"For They are Yours" - a sermon for the community of Urland Lutheran Church

Hello, friends - 

Today I had the joy and privilege of joining the Urland Lutheran Church community in their worship - got to preach and preside over communion for the second time. I ran into a lot of people who I knew, who knew my family, and who were all extraordinarily kind, genuine, and warm-hearted. It was a fantastic morning! Here's the sermon manuscript, beginning with the Gospel text - John 17:6-19. 

"I have revealed you to those whom you gave me out of the world. They were yours; you gave them to me and they have obeyed your word. Now they know that everything you have given me comes from you. For I gave them the words you gave me and they accepted them. They knew with certainty that I came from you, and they believed that you sent me. I pray for them. I am not praying for the world, but for those you have given me, for they are yours. All I have is yours, and all you have is mine. And glory has come to me through them. I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name, the name you gave me, so that they may be one as we are one. While I was with them, I protected them and kept them safe by that name you gave me. None has been lost except the one doomed to destruction so that Scripture would be fulfilled.

I am coming to you now, but I say these things while I am still in the world, so that they may have the full measure of my joy within them. I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world. For them I sanctify myself, that they too may be truly sanctified."

Friends, grace to you and peace from God our Creator and God’s Son Jesus the Christ. Amen.

Thank you for having me today. My name is Dean Safe. I’m a Cannon Falls native, having grown up on a farm just a few miles from here. I’m currently studying at Luther Seminary to become a pastor in the ELCA. I’ve been a lifelong member of Spring Garden Lutheran Church, just up the road. I’m thankful to Pastor Yackel for offering me the opportunity to be here today, and it is my joy to join you in your worship this morning.

In May of 2012, I was a new college graduate, with my Bachelor of Arts in English Literature and Creative Writing. My parents, when I was in college, always wanted me to have a plan – “What are you going to do with your degree?”, they’d ask. Instead of going to find a job that paid a normal-person’s-living-wage, I decided to go work in the mountains of Washington State at Holden Village, a small Lutheran retreat center, where I cooked for a year, for almost no money. I made some smart life choices.

I’ve always been really bad at saying goodbye, and this journey to Holden Village was no exception. I was facing the facts that I wouldn’t see my family for months, and I’d be far away from the close-knit community I had been raised in. I had decided to take the Amtrak Empire Builder out west, and so here we stood in the train station, my mom, my dad, and I, at 11:00 at night, saying goodbye, with a “Be safe”, and “We’ll see you later”, and “Have fun!” It was a whirlwind of emotions – elation, excitement, terror, and deep sadness – as I turned away from my parents, stepped onboard the train, and found a seat. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to say goodbye, to leave Cannon Falls and all that I knew – but I boarded the train anyway.

The next day, I found myself surrounded by some pretty fascinating people. I ran into a man who had plans for an off-the-grid homestead in eastern Montana, and he told me how he never cared to marry and just wanted to raise chickens. There was another guy who was thrown off the train and arrested in Glasgow, Montana, and a kind elderly woman paid for my breakfast the second morning aboard. I finally made my way to Holden after 38 hours traversing the western half of our country, and I quickly found myself wrapped up in all that Holden Village has to offer – work, play, worship, and friends. I had traded one community; my home of Cannon Falls, for another.

Our Gospel text for today is also concerned with farewell, in prayer form. In John’s account we encounter Jesus saying goodbye to his disciples. Jesus is leaving his followers, his work – what he knows, in order that the disciples may carry on his work and ultimately for Christ to fulfill his mission – death on the cross for the salvation of the whole world. There is no turning back from this point, as in the scene after this he is arrested, beaten, and crucified, in rapid succession. He has been telling his followers that he must go to his Father, and has eluded plenty to the death that he will die. His disciples don’t necessarily understand. Jesus knows he has one more chance, after a succession of farewell speeches, and he knows that he has to get this one right. Jesus prays a prayer of goodbye and farewell that is deeply meaningful and intentional towards both the disciples as well as to us today.

Jesus’ relationship with his disciples is intimate – after all, they have been talking, teaching, and doing God’s work together for the past three years – for all of Christ’s public ministry. He prays to keep his disciples in God’s love as he says, “They knew with certainty that I came from you, and they believed that you sent me. I pray for them. I am not praying for the world, but for those you have given me, for they are yours.” I think Christ knows that the road ahead will be hard. He’s tried to teach them, through his series of farewell discourses, how life will be after he is ascended to the Father, but I don’t think the disciples yet fully understand just how important this is. In Jesus’ death, the ministry is handed over to the people, to the disciples – and that is no small task. They are being charged with speaking words of peace, doing acts of justice and reconciliation, and telling of God’s intentions for the whole world.

