I want people to know that God's salvific grace is good for all, that they are claimed as children of God, that Christ's wounds are sufficient and that the Spirit intercedes for them. I'm a long ways away from serving in an ordained capacity, but at least this a beginning. A post of hopes, dreams, and wonderings.
As you go into this night, may you ponder what God is up to in your life. I promise you, God's up to amazing things.
May it be so. Amen.
Dean
It's been a long time! Woah! What have I been up to since I last posted in January?! Life has been crazy - diving into my second semester at Luther Seminary, baking like mad, and continuing to work with St. Andrew's Lutheran Church in Grand Rapids, MN. I've also decided to enter the candidacy process for ordained ministry.
What does this mean? I thought I was going to be a baker, or work for social justice, poverty awareness non-profit. I thought I was going to do anything other than be a pastor. I thought my calling to serve rural communities wasn't going to mean pastoring a parish. All I can say is that the Spirit moves in crazy ways, and has brought to light that I need to stop fighting the idea of being a pastor. Being a pastor has been something I've been thinking about ever since 8th grade, in confirmation. I remember clearly sitting with my confirmation peers around the table in the basement of our church and we were talking about our hopes and dreams and futures like we had an inkling of it what look like, and I said that I planned to go to seminary and be ordained. Fast forward through high school, and my ideas had changed. I thought maybe I'd be a high school teacher, a professor, a professional student, a writer - a career in the church wasn't in my vision.
Funny how that works. I entered college, and was given the opportunity to be involved in several campus ministry groups (chapel, Exit to Hope, small groups), and I visited Luther Seminary twice. Immediately, it felt right. In hindsight, the Spirit was moving there, too. I ended up enrolling at the Seminary in the fall of 2013, after serving for a year at Holden Village as a Lead Cook. I had many good, deep, intentional conversations over those years where people suggested I should enter pastoral ministry. "No," I'd think, "I don't think I'm called to be in a parish...". I looked at various food and faith non-profits, being a professor - anything. Nothing seemed to fit. I'd had the external call for years, but wasn't listening to my internal call.
It all started this spring semester. I was having lunch with a good friend of mine from Holden Village, Colleen Foote, in a little diner off the highway in central Minnesota. We had a lot to catch up on, and got on the topic of jobs. She had accepted a job out West, and was wondering what I was planning. I said, "I don't know...I just want to serve people and make them realize Christ broken for them in the midst of their suffering...I want to deal with people's brokenness and attempt to give words of grace." I realized, "maybe there's something there?"
I had another 2.5 hour-long lunch conversation with my home pastor, who asked if I was still on the M.A. track. I wrote the Southeast Minnesota ELCA Synod Office two days later and asked for an initial application. After I submitted my application a few days later, I went up to Grand Rapids to work with St. Andrew's for the week. It was beginning to get dark, and I had another 3 hours ahead of me on 1-35. I began to say aloud, "Dean. Pastor. Pastor. Pastor." Just repeating it. And it felt right - a giant wave of inner peace settled and it felt right. I can't explain it adequately, really, but it feels good. I have my entrance interview on May 9th, and am completing all the steps towards that interview.
I'm still planning on incorporating baking heavily into my ministry as a future pastor. I hope to emphasize the Eucharist, I hope to make tangible the body and blood of Christ broken for them in the midst of their lives - in their joys and their sorrows - and to help every person realize that they are a beloved child of God and that Christ meets them where they are. I hope to serve a church in a rural community, whether it be in the midst of cornfields or in the woods of northern Minnesota - I hope to serve in a place that is small and where mainstream/modern American sociocultural values aren't the norm. I hope to work with and for the rural faithful and to welcome them all to the table. Whether they know Christ or are just entering the church for the first time, whether they are single or married or gay or straight I want people to know that God's salvific grace is good for all, that they are claimed as children of God, that Christ's wounds are sufficient and that the Spirit intercedes for them. I'm a long ways away from serving in an ordained capacity, but at least this a beginning. A post of hopes, dreams, and wonderings.
As you go into this night, may you ponder what God is up to in your life. I promise you, God's up to amazing things.
May it be so. Amen.
Dean
Friday, January 10, 2014
Chocolate Chip Cookie Bars
Hey all -
Woah. Two blog posts in one day! Haha! We were talking with a farming couple on Tuesday in Moorhead, MN, and the farmer's wife had set out this whole platter of cookies for us to have with our coffee. As anyone knows, I can't make cookies to save my life. Seriously - whenever I try and bake cookies, they always end up flat, crisp, burnt, stuck to the pan, or what have you - and I end up frustrated and mad that I can make coq au vin but not chocolate chip cookies. What's the deal.
