Baptismal Renewal in 2011

by the Rev. Nancy Christensen
Southeastern Synod Director for Mission

There's a website called "threadless.com" in which artists can submit designs for t-shirts, and the "community" of viewers can score them to determine whether they get printed, or not. The shirts chosen are for sale, and the designs are quirky, bizarre, funny, ironic... you know, "artistic"! One of my favorites is a drawing of a giant squid under the water, holding a stick with the head of a monster above the surface. It's called "Loch Ness Imposter."

As 2010 comes to a close, I'm resonating with that image. It seems there are many of us who often feel as though we are pretending to be something we're not, and who are living with regrets or disappointment as we look back over the past days and months. We believe it's not enough to be a squid! We want to give the world what we think the world expects from us, and so we work hard to fool ourselves, and everyone else.

But, we are forgetting that, even as squids, we are immersed in the waters of our baptism! We are claimed by God so that in each new day we might be emboldened to begin again, and to be born anew. Over and over, we hear God speak that we should "be not afraid" because we are loved, just as we are!

Maybe 2011 is just the opportunity we need to take God's love seriously, and to live more fully into the gift of our baptism. Instead of looking back with regret, perhaps we can look forward with all the hope and possibility that the new year affords to us. And, perhaps we can even go further, still, committing ourselves to taking risks in faith that will make a real difference.

Dave Daubert, Kelly Fryer, and Tana Kjos have created a consulting group called, "A Renewal Enterprise." Their mission statement is this: Be who you are. See what you have. Do what matters. Like the Threadless t-shirt, this mission statement also resonates with me, and speaks to my inner squid. It says that we are free to participate in God's creative experiment without needing to BE more or to HAVE more than what we've already been given.

For this freedom, I, for one, am extremely grateful.

We give you thanks, O God, that through water and the Holy Spirit you give us new birth, cleanse us from sin, and raise us to eternal life. Stir up in your people the gift of your Holy Spirit: the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord, the spirit of joy in your presence, both now and forever. Amen.
(from "Affirmation of Baptism," ELW, p. 237)

A Christmas Reflection by Bishop H. Julian Gordy

"And the Word became flesh and lived among us." (John 1:14)

John's gospel begins, not with the birth of Jesus, but with a theological statement of incarnation: literally, "...the Word became flesh and pitched its tent with us."

The incarnation is a mystery that theologians and philosophers have pondered and argued about for centuries. How is it possible for the Creator to become a creature? How could an unlimited and infinite and immortal and unknowable God become limited and finite and mortal and knowable in the way we humans are limited and finite and mortal and knowable? How could the Almighty One who created the Himalayas and the Grand Canyon and the solar system and supernovas become an infant who has to have his diapers changed and be potty trained and learn to eat solid food? How could the God of Righteousness come to need scolding by his parents? How could the all-knowing Creator experience the ordinary fears and ignorance of childhood or the emotional and physical chaos of a teenager or the confusion and anxiety of adulthood?

The idea is the stumbling block and the scandal to some. The best answer that Christians can give is, "It's a holy mystery." But it is a mystery not primarily handed down to us as theology. It is given to us as a story, a very familiar story, a story told and sung and acted out over and over every year at this time.

The whole world knows it by now. In that birth, we believe the God of the Universe became not just a human, but a very specific human being - a poor, temporarily homeless refugee, the victim of an overbearing government policy. The event that we mark now as the turning point of human history was marked then only by the baby's parents and a few shepherds. No one else paid much attention.

In this familiar story, if we are paying attention, we discover that God is not only indescribably majestic, unapproachable light, not only inaccessible holiness and omniscience. God is also one of us, as helpless and wholly reliant on his young and inexperienced parents as any other infant.

I can't wrap my mind around the reality of the God of the swirling galaxies and the big bang, the totally other, outside time, Ground of All Being. But like most of us, I get babies. I've seen them and held them and welcomed them into the family.

In Bethlehem of Judea, on the first Christmas, God came to us as a baby, spoke to us in a language we can all understand - in the story of a baby's first cry, a mother's protective love, a father's anxious standing by. For two thousand years we have been telling the story because it is the best we can do to explain the unexplainable, to say thanks for something so fine as this baby who is evidence that God is with us, with the least of us, with every last one of us.

God is with the poor and the hungry, with the homeless and the unemployed, with the lonely and the addicted, with the sick and the dying. God has not forgotten the refugees and the persecuted and the misunderstood. God is with us. God is with us in the dangerous city of Kandahar, in the refugee camp in Darfur, in the walled-off-prison city of Bethlehem.

God is with us when our marriages fall apart, when our children get in trouble. God is with us when our health fails, when age and disease whittle away at our stamina and our competence. God is with us. So we tell the story again until we can see God with us. We tell it until we can see God with the unwanted and forgotten of the world. We tell the story until it is pressed into our conscience, until God becomes incarnate in us and we begin, to some degree anyway, to become Christ to our neighbors, incarnations of the good news that God loves the world.

Welcoming the Visitor

Pastor Darrel Peterson, Assistant to the Bishop

Most of us know the importance of being a friendly and welcoming church. But so often reports come back that someone attended worship and no one, NO ONE, (except maybe the pastor) spoke to them. We hate to hear it. Sometimes we make yet another effort to create a system of intentional welcoming. We have the members stand and greet those not standing. We ask visitors to put gold crosses on their clothing, so members can welcome those so identified in the fellowship hall. We have members stand near the pastor, so when the pastor recognizes someone is new, he or she can turn and introduce the visitors to the designated welcomers.

Well, it happened again. Someone new to the community attended worship in one of our churches and reported to me that no one spoke to him in the fellowship area after worship. Yes, the pastor greeted him on his exit from the sanctuary. But it was a large church, and the pastor greeted him anonymously. When he got to the fellowship hall, folks were enthusiastically visiting. Some were obviously networking regarding church business. The treats were good. The coffee was “church coffee”. He tried different locations in the room, but no one spoke to him. Being an active Lutheran, he recognized what was going on. He remembered the church he had come from and supposed some of their visitors had had a similar experience.

I reflected on another conversation I had with one of our pastors who lamented how his daughter and son-in-law (finally) checked out churches in another state and reported similar, less than welcoming experiences. His daughter, who had grown up actively in the church, did not feel welcome! He continued to say they now were more likely to go hiking or to go to the gym on Sunday mornings.