The disciples won’t always be liked, however, for doing this. Jesus says later in the prayer, “I have given them your word and the world has hated them, for they are not of the world any more than I am of the world. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one.” There will be people who will be against their words, against their actions, and the road in ministry won’t always be perfect. When they were working with Jesus, God had protected them, but now Christ must depart. I can imagine the disciples hearing these words being fearful and unsure what to expect in the coming days and months. In the end, almost all of the disciples die defending the faith that Christ instilled. But, no matter what, Jesus assures them that they belong to God – for they are not of the world any more than Jesus himself is. They have been together for three years, and through Christ’s actions they have seen how God works in the world. Their work together has been full of holy and ordinary moments, and Jesus promises that it won’t stop once Jesus is taken down from the cross.

We here at Urland Lutheran, at Spring Garden, at St. Pius, at First Baptist, at St. Ansgars and the Church around the world have the joy of finding out what God is doing in our lives and in the lives of other people. This prayer is ultimately about the love of Jesus that is for the people, and that includes you and your neighbor and me. We are each claimed by God to use our gifts and talents for the continued ministry of the church. What we do each day might not seem like much, and it might not seem like it’s important. We look at what the disciples did, in the era of the early church, and wonder how we compare. That’s the beauty of how God works, though. We are called to use our gifts, no matter what they are, or how significant a contribution they bring – because we are all a part of the Christian community and all of it advances God’s work here on earth which is full of reconciliation, justice, and words of hope in our broken, messy world.

My friends, we are lucky. Because we know that this prayer, the one that Jesus prayed for his disciples before his death, is not only for them. It is also for us, today, in Cannon Falls, Minnesota. We still are protected and called by the love of God, and we are still sanctified in the truth of Christ’s promises as we continue to carry out ministry together. It is a prayer of farewell to the disciples but it is also a prayer of invitation, one that we are welcomed into each and every day. I encourage you this week to notice the ways you see Christ’s love intersecting with your everyday life, because I promise you – we are called beloved of God each and every day. For that, I say “Thanks be to God”. Amen. 

God's Peace,

Dean 

"We are the Branches" - a sermon for the community of St. Andrew's Lutheran Church

Hello, friends -

Today I had the privilege and joy of leading the community of St. Andrew's Lutheran Church in worship, as well as preaching and presiding over communion for the first time! What an fun, fun time - I found myself smiling like an idiot the whole time I was in front. The people that make up that congregation have such sincere hearts, and it is a work of God to see how intentionally they worship. A fantastic day. Without further ado, here's my sermon manuscript:


"John 15:1-8 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vine grower. 2He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. 3You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. 4Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. 5I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. 6Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. 7If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. 8My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples."

Friends, grace to you and peace from God the Creator and the risen Son, Jesus the Christ. Amen.

It is a joy to be here today at St. Andrew’s Lutheran Church. My name is Dean Safe. I am just wrapping up my second year at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, where I am studying to be a pastor. Next year, I’ll be going out on internship to Pelican Rapids, Minnesota, where for a year I will try on the role of pastor. I got my beginning in this very congregation, however, where for a year I worked in the Grand Rapids community and among you faithful people. It is a joy to be back here once again leading worship and preaching – thank you for having me.

I grew up in the country, on a dairy farm nestled on the plains and hills of southeastern Minnesota. Some of my earliest memories are earthy – the smell of the cows in the barn, the sight of corn being harvested, and the sound of onions being pulled from the garden. We had a large garden just up from our house, and my grandfather was the gardener. He told me when I was small that you could pluck an onion up, and most times they were so sweet he could eat them like apples. He would wash them under the hose and eat them right there. I never understood how he could do that. Every year after the harvest was out he would cover our garden in leaves, and sometimes trim back and prune our strawberry patches when they got too big – so that next year, the garden would be abundant with ripe fruit and we would have all we needed. My grandfather was an excellent teacher, and got me interested in what it means to tend a garden – planting, watering, waiting, and harvesting – that rhythm of life is central to producing fruits and vegetables that are perfectly ripe and ready to be picked. Today, we still garden together.