I was looking for a good chocolate chip cookie recipe, and I found this one. And it is, without a doubt, amazing. Instead of making cookies, I decided to show the cookies what was up by throwing the dough into a 9x13 pan. Foolproof. Without further adieu...the best chocolate chip cookie bars you'll ever eat:
Ingredients
1 cup butter, melted
1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 cups flour
2 cups chocolate chips (use whatever you like; for me, it's always a toss-up)
Directions
1) In a large bowl, melt butter. Add sugar and brown sugar, mix well. When slightly cooled, add eggs, one at a time, blending well after each addition. Add baking soda, salt, and vanilla, combine well.
2) Stir in 3 cups of flour, then stir in chocolate chips. Drop dough into a greased 9x13 pan and bake in a 350 degree preheated oven for 20-25 minutes.
Now, a word of caution. Obviously, these aren't healthy, haha! I make them only when I'm home so I have other people who eat them. The way they're baked for only 20-25 minutes leaves the bars rather gooey; so bake longer if you see fit. In any case - enjoy!
Dean
Woah. Two blog posts in one day! Haha! We were talking with a farming couple on Tuesday in Moorhead, MN, and the farmer's wife had set out this whole platter of cookies for us to have with our coffee. As anyone knows, I can't make cookies to save my life. Seriously - whenever I try and bake cookies, they always end up flat, crisp, burnt, stuck to the pan, or what have you - and I end up frustrated and mad that I can make coq au vin but not chocolate chip cookies. What's the deal.
I was looking for a good chocolate chip cookie recipe, and I found this one. And it is, without a doubt, amazing. Instead of making cookies, I decided to show the cookies what was up by throwing the dough into a 9x13 pan. Foolproof. Without further adieu...the best chocolate chip cookie bars you'll ever eat:
Ingredients
1 cup butter, melted
1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 cups flour
2 cups chocolate chips (use whatever you like; for me, it's always a toss-up)
Directions
1) In a large bowl, melt butter. Add sugar and brown sugar, mix well. When slightly cooled, add eggs, one at a time, blending well after each addition. Add baking soda, salt, and vanilla, combine well.
2) Stir in 3 cups of flour, then stir in chocolate chips. Drop dough into a greased 9x13 pan and bake in a 350 degree preheated oven for 20-25 minutes.
Now, a word of caution. Obviously, these aren't healthy, haha! I make them only when I'm home so I have other people who eat them. The way they're baked for only 20-25 minutes leaves the bars rather gooey; so bake longer if you see fit. In any case - enjoy!
Dean
The Liar's Table
Greetings everyone!
I realize it's been awhile! In the time that has lapsed between my last post and now, I've successfully finished my first semester at Luther Seminary, had a fantastic Christmas break, and am now embarking on a whirlwind rural immersion January term course. I've been baking up a storm in between those times, baking bread for the family and for gatherings. I've broken bread with my parents and grandparents and with good friends and classmates from seminary, and it has been a good thing.
I want to talk a bit in this post about our J-term immersion. As I write often, I'm interested in issues of rural culture and rural poverty. We spent the first part of our immersion in Dunlap and Moorhead, Iowa, two small towns in the west-central part of the state (not too far from Nebraska), where we were under the guidance of Pastor Carla Johnsen, who pastors the two ELCA churches in those communities. Rural poverty was evident. Rural culture was, appropriately, everywhere, and it was engaging.
I wanted nothing more than to stay in Dunlap and Moorhead. The towns, the people, everything about those places (and if you know me, you know that "the wonder of place" holds a huge fascination) was enthralling. We talked a lot about the people of the towns, and how they gather around common spots - the town diner, the town gas station, etc. In Dunlap, Carla affectionately calls the gas station diner booth "the liar's table" because nothing that comes out of the local's mouths can be believed. We all laughed, and in part it's true, but mostly it's not. I find the places where people gather, especially in rural areas, to be uplifting. People are laughing; shooting the breeze, and it's all social and nothing serious because often times in rural communities people need times like that. Stresses are all too real - something's wrong on the farm, a family member is ill, finances are in trouble, the list goes on and on - and to have that gathering space suddenly takes on a new importance.