You may be thinking that this blog is painfully mundane and lacking in Christmas spirit the week before Christmas. Well, it is, but Christmas is a time when we can get a “fresh cut” on the trunks of our real trees. Perhaps we can take in some water to nurture our tree and keep the needles from falling off.

Mary and Joseph were welcomed into the “overflow lodging”. Early visitors to the stable were the God-sent angels and the shepherds from the countryside. Our Christmas story is about welcoming the Savior, who came into our midst in humble circumstances. The story is most uncommon and would be followed by an uncommon story of God’s salvation for humankind.

Perhaps we can take away from the Christmas story a fresh sense of welcoming. Circumstances may bring them. But chances are we may have to meet them in the community. We need to welcome, realizing their coming will change who we are. And is everyone welcome? We say it is, and it needs to be true. Chances are, God will have some surprises for us. We may need to turn ourselves “inside out” to grasp the power of truly welcoming the visitor. What will it take for us to be a welcoming church? Probably nothing less than a new cast of angels and whoever is out there with the sheep.

The Cross and Christmas

by the Rev. Dr. Delmer Chilton, Assistant to the Bishop

A few years ago, on a Thursday afternoon just before Christmas, I went down to a local retirement center for a concert. Several of the members of the Choir were also members of my church.

They did a very hilarious version of “I'm getting nuttin’ for Christmas.” Do you know the song? A little boy sings about all the mischief he’s been in, and then the chorus goes:“I'm getting nuttin’ for Christmas, ‘cuz I ain’t been nuttin’ but bad.”

After I finished laughing, I started thinking and realized that while that line sums up a lot of our thinking about how God works, it’s just not true. Indeed, it is the exact opposite of the Gospel truth; it is because we “ain’t been nuttin’ but bad” that we have received the one gift we needed, which is Jesus Christ Our Lord.

Not just or primarily us as individuals, but us as the human race, us as humanity, As the Bible says, God so loved the World, the Cosmos,that he sent his only beloved Son.

It’s not so much that we are individually evil, it’s that the world is in a mess, and needs to find its way out. The first Christmas came at a time of political and social unrest. Israel was once again a conquered country, living under the domination of the Romans, ruled by King Herod, a cruel, cruel man.

When Christ came, there was hunger and social injustice and war raged upon innocents, all in the name of such things as Truth and Justice and National Security. Then as now, the old values had become skewed and obscured and unrecognizable and public life was shrill and uncivil.

And into such a world God sent the Son.

The message then and the message now is that we are not alone in the midst of the world’s evil, though we, collectively," ain’t been nuttin’ but bad," we’re still getting something for Christmas.

God has come to us in the midst of our distress. In the middle of our loneliness and despair, God has sent us a sign of his love. Into a world filled with hopelessness, God comes to us in the hopeful form of new life and new birth.

Back in the 1960’s, a Methodist Minister I know graduated from the Seminary at Drew University in New Jersey and was sent to his first church, near a little farm town down east of Raleigh, NC.

In July, he had his first funeral. In seminary they had told him that the choir should sing whatever the family requested, and so he asked the widow what song she wanted, she said, “He liked Silver Bells. He always said he wanted Silver Bells sung at his funeral.” So my friend swallowed hard and said, "We can do that."

So it was that on a blistering hot day in July, in a little country Church without air conditioning,
the choir stood up at a funeral and sang, "Silver Bells, Ding a Ling, it’s Christmas time in the city."

My friend said he would never forget the confused look on the faces of the congregation as the choir sang verse after verse of Silver Bells at a funeral. As the minister led the procession across the street into the cemetery, the widow caught up with him and whispered, "You know Pastor, I was wrong. It wasn’t Silver Bells he wanted. It was When they ring those Golden Bells. "

Christ came to be a beacon of light in a dark world, Christ came to show us love in the midst of hatred and strife. Christ came to bring life in the midst of death. Which is why it is not such a bad idea to sing Christmas songs at funerals.

It is a reminder to us that Christ did not come to be cute, Christ came to die; the cross hovers over the manger of the Christ Child.

Christ did not come so that we can have parties and give gifts.
Christ did not come, to reward us for being good, but to save us from being bad.
Christ came to show us the love and care of God in the midst of a deadly and dangerous world.
Christ came to show us how to live and how to die.
Christ came to die upon the cross for us, to save us from sin, death and the devil.

Which is why, on Christmas morn, we will sing with somber joy and reverent jubilation:

Silver Bells, Ring-a-ling, it’s Christmas time in the city.
I’m getting’ sumin’ for Christmas, even though I been nuttin’ but bad.
For unto us a child is born, who is Christ the LORD.

Working While We Wait

by Mr. Kyle Cristofalo
Coordinator of Programs for Hunger, Poverty and Justice Issues

I have never been particularly good at waiting. When I was younger I would dread having to get my hair cut because the prospect of sitting patiently still for 20 minutes was too much for me to imagine. How could I sit and be calm when there were so many other things to do? What was the point of getting my hair cut if it would just start growing back the next day anyway?
I was the same way in the weeks leading up to Christmas. Each year, starting as early as November, I would scour my house in search of Christmas gifts my parents may already have bought. I would beg my mom to tell me what presents I could expect. I would offer to give some of my Christmas money to my sisters if they would do undercover investigation work for me. Despite very rarely succeeding at finding out what presents I would get, I still tried every year hoping that maybe I would locate the secret treasure I longed for. My mother would quickly reprimand me each time, noting that I shouldn’t be so concerned about my presents. I’m sure she said more, but it was as if she we were speaking different languages. She clearly could not grasp the urgency with which I spoke.

Advent is supposed to be a season of waiting. Derived from the Latin word Adventus, which means “coming,” we are called to eagerly anticipate the birth of Christ; celebrating the event whereby God came to the world in human form. We are called to suspend our earthly temptations to be completely overwhelmed by Christmas preparations, and remember that our celebrations have nothing to do with presents, but everything to do with the advent of the One in whom we trust for salvation. We wait, in addition, for the time when our Savior will return again, confident in the knowledge that Christ’s work on earth is not yet finished.