Our text for today in the Gospel of John finds Jesus using gardening metaphors – pruning, bearing fruit, branches withering, and the like, and at first you can feel like you’re lost in metaphor trying to understand what this passage means. I spent a lot of time over these past few weeks conversing with friends in order to understand what this text is saying. I, admittedly, am still working through it myself, but I think there are treasures in this text that speak volumes to God’s working in the world through God’s love. I must be clear about something before beginning. I don’t think that this text is speaking about salvation – because it can be very much read as “some people are in, and some people are out”. In Christ, our salvation has been decided, and I firmly believe that every single person in this sanctuary is extraordinarily loved by a God who does radical, earth changing things. Your belief, whether you call out to God in prayer regularly or haven’t in years, doesn’t disqualify you. Your heart, your disappointments, your failures, and your actions – those don’t disqualify you. Know that God has laid claim to you and calls you his beloved each and every moment.

This text is not about salvation. Rather, I believe that this text is speaking about what it means to abide in something. To abide means generally to remain, continue, or stay invested in something, and that easily translates into our lives today – we are dedicated to our jobs, we are invested in our family, and are involved in our church and our life together. Those are all good things. But what about if things aren’t so great right now? I know I’ve kept a bad job, and stayed in an unhealthy relationship a time or two because I was afraid of how I would be perceived if things changed – I abided, I remained in situations that weren’t good. Even if what we abide in isn’t healthy or life giving, it’s admittedly hard to change habits or ways.

This is where today’s Gospel lesson comes in – this is where Jesus intersects our very own realities, no matter how good or bad life is right now. The text today is part of Jesus’s farewell speeches, that he gives to his disciples and followers in preparation for his crucifixion, essentially saying The ministry is turning to you now, so this is how you should live. The words Jesus speaks are ones of invitation and welcome. Yes, he says, life will be difficult. You will be persecuted, you will be beaten down, you will become weary of what this life holds for you – but know that in my resurrection life you will encounter a hope beyond your wildest imagination. This is where we meet Jesus in the text today. He uses metaphor. God is the vine grower, Jesus himself is the true branch. We, the people, the followers, are branches. We either grow fruit or we don’t. We either abide in Christ, or we don’t. Regardless, I believe God still calls us God’s beloved.

That’s a question worth pondering, I think. What does it mean to “abide” in Christ? I could offer theological responses on what that means, but I think a simple answer will be more than enough. God gives us the choice as to whether or not we want to live fully in Christ’s promises for us and for the world. To not abide in the life that Christ offers does not mean damnation, but rather that things aren’t as full and as vibrant as they could possibly be. When we get weighed down with whatever is difficult in our life, it does become difficult to notice Christ in our midst. I’ve noticed that in myself. When I get too focused on the things that hurt, I lose sight of what it means to be a Christ follower. Loving others becomes difficult. Doing ministry becomes a chore – and I know that that is not what God intends. He intends for this: for us to abide and bear fruit. To put it simply, those who live in Christ experience what the Spirit brings forth in each of us – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Those who abide in Christ are continually refined – pruned, as it is in the text – to continue to bear more good fruit, more works of ministry, to live humbly, honestly, and authentically out of the Christian life. As I said, the choice is ours.

Jesus continues on to say that “Abide in me as I abide in you” – that when we are living life in Christ’s hope, then so is Christ in us. When we are abiding in Christ and he is our true hope and our highest joy, suddenly the things that hurt aren’t as hurtful. Mourning will turn into joy. We love our neighbor and we love ourselves because we know that Christ abides in us and loves us. And that, my friends, is what it’s all about. I believe that it is happening in our very midst. It is evident in the things we do in this congregation. In my year here at St. Andrew’s, and even now – I have the joy of witnessing ministry done and conversations had that have been full of that kind of life, from pie auctions to Grace House work to wedding policy conversations to so much more. All of that, done out of abiding in Christ’s life, furthers God’s work in this world. We are, even 2000 years later, living in the footsteps of the first disciples and followers.

Christ, through God, has encountered us in real and tangible ways as we do ministry here at St. Andrew’s Lutheran Church. Good, rich fruit has been produced, and as we continue to do this work together in the resurrection hope that Jesus offers, I encourage you to look for ways you find yourself – or not – abiding in the risen Christ. Where does your life intersect with the holy? Notice where you are bearing fruit, because if it is in Christ, you will live in abundance, and I promise there, you will find the very heart of God. Thanks be to God. Amen.

God's Joy this night, my friends -
Dean

"Being Called by Name" - a sermon for the community of Spring Garden Lutheran Church

Hello friends -

This morning I had the joy of preaching at my home congregation, Spring Garden Lutheran - about Mary meeting Jesus face to face after his resurrection from the dead. Without further ado - here's the manuscript. This was a hard sermon to write - but it finally came together.


Friends, Grace to you and Peace from God our Creator and God’s Resurrected Son, Jesus the Christ. Amen.