Carla says that often those spaces become means for pastoral care. Her biggest piece of advice was to go to where the people are, don't expect them to come to you, and so she sits in the diner and the coffeeshop and gas station rather than her church office most of the time. Looking back to my own context, rural Cannon Falls, Minnesota, I think about the spaces people gather - the Cannonball, the grocery store (where often people crowd the aisles for 10 minutes and don't move), the bakery - and am thankful for those places because they become a place where people joke and laugh but also manage in serious, uplifting conversations every now and again. I think about Marcell and Grand Rapids and remember the times spent at the table around coffee at the Frontier Sports Convenience Store or the Pine Cone Shoppe in Marcell, or my aunt's house in Grand Rapids. My grandpa often patrons the Cannonball in Cannon Falls and sits around the horseshoe table with the other guys and town and comes to the farm laughing, "now, don't believe any of this, but...", and I think it does him some good. The Cannonball is our liar's table.
With this in mind, I encourage you to think about where you gather, who you gather around and with, and what your conversations are these days. Think about your contexts, your people. What types of things are happening in these whirlwinds of our lives that could use some space, some conversation, some uplifting? Could you use some time at a "liar's table" to shoot the breeze and laugh a little, or could you need some time for serious dialogue?
Anyway. Sort of a weird post, and I apologize. I'll update over the course of our immersion - I was just touched by these past few days and the lifestyles of the people. Rural culture and lifestyle is a wonderful thing.
From Shalom Hill Farm -
Dean
I realize it's been awhile! In the time that has lapsed between my last post and now, I've successfully finished my first semester at Luther Seminary, had a fantastic Christmas break, and am now embarking on a whirlwind rural immersion January term course. I've been baking up a storm in between those times, baking bread for the family and for gatherings. I've broken bread with my parents and grandparents and with good friends and classmates from seminary, and it has been a good thing.
I want to talk a bit in this post about our J-term immersion. As I write often, I'm interested in issues of rural culture and rural poverty. We spent the first part of our immersion in Dunlap and Moorhead, Iowa, two small towns in the west-central part of the state (not too far from Nebraska), where we were under the guidance of Pastor Carla Johnsen, who pastors the two ELCA churches in those communities. Rural poverty was evident. Rural culture was, appropriately, everywhere, and it was engaging.
I wanted nothing more than to stay in Dunlap and Moorhead. The towns, the people, everything about those places (and if you know me, you know that "the wonder of place" holds a huge fascination) was enthralling. We talked a lot about the people of the towns, and how they gather around common spots - the town diner, the town gas station, etc. In Dunlap, Carla affectionately calls the gas station diner booth "the liar's table" because nothing that comes out of the local's mouths can be believed. We all laughed, and in part it's true, but mostly it's not. I find the places where people gather, especially in rural areas, to be uplifting. People are laughing; shooting the breeze, and it's all social and nothing serious because often times in rural communities people need times like that. Stresses are all too real - something's wrong on the farm, a family member is ill, finances are in trouble, the list goes on and on - and to have that gathering space suddenly takes on a new importance.
Carla says that often those spaces become means for pastoral care. Her biggest piece of advice was to go to where the people are, don't expect them to come to you, and so she sits in the diner and the coffeeshop and gas station rather than her church office most of the time. Looking back to my own context, rural Cannon Falls, Minnesota, I think about the spaces people gather - the Cannonball, the grocery store (where often people crowd the aisles for 10 minutes and don't move), the bakery - and am thankful for those places because they become a place where people joke and laugh but also manage in serious, uplifting conversations every now and again. I think about Marcell and Grand Rapids and remember the times spent at the table around coffee at the Frontier Sports Convenience Store or the Pine Cone Shoppe in Marcell, or my aunt's house in Grand Rapids. My grandpa often patrons the Cannonball in Cannon Falls and sits around the horseshoe table with the other guys and town and comes to the farm laughing, "now, don't believe any of this, but...", and I think it does him some good. The Cannonball is our liar's table.
With this in mind, I encourage you to think about where you gather, who you gather around and with, and what your conversations are these days. Think about your contexts, your people. What types of things are happening in these whirlwinds of our lives that could use some space, some conversation, some uplifting? Could you use some time at a "liar's table" to shoot the breeze and laugh a little, or could you need some time for serious dialogue?
Anyway. Sort of a weird post, and I apologize. I'll update over the course of our immersion - I was just touched by these past few days and the lifestyles of the people. Rural culture and lifestyle is a wonderful thing.
From Shalom Hill Farm -
Dean
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