But is waiting the proper response? Do we miss valuable opportunities for mission by remaining silent? My questions do not derive from my previous admission of impatience. In fact, as I’ve grown older I’ve come to appreciate the time to silently wait for the time when suffering will be no more. Instead, it comes from my unyielding belief that we have been called as God’s partner in the ministry of justice and reconciliation. It is important for us as Christians to understand that waiting does not negate the call to action; we can never be numb to the problems of this world even if Advent calls us to a time of waiting.

In the book of Amos the prophet angrily admonishes the Israelites for their penchant to over-ritualize their faith. God hates that they have chosen to focus so completely on rituals while simultaneously oppressing those who are innocent. Without an ethic of justice and actions to back up their offerings, the gifts become an affront to God.

We must ask ourselves if we too are guilty of such self-serving practices. Have we been numbed by this persistent call to wait? Do we wait on God to fix the day because we cannot be bothered to act as God’s partner? Our call to be followers of Christ does not allow us to sit idly by and wait for better days. Our commitment to follow Christ compels us to understand that a world “where justice rolls on like a river and righteousness like a never ending stream” will never come if we do not act. We must commit ourselves daily to be co-workers of Christ, not only praying for a new world in which our swords are turned into plowshares, and every person is given access to basic human rights, but doing our part to make it come faster. As we enter this Advent season I pray that you will join me in committing ourselves to be the change we seek. The change we so desperately need. With God’s help, I know it is possible.

An Attitude of Gratitude

a reflection by the Rev. Nancy Christensen
Southeastern Synod Director for Evangelical Mission

I remember about ten years ago or so, there were books and journals and all kinds of attention on talk shows about gratitude, and it felt to me like the latest-and-greatest self-help craze. I confess that I didn’t pay much attention. While I didn’t object to the sentiment of being grateful at all, I didn’t buy the books, or jump in to the daily list-making that people around me were doing with such gusto.

So, as tends to be my pattern – ten years later, when no one is talking about it anymore, I’m just now getting around to thinking about what it really means to be grateful.

Henri Nouwen talks about gratitude as a spiritual discipline that involves a conscious choice. He says we can choose to be grateful even in the midst of hurt, and painful loss. In a book called, With Burning Hearts: A Meditation on the Eucharistic Life, Nouwen says,

"The question is whether our losses lead to resentment or to gratitude. Resentment is a real option. Many choose it. When we are hit with one loss after another, it is very easy to become disillusioned, angry, bitter, and increasingly resentful. The older we become, or the harder our circumstances, the greater is the temptation to say: 'Life has cheated me. There is no future for me, nothing to hope for. The only thing to do is to defend the little I have left, so that I won't lose it all.' "

In the midst of loss, sometimes, gratitude can be a catalyst for change in us. Seeing what’s good in our experience can help us shift our focus and move us beyond our resentment or our disappointment.

As I anticipate this week of Thanksgiving with family and friends, I also think that gratitude goes beyond being thankful for the temporary things, or about pushing away the negative stuff. When my feelings of gratitude are conditional on things, like my possessions, or my job, or my relationships, then my patterns of behavior don’t change. I may be thankful for a time, but then I almost always go right back to thinking and feeling in the same old ways. But when I root my gratitude in something permanent, it becomes a permanent part of me. So, instead of saying, “I am grateful for…” eventually I just say, “I am grateful.”

It’s an attitude for life, and for living – it’s a way of being. And, the permanent basis for my gratitude must ultimately be my faith in a God of abundance, who continuously creates, and re-creates – who blesses my life over and over – and who transforms even the negative circumstances, and the losses I face into opportunities for something new to emerge.

So, I think that right now it’s more important than ever to dig deep, and to live gratefully. We look for the blessings, and we don’t hold back from sharing them with one another. We also don’t apologize for challenging our brothers and sisters to be grateful, too, and to be generous in such a difficult moment in our history – because we KNOW that we are part of something greater than this moment, or these circumstances. We are confident in that permanent thing that never fails us, and that always brings us to new life.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Sunrises and Sunsets

by Assistant to the Bishop Darrel Peterson

I have always been fascinated by sunrises and sunsets, with a preference for sunrises, in that I tend to be a morning person. What a beautiful sight to see that golden disk edge onto the horizon in the cool of the morning! In my Colorado years, I traveled Eastward on the East side of Denver to get to my church. I enjoyed celebrating many sunrises as the days began. In my present call to ministry, I am often on the way early on Sunday mornings. The roads are clear and the sun comes up in all its magnificence.

Traveling transatlantic by air provides another sunrise opportunity. I will always remember seeing the sun come up over Africa as we crossed the skeleton coast of Namibia. Being at the beach on the Atlantic coast at various resorts has afforded me many peaceful and joyful moments.

This is not to denigrate sunsets. The clouds from the daytime are often situated to accentuate the colors at sunset. Key West and the gulf coast of Florida celebrate their sunsets. People gather to watch and take yet another sunset picture. I recently did a wedding on the beach North of Naples. The sunset was spectacular, and the photographer made the most of it. Again, my Colorado experiences afforded my enjoying the sun setting in so many different ways over the angular mountains to the West.

Sunrises and sunsets are symbols for our beginnings and endings. As the sun rises, we are reminded of new beginnings. In our Christian theology, we can celebrate God’s grace that is new each morning and God’s forgiveness that provides for yet another fresh start. We often hesitate as things change. Old patterns and habits persist. But with each new day, we can be reminded how important it is to have persistent newness. New beginnings come whether we are ready or not.

Politicians talk of sunset provisions. By such laws they allow programs and decisions to expire. In the church we often have problems with sunset thinking. We have a hopeful theology of dying and death. But we are wont to resist the end of organizations and traditions. This past summer, I was privileged to visit some of the New Testament sites such as Ephesus and Laodicea. There were ruins, to be sure, but there were no evangelism committees or congregation councils. The actual ministry in those places has long since ceased. The active ministry of those places now exists in the lives and ministries of us who read the New Testament.

We have many churches whose existence is being threatened by community change, division of the parishioners, the absence of the next generation, and the devastating economy. We need to be reminded we are called to be disciples, not perpetuators of institutions. Some of our churches need to say “mission completed” and to celebrate the sunset of ministry of past days.

We desperately need to see the sun coming up on new opportunities for mission. We don’t need to spend our efforts and resources on purifying our religious comfort levels and our galvanized prejudices. We have far too many people coming to church to get their opinions and lifestyles blessed. We need to hear God’s word with the clean slate of the morning sun, and we need to each day receive God’s grace and forgiveness. And we need to allow many of the day’s activities to end with the setting of the sun.