When I graduated college in 2012, I decided to pick up and move across the country – to do something different for a season before I began seminary. I moved to Washington State, where for a year I worked in the mountains at a Lutheran retreat center called Holden Village – what was once a rustic mining town in the 1930s. Even today – there’s no TV, no phone, and very limited Internet access. To go there for a time is to say goodbye to family, to friends, and largely to the “outside world” as you know it. I entered into the Holden community in the summer of 2012 knowing that I wouldn’t see my family for quite a time. I entered in the busy season – 500 guests per week that all needed to be fed. We joined in nightly worship together, hiked together, and ran around in the cold glacier water of Railroad Creek together. Summer soon turned to fall. The air got cooler, and the trees on the top of Buckskin Mountain turned a golden yellow.

My family – my mom, dad, two of my brothers and my dad’s parents – decided to come and stay for a week in October, after I had been there for five months. The journey to get to Holden is time consuming – a combination of train, plane, bus, boat, and another bus – so I wanted to meet them at the boat dock as sort of a “Welcome to Holden!” greeting. When I got down to the lakeshore, I saw the big “Lady of the Lake” boat come around the corner, hidden by another alpine mountain. Across the lake, my brother spotted me and yelled, “Dean!” I would recognize that voice anywhere – and he had called me by name. I hadn’t seen my family in months, and missed them terribly – and now all of a sudden – they were here!

Our Gospel text today is also concerned with calling people by name in a way that lays claim to and makes known.  Our names and titles are how we are known in the world – by our vocation, by our role in the family, and so on. Our names give us our own distinct identity. I am Dean. You are Carol or Scott or Dennis or Pauline. You are father, mother, brother, or a teacher, business owner, or homemaker. Collectively, we are Spring Garden Lutheran Church. Jesus who calls us by name encounters us all. It began with this story in our Gospel text. We meet followers of Jesus who are in mourning – who have been dedicated to following him, who identify with him, but are facing the harsh reality of a world without the Messiah.

We encounter three people in this narrative – Mary Magdalene, Simon Peter, and “the disciple whom Jesus loved”. They are running to the tomb. They are running to the tomb because Mary found the stone rolled away, and no one is sure what to make of it. It’s been a confusing, distraught, and schizophrenic week for Mary, Simon, the unnamed disciple, and the rest of Jesus’s followers. In a week, they have gone from seeing Jesus lauded and paraded into Jerusalem on a donkey’s back to Christ hanging on a cross drinking sour wine and calling out to God, saying it is finished. They by and large didn’t understand Jesus’s talk about resurrection. Mary, as expected, was surprised and horrified to find the stone moved early in the morning. A thief, she thought. Not only is Jesus dead but someone has come for the body. They eventually, after some hesitation, enter the tomb and find the linens Jesus was laid in neatly rolled up. The body was gone. Supposedly, there was nothing left to see. Simon Peter and the disciple return home, leaving Mary at the tomb. Alone. Alone, Mary waits and lingers.

Angels appear to Mary, but they tell her nothing. They act as signposts, really, for what is to come next, and it is arguably one of the most moving scenes in the whole of the Bible. In her mourning, Jesus appears to her. She didn’t recognize him at first, mistaking him for a gardener – and what she says to him demonstrates the ultimate mark of discipleship – “tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Then calling her by name, Mary, the ever-faithful disciple that she is, recognizes Christ face-to-face, as she exclaims “Teacher!” Filled with joy – she has seen Christ resurrected in the flesh – she returns to the disciples and tells them everything. Sorrow has been turned to joy. Mourning into gladness. Death into life. Come and see. Jesus is alive.

I like to think that in this moment, God is smiling on creation. Something’s in the air here. Something has changed. People are being called by name and believing is happening and the distance between God and the world has been closed. That moment was the first time that Jesus appeared to his followers after being laid in the tomb. At that moment the whole world was turned upside down, and the Christ’s earthly ministry was handed over to the disciples. Jesus instructs Mary not to hold on to him, for he ultimately knows that he will not be on earth much longer. The responsibilities have shifted. The ministry turns to the people, and that ministry begins when Mary starts running.

That’s the beauty of the church’s 2000-year existence; not much has changed. Since Mary first came to the disciples and told them about the risen Christ, we are doing much the same thing. We live in the hope of the resurrection today, and for 2000 years people have been called by name to carry out God’s work. We still live in the promises of Christ’s resurrection and ascension while things are being made new by God in the world around us. Through Christ’s resurrection, salvation is taken care of and all sins are forgiven. Through Christ’s resurrection, we each individually are called by name as children and beloved of God.