How cheap are you?

by the Rev. Dr. Delmer Chilton

In the November 2, 2010 edition of the Christian Century magazine it was reported that, "Three marketing researchers have concluded that the less religious one is, the more commercial brand names matter. . . .For people who aren't religious, visible markers of commercial brands, such as logos on a laptop or shirt pocket, function as a means of self-expression and an assertion of self-worth comparable to the symbolic expression of faith." (p.9)

Gee, by that measure I must be one of the most religious people on the planet. All my brands are "off-off-brands." I well remember the hot and muggy June day I moved into an apartment at Lutheran Southern Seminary in Columbia, SC. One of our current cluster deans (you know who you are) offered me a beer after helping me lug furniture for several hours. I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth, but it was awful. The beer's only redeeming factor was it was really cold. My new friend looked at my face and laughed and said, "One thing I learned in the military. Buy the cheapest beer in town and learn to like it." Sounded like a good idea to me.

I never really thought of my parsimony as being religiously related; I just thought I was raised poor and my Scots heritage dictated a certain amount of cheapness as a natural born right. My father was still wearing suits in the 1970s that he bought in the 1940s but as he repeatedly told my mother, "It's a good suit and it still fits. What's the problem?" Dad died in 2003; I wish I could have told him before he died that his frugality was a sign of his faithfulness, a fact that would have surprised his Methodist minister who always suspected Daddy of being less than completely orthodox, and not without reason.

The statistics on this are indeed interesting but I am not certain that the researchers' conclusions are as, well, as conclusive, as they seem to think. That is, they focus on why the non-religious seek brand names; I am more interested in why the religious eschew them.

It all depends on how you define the norm and the resultant measureable deviation (I knew that sociology degree would come in handy sometime.) If the norm is disinterest in brand names, then you propose answers as to why people want them. But, if wanting brand names is the human norm, then the question is "Why are there people who don't?"

I think the human norm is to seek validation of our existence. We look for things that make us feel important and secure in the world. As Luther said in the Large Catechism: "A 'god' is the term for that to which we are to look for all good and in which we are to find refuge in all need....Anything on which your heart relies and depends, I say, that is really your God." (Book of Concord, Kolb and Wengert Edition, p. 386)

Those of us who are baptized into Christ have been "marked with the cross of Christ forever" (ELW, p. 231, LBW, p. 124) and have no need of other visible marks of distinction or "self-expression." Because of our Baptism, we know who we are and whose we are and we are free to live simply and generously as beloved children of a gracious God.

Delmer Chilton

Butterflies

by Rachel Alley, Southeastern Synod Director for Youth Ministries

Butterflies have always fascinated me. Many of you know I keep on talking about getting a tattoo of a butterfly on my big toe. (which is the ugliest of all my toes) After the Alassippi Youth Gathering this summer, the youth and adults from Ascension Lutheran in Mississippi asked me to go get henna tattoos with them in Gulf Shores. Or course I said yes! And at first I was going to just watch but guess what? I got a butterfly henna tattoo right on my big toe! I really liked it for the 3 weeks I had it until it wore off.


You see, I have always connected with the story of the butterfly, starting out as this little tiny egg, eating its way to a larvae and then caterpillar (which are usually ugly like my toe), hiding itself in a cocoon over the winter and then struggling really hard to get out from a tiny little opening, but when the butterfly finishes its struggles, it enters the world as a butterfly ready to pollinate flowers and flutter around. I just feel happy watching them and I especially love the story of transformation. As soon as we moved into our home in South Georgia I planted lantanas and milkweed because I knew they attracted butterflies.


Two weeks ago, I sat with a father at a baseball game who told me the story of another young baseball player he knew. This young man was a freshman in college who was living his dream of playing baseball in college, he had made good grades in high school, had a beautiful girlfriend. Life was good. Yet, no one knew he was struggling with his grades at college this fall, his girlfriend had broken up with him, he and his roommate didn’t get along, and he was getting bullied by some of his teammates. He took his life not being able to handle it anymore.


Every day the news is full of stories of cyberbullying on facebook or other social websites because one person doesn’t like another. Our students are faced each year with friends or even themselves with committing suicide, not fitting in, questions of identity, eating disorders, cutting, drugs, pregnancy, drinking, and fast driving to get a thrill and take away the pain, stress of picking a college, knowing what they want to do with the rest of their life, and most recently worries over money and will there even be a job for them after they finish college.


As people who believe in Jesus, who loved us enough to die for us and saved us from our sins and has said, I am with you always even until the end and has told us to Love our Neighbor. We have got to step up and start telling the story of the transformation of the butterfly and telling people we love them and Jesus loves them. That the struggles like in the cocoon make us stronger. That Jesus is with us during all those difficult times and he says I love you no matter who you are and what you are going through. That there is a church community near you who cares about you and will walk with you during the difficult days. When do we step up, say I love you because Jesus loved me, and become Butterfly People? I found this children’s story/sermon on a website I visit often and wanted to share it with you. I don’t know who wrote it. Maybe you’ve seen it on the web too. I wish I could honor the author because it is a wonderful story.



Butterfly People



One day I was picking up a few things at the supermarket. The paper butterfly fluttered past the shelves of potato chips and cookies and came to rest on my arm. (put butterfly on arm). It is not often that I am approached in the supermarket by a crudely shaped paper butterfly. I looked down and discovered that the paper butterfly was piloted by a small child. There beside my shopping cart stood a three-year-old girl, pinching her homemade butterfly and looking up into my quizzical eyes. I grinned and said “Hi!” This little pixie made one more swooping motion with her butterfly, and again looked up at me, and chirped, “I love you.” That made my day. I crouched down and said, “I love you, too.” She beamed with bubbly joy, turned and scampered down the aisle, her paper butterfly soaring beside her. My day had been brightened by one of the Butterfly People.



We’ve all probably seen little kids do such things. They seem so free. To them it’s no big deal to skip up to a stranger and blurt, “I love you.” Somehow, it seems so natural to them. My response to the little girl was probably pretty common for her. She’s no doubt accustomed to running up to her mom and dad and brother and sister and grandparents and saying, “I love you.” And they, in return, are accustomed to hugging the little girl and saying, I love you, too.” She feels free to give her love. It’s part of her young life.



But I worry about her. I’m afraid she’ll follow all the rest of us. There comes that time in our lives when our “I love you” gift isn’t exactly warmly received. At age four or five or six we may approach a little friend and utter our favorite line, “I love you.” And on that fateful day the little friend says something like, “oh shut up. Your breath smells like your daddy’s shoes.” At that moment we learn a most unfortunate lesson. We learn that love is risky business. After several more painful reactions to our “I love you” approaches, we learn to carefully weight the risks involved before offering our love so freely. Consequently, those around us hear “I love you” less and less. Our beautiful paper butterflies have become crumpled. (crumple one wing).” They’re no longer free to make graceful, soaring flights through supermarkets and other places. Now we are even afraid to risk flying our butterflies around those very people who used to hug us and respond with “I love you, too.” The crumpled butterfly syndrome holds us back.



But what do our moms and dads and brothers and sisters think of us? Do they ever sit and wonder whatever happened to the butterfly spirit within us? I’m sure they remember those beckoning eyes and that squeaky “I love you.” Do they suspect that we have stopped loving them? How long has it been since our moms and dads and brothers and sisters have heard us say to them, “I love you”? It’s that crumpled butterfly that holds us back. Too many ties we’ve reached out to another person, only to be ignored, or misunderstood, or laughed at. It hurts too much when others don’t respond warmly to our love. To soar with the butterfly is risky.



To be one of the Butterfly People, we must give 100% of our love. We must take the risk that our love might be rejected. To that lonely new kid in the group, the butterfly within us asks us to reach out and risk our love. To that hard-to-love person at school, the butterfly asks us to risk our love. To that ex-friend who we’ve said we “hate”, to the old lady at the rest home, to that bratty little brother, to that tired dad or mom, the butterfly asks us to risk our love-100%. It’s a natural reaction to guard our feelings, to be cautious about the risks in giving 100%. But the butterfly asks us to look beyond the risk. God calls us to be His Butterfly People. Jesus said, “if you love me feed my sheep.”



It’s not enough to simple call ourselves Christians. We are challenged to “live dangerously”- to take the risks of the Butterfly People. Jesus said, “If you love only the people who love you, why should you receive a blessing? Even sinners love those who love them! And if you do good only to those who do good to you, why should you receive a blessing? Even sinners do that! And if you lend only to those from whom you hope to get it back, why should you receive a blessing? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount! No! Love your enemies and do good to them, lend and expect nothing back, and your reward will be great” (Luke 6:32-35). Jesus is our glittering example of the Butterfly People. He reached out and risked with 100% of His love. And sure enough, there were people around to curse, to laugh at Him, to ridicule Him, to hurt Him, to shout for His death, to nail him to a cross. (crumple both wings). But, Jesus knew that His actions and His love did not depend on how His love and actions were received. Jesus remained vulnerable. He was the original Butterfly Person. But that’s not the end of the story. (begin smoothing out the butterfly). He won in the end-just like all true butterflies. At Easter’s dawn, He arose from His temporary cocoon and spread His wings in glorious color. The world would never be the same. And he invites us to join him in His great metamorphosis. He dares us to be His Butterfly People. You are the Butterfly People! And I must tell you...I...Love...You!!

Staying Connected

by the Rev. Darrel Peterson

Remember the days when if we were in an airport, we would call our friends from a pay phone? I even remember growing up and seeing in our local newspaper that someone had received a telegram or a long distance phone call. It usually was a message that some relative or friend had died.

We now live in an age where we are incredibly connected. Cell phones, Blackberries, Facebook, Twitter, email, even traditional voicemail make it possible for us to keep in close contact around the clock and around the world. After our recent synod Leaders’ Convocation, I mentioned to a pastor who had not attended that Dr. Susan McArver had made some excellent presentations. The pastor responded, “I know - 'So-and-so' was tweeting me during the presentations.”

Some months ago, trendy 88 year old actress Betty White appeared on Saturday Night Live, largely because of popular demand on Facebook. In her opening monologue, Betty thanked Facebook, even though she admitted she didn’t know what it was until recently. Now that she knows what it is, she quipped, “It sounds like a huge waste of time.”

Those of us on the staff of the Southeastern Synod are very aware of the challenges of staying connected with our colleagues and congregations across our four-state synod. We are reminded that we really only have two annual gatherings for colleagues, the synod assembly and the leaders’ convocation. Thankfully, it is convenient to pick up the phone or to send an email. Most everyone agrees how important it is to have valued face to face visits from time to time. Yet we are acutely aware of comments like, “I didn’t know that was happening” or “Is Pastor 'So-and-so' still serving St John’s by the Lake? I haven’t seen him for years.”

Even though we have new tools to be relational, it requires intentional effort to stay connected with one another. For our work in being the contemporary “Book of Acts”, we need both the epistles and the missionary visits. We need to make the efforts to attend the Dean Cluster meetings. We need to check in with our brother and sister pastors. We need to crawl out of our “silos” and work collaboratively with one another, for the sake of the gospel and the Lord’s ministry. We need the support of one another.

Having said what I have, I do believe that our coming together around word and sacrament at worship is our primary connectedness. I can’t envision virtual sacramental elements. But the other connectedness as a church: We need to work at it. The Lord’s ministry depends on it!

WEDNESDAY at Convocation

We began Wednesday (well, at least some of us) with Morning Prayer down by the lake. With a chill in the air and the sun beginning to peek above the trees, we sang and prayed and listened to Nancy Christensen preach on brokenness and healing and the Pool of Siloam.

After breakfast we heard Dr. Susan McArver, Professor of Church History at Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary, on Being Lutheran in the South. Her presentation was a real eye-opener to many who had never heard the stories of the Danes in the West Indies and the Germans and Salzburgers in Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia and Tennessee.

Of particular interest, both in this morning lecture and in another in the evening, was Dr. McArver's ability to show connections between the controversies of the past and the tensions we face now in the ELCA.

There were a variety of workshops on Worship, the Book of Faith and from the Board of Pensions, and after lunch we took the afternoon off to play or sleep or sit on the porch and talk.

Pray for us as we finish our time together tomorrow morning and travel back from this holy mountain to our various places of mission and ministry. Pray that we, restored in body and soul, will arrive safely and will lead boldly throughout the coming year.