What does this mean for us? Here at Spring Garden, we see resurrection lived out in extraordinarily ordinary ways. We are all, in one way or another, Mary. We are searching and finding out what it means to be God’s people in this very place to only have our names called by Jesus himself. The gifts, talents, and ministry we each individually bring to this place testify to that calling. Whether you sing in our choir, help prepare and serve meals at a funeral, present your child for baptism, receive communion around the altar, or go on mission trips to Guatemala or Tanzania, we are all participating in the new life, the resurrection life, that God has invited us into through Christ’s rising. When Jesus called Mary by name and she noticed him for the first time clearly, so Jesus calls us by name as well to be disciples and participants in God’s justice being done on earth – whether it’s cooking a meal for a family or giving a friend a shoulder to lean on – believe me when I say that all of that counts.

In all of this, know that in resurrection you are claimed by your deepest identity. We celebrate the empty tomb in all that it means – death has been defeated and Christ has triumphed salvation for every single person in this room and undoubtedly the whole world. Christ was not only then, but he is also here and now and very much for each and every one of you. In God, we have been invited and welcomed into something that is nothing short of miraculous. Jesus is inviting you to come and see that resurrection is here and resurrection is now – and for that, I say, “Thanks be to God.” Amen.

God's Joy -
Dean

there's something about pastors and bread

Hello, friends - 

I turned off the oven at work one day, its loud hum and whirring finally coming to a stop. It was quiet, after four hours of baking. My fellow baker and I worked in silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm.

She was getting muffins ready to be put out on the tables. Loaves of bread sat cooling, and cookies were getting ready to be baked because next week it’s going to be a buy-one-get-one-free deal and it’s going to be crazy.

We were talking about our jobs, I think. She works as a cook at school, where she gets to see my little brother every day. I’m a seminarian, getting ready to go on internship this next year.

If I wasn’t supposed to be a pastor, I’d be a baker. I said, getting ready to assemble garlic bread.

She stopped, setting some pumpkin muffins down, and said, thoughtfully, you know, there’s something about pastors and bread.

There’s something about pastors and bread.

I let that phrase sit – it was so articulated, yet left shrouded in the unknown. I mean, beyond communion – beyond this is my body given for you, do this for the remembrance of me – what is it?

After I get off work at 12:30, I’ll often bake a loaf in the afternoon, for my family and I to have table bread to share at suppertime as we crowd around the kitchen island. It’s usually something simple – a plain tangy sourdough or sometimes an Italian herb round – but it’s nurturing and wholesome and from the earth and from my hands. There’s a piece of myself, and of every baker who bakes loaves, given with each loaf…in our own way, we are each saying this is my body given for you and for me and for everyone. Pieces are quickly torn and consumed and we know that others are being nourished and fed in a way that is holy and good and real. It's a micro-level feeding of the 5,000 - everyone eats and has their fill. 

It goes back to working with my hands. It’s kneading the dough and shaping and throwing flour and lifting heavy cast iron pots and holding hot, crusty, crackling loaves. It’s throwing my hands up in frustration when dough pancakes or is a complete failure, and it’s about rejoicing in those, too. It’s giving away to friends – passing into another’s hands. It’s an earthy, real joy.

One night in February, my girlfriend and I were having dinner at our pastors’ house. Homemade spaghetti and apple crisp and good bread. We don’t cut our loaves here, they said, we tear it with our hands. That way the fibers can tear and go how they want. Since then, I haven’t sliced my bread. After all, Jesus broke it with his hands. 

There’s something about bread and this pastor – about how it feeds community, and how it expresses genuine interest in the other in the name of Jesus the Christ.

Friends, as you go into this night, may you realize the Christ who comes to you in bread and wine and nourishes your faith – Amen.

Dean 

A sermon for the community of Spring Garden Lutheran Church - March 15 2015

Hello friends - 

I hope this finds you well. Today I had the privilege and joy of preaching at my home congregation of 25 years, Spring Garden Lutheran Church. I preached on Mark 8:31-38, talking about new discipleship, our call and commitment as a rural family in Christ, and reclaiming our identity as children of God. Without further ado, my sermon: 

          Friends, grace to you and peace from God our Creator and God’s Son Jesus the Christ. Amen. I invite you to think for a moment or two. What would be three things – family, material things, career, or a hobby – that you would say would best define your identity, or that you are most proud of? What are those? I have mine – I define my identity most deeply as a farm kid, a seminary student, and as someone who is deeply relational. Do you have yours? Hold those for a moment. Our Gospel text for today will take those identities and challenge them. In today’s Gospel reading, we are brought into a new reality: what it means to deeply, intentionally, and authentically follow Jesus Christ in a way that is starkly counterculture to the rural America we inhabit today. 

We open the text today and find Jesus teaching. This teaching, this telling of the next part of Christ’s life, isn’t pleasant. Christ tells his disciples that he is to undergo “great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again.” Christ is telling his disciples that he is, ultimately, going to be rejected by the top authorities of the religious system. He must die. 

Peter, one of Christ’s disciples, is understandably concerned. He pulls Christ aside and talks to him in private. The passage doesn’t give us explicitly the exchange between Peter and Jesus, but I don’t think we need to know exactly what was said, for Jesus’s response was powerful: “Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.” 

Let’s pause here, just for a moment. I can imagine if I was Peter, I would be hurt. Being called Satan is nothing to be taken lightly. It’s a serious accusation. What does it mean when Jesus states that we have our mind on human things? Correct me if I’m wrong, but most of the time I have my mind on human things, as I’m sure many of you do as well. These words have always left me unsure, and slightly unsettled. Most days, I don’t know what to make of them. Maybe they’re just meant to linger, and to sink in. Maybe it’s for a greater purpose. 

       Jesus uses these words as a catalyst to make his larger, overarching point. He draws the crowd together – those who were around him and his disciples – and begins to proclaim. Again, they are words that we are not used to hearing, and are hard to rationalize in our 21st century American culture. We are told we have to deny ourselves. We are told that we need to take up our crosses, to lose our lives for the sake of the gospel. Christ says that it won’t profit us anything to gain the world and lose our lives at the end. For those who are ashamed of Christ, he will be equally ashamed of them when he comes with his Father. 

      These words are seemingly so antiquated. How does this relate to us, little Spring Garden Lutheran Church? We live largely in a culture that is driven by consumerism. We live largely in a world that is telling us to be individual – to be ourselves. We live in a world now that is, more and more, not utilizing organized religion in it’s proper, life giving means. There is no doubt that, even as faithful followers of Christ, we are still influenced by the world in which we live. We are comparing ourselves to others in terms of our wealth, health, family, career, personal happiness – and the list goes on. We get caught up in the “human things” of life so often that it is easy to lose sight of the One who has welcomed us into faith. 

     Jesus’s words are a clarion call to us all. These words, while they appear difficult, distasteful, and backwards, are actually an invitation and welcome into something greater. I don’t think Jesus expects us to give up what we identify ourselves as – as hardworking, honest, good rural folk who love each other. I think immediately of the meal train set up for Beth Windhorst – families immediately showed up with food, hugs, and prayers. Those are good identifiers. This is precisely what it means to be a part of God’s activity in the world. What Jesus is talking about, I believe, is a more selfless devotion to his teaching, to himself, and ultimately to God. As I mentioned before, we get caught up in the negative things that can soon define us – broken relationships, a dead-end job, or whatever is weighing you down right now – we get thinking about those very human, real things and suddenly it becomes difficult to carry our cross, to show the love of God to our neighbor and ourselves.

     In the midst of this, we are invited to give up our identities – to give up the bad things that hold our thoughts captive and to move past our good identities into simply being what Christ has called us to – being children of God. When we fully carry our cross – when we love each other out of authentic good will  – that is when our identity as children of God, as disciples, takes full form. These words – losing our lives, all the rest – are a radical call to new discipleship – they explain how we can model our lives after Jesus. They’re just as applicable now in Cannon Falls, Minnesota as they were in 1st century Israel when Christ was about to be put to death. To fully follow Jesus, we are encouraged to let go of our identities and claim our status as God’s beloved. To lose our lives means becoming fully involved in God’s activity in the world for the sake of the gospel – through sharing meals, prayers, communion, and in countless other ways in how you treat others Monday through Saturday. This work, this new discipleship, begins at our baptism and is concluded when we join the saints triumphant. It’s as simple as that. I know – it’s easy for me to say, but it’s another thing to remember and embody it. 

     In short, yes, these words are what we are not used to hearing. We are so often defined by what the world’s standards are. Jesus calls us into something different. He calls us to abandon everything – to lose our life for the sake of the gospel – so that we might find our hope and new life in Christ as we discover together what we’re called to proclaim and do in God’s mission. In following Christ wholeheartedly and unashamedly, we indeed do gain everything – and that, my friends, is more than what the world could ever promise. As you go into this week, look for ways to more fully carry your cross as an example to this world. Look for ways to disciple. Look and see how God’s love, by your witness, is everywhere. Thanks be to God. Amen. 