Photos of the Convo

Click here for photos of the convo.

Tuesday at Convocation

I know that I am prejudiced, being a native of these North Carolina mountains, but I think you'd be hard pressed to find a more beautiful time and place for a spiritual retreat than Lutheridge in October.

On Monday and Tuesday afternoons; First Call Theological Education participants, Spiritual Directors and the Cluster Deans held their respective meetings, gathering together for communion on and community Monday night.

Tuesday at 1:00 PM, the rest of the Rostered leaders arrived, beginning our time with worship in the chapel, accented by a powerful sermon the Rev. Jim Arends, bishop of our Companion Synod in Wisconsin (and a little bit of Minnesota.), the Lacrosse Synod.

In the afternoon, we heard from a representative of Bread for the World, from the Deaconess community in the ELCA (and the ELC in Canada) and from the Lutheran Volunteer Corps, which now has a presence in Atlanta, including in our Synod office.

Our keynote Presenter was retired Pastor Robert Graetz. Pastor Graetz was the white pastor of an African-American Lutheran church in Montgomery, Alabama during the Montgomery bus Boycott. He and his wife Jean were participants in the boycott and were active in civil rights issues throughout their long career in the church.

Bishop Gordy followed this with a presentation on the state of the church and the synod; a presentation that was punctuated by a prayer from Haiti:

"LORD, there is a big, ugly devil loose in the land named DISCOURAGEMENT. LORD, send him a way! AMEN

After dinner, the Bishop orchestrated a musical chairs "café conversation," exercise using a variety of questions and requiring participants to change places from table to table. We talked about the state of our souls, our ministries and congregations, the past present and future of the nation and the church.

As the evening drew to a close, we sang and prayed together and then went out into the night for rest and relaxation.

Convo pictures are now posted on Synod Website.

More of God’s Blessings

from Pastor Rick Mason, Christ Lutheran Church, Prattville, AL

My wife, Glenna, & I spent the 2nd week in September at Holden Village, a remote retreat center deep in the Cascade Mountains. This was a trip taken on faith, given current economic difficulties. But where God leads us, we will find blessings. And this trip was no exception.

On the flight to Seattle on Saturday, I was seated next to a young mother & her 4-month-old child, Jack. Her husband & other 2 sons were across the aisle; so when she needed some assistance early in the flight, I offered to hold the baby. I held little Jack for about half the flight; & eventually, his 4-year-old brother joined in on our fun. Glenna & I were able to hone our grandparenting skills while supplying some time of relaxation for two harried parents.

When our final flight landed in Wenatchee WA that evening, we had no idea how we would get from the airport to the bus station for the final bus to Chelan. As I waited for the luggage, Glenna went in search for a taxi &/or directions. Instead, she found 2 men waiting at an airline counter to pick up a piece of “lost” luggage from the previous day. When they found out where we were going, they insisted that we ride with them to Chelan, taking us directly to our hotel.

On the 40-minute ride to Chelan, the driver told us of his volunteer work in Guatemala with Rotary. He mentioned a book that had inspired him to become active in third-world outreach— Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson. Upon our arrival at Holden the next day, we found out that one of our chalet-mates was Jerene Mortenson, Greg’s mother, who was at Holden to talk about the book & her son’s experiences building schools in remotest Pakistan.

On the boat trip up the lake to the Holden drop-off, I reunited with Chuck Kluth, a close friend & classmate from Augustana College (class of ‘71). I knew Chuck was coming to Holden as staff that week to lecture in his field of expertise—geology. Needless to say, we spent many hours catching up & reveling in our shared past.

But then, at worship that Sunday night, Glenna & I were totally shocked when friends from South Carolina walked up & Shared the Peace with us. Jeff Lingle is pastor of a Lutheran church in Rock Hill SC & was my unofficial evangelism mentor during my initial years of ministry. He also served as mine & Glenna’s pastor when we encountered struggles, such as my father’s death in 1998.

God blessed Glenna & me amazingly during those 7 days to Holden & back. The above are simply the very top “high points” of the blessings. There were so many more people & events that were far beyond the ordinary! The thing for all of us to remember is that none of the blessings would have been ours had we not reached out in faith—answering God’s call to spend money we really couldn’t spare to lead a Bible study that someone else could have led. God has blessings tenfold awaiting all of us when we venture beyond our comfort zones, following where He leads!

A Message from the Next Generation

by the Rev. Nancy Christensen, Mission Director, ELCA Southeastern Synod

“Let’s face it: the synod e-news is largely irrelevant. The items posted are mostly ‘fluff,’ and no one reads it anyway.”

This statement was made by a young adult at a recent synod gathering, and my immediate response was, “Yikes.” Is this how people really feel about the communications they receive from our synod office? Are the subscribers to this network wishing for more substance, or for different kinds of information? Are they pushing the “delete” button, rather than reading what is posted? Are blogs (like the one I’m writing now) just a waste of everyone’s time?

It’s easy to feel defensive, as one of the people who regularly provide news and information to these weekly issues. I think I can speak for the whole staff when I say we try hard to use this vehicle to communicate clearly, and often, about those items that we hope are relevant to folks. We also seek out information from countless people throughout the synod, inviting congregations to send material that can be shared, and asking individuals and agencies to contribute items as well.

We do not have a professional marketing and communications department, but we do our best, and we would love to have more contributors! So, it’s easy to feel defensive.

But, I’ve decided to let down my defenses to think about what else might have been behind this statement that would be helpful for me, and for all of us to hear. And, I’ll start with the obvious: the speaker was a young adult.

I am part of the baby boom generation, with four “20-somethings” in my own family. I can’t pretend to completely understand a young adult mindset, and I would not want to make too many generalizations about any section of the population, anyway. But I do notice from the few young adults that reside around me that there is apathy, cynicism, and suspicion about most things “religious.” It’s not a lack of interest in spiritual practice – I sense they all long for real depth and meaning in their lives, and even seek it out – but, rather, it’s a disconnect with the institution of the church that feels “largely irrelevant” to them.

Okay, so that’s no real surprise, right? I remember feeling the same way when I was younger, and I suspect we’ve all gone through this at one time or another. But, I’m not willing to simply dismiss these sentiments as being a “phase” of young adulthood. Mission developers who are intentionally engaging with their communities are reporting that more and more people, of many ages, are expressing this same feeling – that the church doesn’t really matter, to them, or to the world.