Dean

where you come from & where you go: reflections on transition

Hello friends -

I hope you've all been well this month. Things have been busy since I've wrapped up my January term course, working at the bakery primarily. This weekend I had the opportunity to go to Marcell and spend time with my grandparents, visit my St. Andrew's family, and see good friends. It was a refreshing two days in the midst of life's busyness. My girlfriend, Lauren, came along with me.

It was a chance to laugh, to play "Spit" the card game, to drink bad coffee and make messy pizza dough. It was time for Nancy Raymond's amazing apple pie, for the love between us prayer, for asking the same question five times and for honest conversation. It was a time to give away bread, to hug good friends, and to wish for big things as I enjoyed the silence.

I was surrounded today not by cars and tall buildings and busy people but by birds, trees, and silence that hung like a cloak around us but I soaked in every second. I took the time to listen to how the snow crunched under our feet as we walked along the lake, and how the snow fell on the ground and covered the cabin deck.

We went to church yesterday at my old ministry internship site, St. Andrew's Lutheran in Grand Rapids. Got to hear the timely words - while we may be ordinary people, with God we are super (it was Camp Sunday at St. A's, the camp's theme being "superheroes") and catch up with Myrna and Pastor David and Pastor Megan and know that I was welcome. It is such a refreshing congregation to be a part of. Afterwards we went to brunch with my great-aunt and got to catch up briefly on what they were up to. How Florida was fun and life was good.

We made homemade pizza for dinner and I messed up the dough and had milk running all over the counter. Turned out nonetheless. Lauren and I later mixed ourselves E&J and Coke and watched Despicable Me 2 and laughed at the minions.

I left this morning thankful for those places and spaces and people in Marcell and Grand Rapids who have woven themselves into the fabric of my life. I returned to the Cities to drop off Lauren, and was surrounded, once again, by loud cars and houses and concrete. I have to remind myself that this life in the Cities will last just a few more months. Then I'm out - doing ministry and being among God's people in smaller places, where the silence is too big and not enough and the hardships are all too well remembered. My pastor always told me to remember how I felt leaving and place and returning somewhere else - for there lies my call.

I ask you this night - what are you thankful for? Who are the people, places, and spaces that have come into your life? Where and what is your God-given calling?

Joy, my friends - thanks be to God.

Dean

"You Are My Son, the Beloved" - a sermon for the community of Bethel Lutheran Church, Herman, MN

Hello friends -

Today at preached at Bethel Lutheran, in Herman, Minnesota - a small town in the northwest part of the state of about 400 people. I went with my classmate Jon Rundquist, who led worship. Adventures were had along the way - stopping to see the prairie views, and stopping at the local haunts - namely the local convenience store, for breakfast. The saints at Bethel Lutheran are wonderful people, and it was a privilege that they welcomed us for worship this morning. Here's the sermon I gave for the community:

You are my Son, the Beloved

Friends, grace to you and peace from God our Creator and God’s beloved Son, Jesus the Christ. Amen. It is a joy to be with you today. I bring you greetings from Luther Seminary and sincere thanks that you have welcomed us to join you in worship this morning. My name is Dean Safe, and I’m joined by my classmate Jon Rundquist. We’re second year students at Luther Seminary both preparing to be pastors.

Jon and I both grew up in small town and rural contexts. I’m the son of a seventh generation farming family, who was raised on a 30-head Holstein dairy farm. My parents, when we were farming, never had much money. We lived lives of scarcity and hope for much of my first 16 years. Farm equipment was unpredictable, crop and milk prices always going up and down and crashing. My parents were consistently making choices between buying medicine and buying food. One memory I vividly recall is going to town with my dad in his ’85 Chevy Silverado. It was in the coldest days of winter, and there was snow flying through the back window. We were bundled up and the heat was on, but it didn’t make much of a difference. My dad couldn’t afford to fix it, as we needed groceries for the week. He attempted to make a joke – “Isn’t it cool, son? It’s not too often you get to ride in a truck with it’s own personal snow globe!” Life on the prairie wasn’t easy, but it indeed came with blessing. I was taught to live in communion with family – how to work with a team. How to trust friends. How to trust God. There was joy amidst the hardships. There were moments of clarity in the wilderness.