So, how can we address these issues and take these perceptions seriously? It begins, I think, with a willingness to let go of some things (even though “we’ve always done it that way”) and to genuinely discern God’s vision, and God’s mission for our church in this time, and in the particular contexts of our lives. It begins with intentionally including new voices in our conversations about ministry: inviting young adults to participate in worship planning, for example, or listening to the real needs of our neighborhoods so that we might reflect those needs in our programs and services, or empowering new leaders to serve and to make decisions in new ways. It begins when we offer authentic opportunities for the development of true discipleship, going deeper than we’ve ever gone before.

It’s not easy, but it’s important work that asks us to be open, inclusive, and faithful as people of God. We can’t allow ourselves to be defensive and dismissive; we must be genuine and realistic about who we are called to be, and to become.

And, as far as our e-news is concerned… well, we have to be constantly challenging ourselves in that, too, and to be making improvements as we go forward. We must always seek to communicate as effectively as possible, and to evaluate both the style and the content for its relevance to all.

I can tell you without any hesitation that anyone who wants to help or who has material to share will be WELCOMED! Please don’t hesitate to contribute your gifts, and to make your voice heard… resist the urge to push “delete” and opt, instead, to work for positive results!

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism? by Michael lippard

Luke 14:25-33 Michael Lippard


A recent study of faith and young people in the United States claims that a new religion is growing in American congregations. The study calls this alternative faith Moralistic Therapeutic Deism, or MTD. Two of MTD’s central beliefs are: “God wants people to be good, nice and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions,” and “The central goal of life is to be happy and feel good about yourself.” The principal investigators for the study say that MTD “may be the new mainstream American religious faith for our culturally post-Christian, individualistic, mass-consumer capitalist society.”

The warm words and soft textures of MTD are appealing, especially in an age when so much venom is spewed in the name of religion. Might MTD eventually delineate new theological boundaries for a less conflicted future, for a rose garden where all faith traditions can coexist peacefully?

Even among post-Christian Christians themselves, maybe not: there are times when Jesus stubbornly refuses to go along with such a program. In Luke 14:25-33, his words are disturbingly cold and sharp. Jesus has extremely high expectations of those who would be his disciples. He issues a caveat emptor, a “let the buyer beware” warning. Before you jump on my bandwagon, he says, you need to stop and count the cost: you may not be willing to pay the price. The only parts of a rose garden Jesus seems to offer here are the thorns!

To follow him, he says you must “hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes and even life itself.” So forget about getting along with other faith traditions when you can’t even get along with your family. There’s nothing nice here. Ouch! To follow Jesus, you must “carry the cross.” Ouch again. At least this doesn’t sound quite as unappealing as hating your family. Certainly carrying a cross is not as terrible as being crucified on one, but you know what happened to Jesus after he carried his. Finally, Jesus says that if you would follow him you must “give up all your possessions.” Ouch, ouch, ouch! That sounds not only unappealing, but impossible. Jesus may not have had many possessions, but he did wear clothes; presumably, they belonged to him. Most Christians seem to find it next to impossible to tithe, to give ten percent of their income to the work of the church, so I think it’s safe to assume that none of us will be giving up all our possessions - at least not until death rips them out of our clutches.

Yet even though there’s no way we can follow the program Jesus describes, more than likely, we consider ourselves to be Jesus’ followers. We follow as best we can, sometimes hesitantly and always imperfectly, because we trust Jesus. We also trust the witness of the gospels, the witness of our families and friends, and the witness of the church through history. We might prefer a rose garden religion of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism; but we know such a faith is not real, nor will it stand up to the tests of real life. So we have to wrestle with Jesus’ words, even when they make us uncomfortable. What is going on in this gospel of thorns? Jesus grew up as a good Jewish boy. He knew the Ten Commandments. One of them commands us to honor our father and mother. How can anybody honor their parents and hate them at the same time? That doesn’t make sense.

First of all, we need to recognize that the issue addressed is not family living, but discipleship. The text is not about hating anyone or anything. You may say you hate spinach, and I may say I love it, but we both probably realize that neither of us has feelings that are quite that strong about a green, leafy vegetable. We are exaggerating to make a point about our preference for a particular food. Luke is also exaggerating to make a point about the demands of discipleship.

Also, in the Bible, hate doesn’t always carry the sense of enmity, animosity and hostility that we associate with it. This is not a call to hatred in an emotional or “psychological sense... Those who become disciples of Jesus must be committed exclusively to Him; they cannot be bound to anyone or anything else. The term ‘hate’ demands the separation of the disciple...” Even so, this is small comfort. Again, Jesus is saying that the cost of following him is extremely high, and we would be wise to consider the cost before we sign on for his mission. The cost of being Christian is discipleship.

The word Christian shows up in the New Testament only three times. The word disciple appears two hundred and sixty-nine times, nearly ninety times as often. Have you ever heard anyone talk about going ninety to nothing? When people say that, it seems to mean they are really on the move, getting things done, busily and earnestly working toward a goal. A ratio of ninety to one is about the same. In the context of the New Testament as a whole and this text in Luke, it would mean that if you want to be a Christian, you need to invest your energy in being a disciple, in being a follower of Jesus. The whole point of being Christian is being a disciple, and that’s a full-time job.

Jesus has more hard words about hate. He says we cannot be his disciples without hating life itself. The word Luke chooses for life is not the Greek word zoe, from which we get our words zoo and zoology. Instead, Luke uses the word psuchae, from which we get words like psyche, psychiatry, psychology and psychotherapy. Psuchae means self, inner life, or soul. That makes Jesus’ words here even more difficult. He is talking about hating or separating from our inner life, our inner self, our soul. The inner life from which Jesus calls us to separate is the one which seeks to find happiness, peace and security in our possessions instead of in following him. Living in relationship with Jesus changes our way of relating to our possessions, and our way of relating to other people, too.

This is a point Dietrich Bonhoeffer makes in The Cost of Discipleship: “the call of Christ brings us as individuals face to face with the Mediator... Between father and son, husband and wife, the individual and the nation, stands Christ the Mediator, whether they are able to recognize him or not. We cannot establish direct contact outside ourselves except through him, through his word, and through our following him... There is no way from one person to another. However loving and sympathetic we try to be, however sound our psychology, however frank and open our behavior, we cannot penetrate the incognito of the other..., for there are no direct relationships, not even between soul and soul. Christ stands between us, and we can only get into touch with our neighbors through him.”