`When I found out from Pastor David that I would be preaching here, particularly on this text, I was delighted. There’s so much to say, and much to consider. In today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark, we begin with John the Baptist. We have seen John in earlier texts this month proclaiming the One who is to come among us. His work, primarily, is as a forerunner and baptizer of the people. With this understanding, this is where we first encounter John in this text. John is baptizing at the Jordan, and throngs of people are coming to him. There’s energy here – the gathered community of people is being baptized and sins are being forgiven. People are being washed anew and given life. There aren’t any rules. That’s my favorite part. There’s wilderness, there’s no exclusions. Everyone – regardless of belief, social order, and family status – is being baptized. It’s by no means tame or orderly or restrictive.

It would be easy for John to take credit for all of this. It would be easy for John to point to himself as something greater. But instead, he doesn’t. John stands on the banks of the Jordan and says that “Indeed, there is someone more powerful than I coming after me.” If anyone knows humility, it’s this man. John wears camel’s hair, eats wild honey and locusts and baptizes people but does it in the name of God. He speaks of the One who is coming as he says, “I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water, but He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” John does this to be clear. His is not the one to be followed, adored, or commemorated. It’s interesting to note, too, that in Mark’s Gospel John does not explicitly name Christ, but I believe it can be inferred. Jesus, the savior of the whole world, the one who is just about to begin his public ministry, is the one who will baptize with the Spirit and seal us as children of God.

This crossroads moment in the latter half of the text has always inspired me – because it’s still applicable today as when it was written. Jesus, after being baptized by John, hears the words of God – “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well-pleased.” This authorizes Jesus’s earthly ministry and is the send-off for his roughly three years of work in the public arena – healing, teaching, preaching, eating, and throwing over tables. This baptism is the beginning of a religious and political revolution where the marginalized are included and the dead are raised and the poor are given something to eat. This baptism by John with the Holy Spirit show how God uses humanity to complete God’s work. This baptism is where God calls Christ God’s Beloved. This baptism of Christ is the clarion call for us all to participate. Even now in 2015. And what a beautiful and frightening call this is.

You may be thinking, what does this mean? My friends, our baptism into Christ’s Church and into this family is only the beginning. Our journey in the Christian story doesn’t end after we’re sprinkled with water, by no means. Baptism is where we are named, called, and claimed as children of God. Our baptism is where God says that each and every one of us is God’s beloved. Our baptism gives us an invitation to live into all of what God has promised – to live lives of mercy, justice, and hope for the whole world and for ourselves in our everyday lives. We are invited to live lives rooted in community – to be exactly what American culture says we should not be. We are called to be authentic and honest with each other as we work out of our Christian understanding. We are, indeed, to be the face of Christ to our friends, to our neighbors, to strangers, to the poor, and to those who make us uncomfortable. We can live fully into what Mark is promoting here – community that is inclusive, joyful, and anything but tame.

I realize that all of that sounds nice and ideal, but we know better. This passage doesn’t preclude that things will be easy, either. Jesus’s baptism is in the wilderness. The heavens are torn open. It’s real, and it’s honest. We all know what awaits Christ – the eventuality of the cross. Jesus baptism in this passage is, yes, an ordaining of public ministry and an acknowledgement of status as God’s son – but it is so much more than that. This washing in the Jordan seals what Christ is to fulfill. Living as a servant-king, Jesus is eventually to be condemned to death for the sake of the world.  There are parallels to be drawn here. Our baptism in Christ doesn’t promise us an easy life. We live with proverbial wilderness in our own lives. We’re human. We fight, we disagree, and we bicker. We get hurt, and it becomes all too easy to hurt others back. We deal with relationship strain, financial problems, depression, job loss, and a host of other things that life just seems to throw our way sometimes. Our lives on the prairie and in small towns are sometimes filled with hardships that seemingly have no answers. Our baptism calls us and claims us, yes, but we are still faced with the everyday unpleasant realities we face in our humanness. This is where our baptism changes the story, however. We wander through the wilderness for some seasons of our lives – but we live with the expectation and hope that God has the final say.

That’s the beauty of it all. We are baptized into Christ with water and the Holy Spirit, called and claimed by God for community. We are called into participation. We are called to be promise. We are called in baptism to practice resurrection, dying and rising, every single moment of the day. We can live with this hope that no matter what hardships we endure, God has the final say. God gives reconciliation in our brokenness, and joy in our fear. Our baptisms are made complete in death when God actively reconciles every person to God’s self. We are assured that death has no power. In baptism, when we die, it is finished. Christ has won. And what a beautiful promise that is in our Christian story.

I leave you today with this: I encourage you throughout the week to notice where you see baptism in your life; where you see Christ’s promise at work in your day to day being. How does God call you God’s Beloved? For I promise you – God’s love is alive and fresh and real. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Dean