The host at a fancy children’s party walked over to a girl and said: “I believe your little brother is a bit shy. He hasn’t moved from that corner all afternoon.” The girl answered: “He isn’t shy at all. This is the first time he’s had to wear a tie to a party, and he thinks he’s tied to something.”

Luke confronts us with our attachments, with the things to which we think we are tied. Trying to fill our inner, spiritual poverty ourselves doesn’t work. Jesus calls us to accept our spiritual emptiness: that is the cross he wants us to carry. As we open our hands and hearts to his love and grace, we ourselves are released, freed from our desperate clutching for affection and esteem, for safety and security, for power and control. We discover the presence of Christ supporting us. Our weakness gives way to his strength. Without him, we have nothing; with him, we have everything. This is the source from which our inner life - our soul - is nurtured and refreshed. All good things come back to us transformed - family and life itself - through the mediation of the Christ.

FINDING JOY

The Rev. Dr. Beverly Wallace

This will be my last blog entry as Assistant to the Bishop for the Southeastern Synod. It has been at the pleasure of this synod and of God that I have been allowed to serve in this office since the death of my husband Richard Wallace. I would very much like to thank the Southeastern Synod for the space and care even as I offered my gifts and talents in service, first as the Assistant to the Bishop for Pastoral Care for the Katrina Recovery Effort and more recently as Assistant to the Bishop for Candidacy. It has now been five years since Richard’s death and it is a time for change and a time for me to move on. As I have told some folks, I believe God is in this movement because I believe God has other things for me to do. What they are, I am not certain of at this time.

I must admit that these last few months since the announcement was made at Synod Assembly that my position would be eliminated have not been easy for me. Many folks, perhaps not knowing what to say to me, have said nothing thus far. However, even during this period of uncertainty in my life, I have found joy.

What brought me joy was seeing the men and women who stood up at Synod Assembly to be recognized as soon-to-be ordained and rostered leaders in the Lutheran Church. I walked with most of these individuals through candidacy.

What has brought me joy is to see the age and ethnic diversity on the candidacy committee (there is still a need for a white male layperson). When I asked many of them to serve, they did not know that this time would come when they would be doing most of the work of shepherding, mentoring, and caring for those whom God has called to be leaders in this church.

I am still serving as the Interim Director of the Lutheran Theological Center in Atlanta half-time and I am loving every minute of it, and that brings me joy. I also have the opportunity to teach a Pastoral Care course this semester and that is bringing me joy. What has really bought me joy is to see five candidates sit in a class on Lutheranism in North America – three Korean women, one African man of Oromo background, and one European American man of Norwegian background – as they learn that the history of Lutheranism in North America is a history of immigrants who spoke and worshipped in their own languages; a history that has often been forgotten.

And it has been a joy working with many of the members of the Southeastern Synod and the synod staff. So, even as my position has been eliminated, I can still have joy.

When Bishop Gordy first introduced me to the 2008 Synod Assembly, he prefaced his intro by saying I am one who often raises the questions no one wants to answer. At other times, Bishop Gordy has reminded me that I cannot always be prophetic in this position. As an African American woman, I am called to be prophetic. It is part of my ethic. (I contributed a chapter in the book Transformative Lutheran Theologies – Feminist, Womanist, and Mujerista Perspectives (Fortress Press, 2010) entitled, “Hush No More! Constructing an African American Lutheran Womanist Ethic” where I write about a womanist ethic being prophetic).

I pray that in this position that I have made a difference. I also pray that not only will this church be a little bit different because of the questions that I have raised but also that this synod will be prophetic and not be afraid; raising the clarion, calling for justice, making justice issues a priority, and creating an environment in which all voices and perspectives can be honored and understood for the purpose of doing God’s mission.

So to the members of the Synod, I want to say thank you. It has been a pleasure serving you and serving with you. Indeed, I have found joy.

S D G Soli Deo Gloria

by Pastor Darrel Peterson, ELCA-Southeastern Synod Assistant to the Bishop

A vital message in our Lutheran legacy is the inscription that Johann Sebastian Bach wrote at the end of his music, S D G Soli Deo Gloria (to God alone, the glory). Church musicians will still sometimes include that familiar and profound message at the end of their work. And as I see those three little words, I am grateful that my high school Latin has again been put to good use!

As I make my way among congregations and church leaders these days, it often occurs to me that we are seriously lacking in the perspective that what we are doing in the faith is ultimately about God. There are long discussions about planning and facilitating. Who is in charge of this? How do we want this to be done? Will the people turn out for that? Who will get credit?

Recently in an interview with a pastor considering a congregational transition ministry, I emphasized the importance of asking questions of the people, “Now why is it we are doing this?” and “Where is God leading in this process?” The pastor paused, and said, “It’s refreshing to hear that it is still ‘about God’.”

We all know we live in a “me centered” culture. We want to hear what we agree with. People are likely to go from church to church to find one that shares their personal views and prejudges. Pastors are sometimes caught in the trap of keeping silent to avoid offending. Folks are looking to have their life-styles “blessed”.

So, I suppose the prophetic is out of vogue. Jeremiah “is a bullfrog” will preach, but “Thus says the Lord” may not. Way back in the hootenanny days, John Ylvisaker sang a song making social commentary, with the final line, “And that’s the thing I don’t like about Jesus”. There is a lot of politically correct and “making nice” going on. Do we leave church to go home to hear the real truth from our conservative or liberal politicos and pundits.

And then there is the tension and acrimony in the Lutheran family related to the sexuality issue. “This is the last straw!” “I think it’s time to vote and leave the church”. And some will say, “It’s not really about sex, the church is leaving us with all their liberal decisions”.

So, where is God in all of this? Are we worshiping God, or are we proceeding to socially and politically straddle the middle of the road? When the stories of Jesus are read and reflected on, does his grace and mercy settle on us anew? Are we willing to openly discuss and pray that God will lead? Are we committed to hear the call to love God and and to love our neighbor?

I believe we need to focus on someone that is larger than all the “me’s” out there. Let our worship , whatever it’s style, be genuine. Let us be as open vessels. Let us know that it is about God!

Soli Deo Gloria,
Pastor Darrel Peterson
Assistant to the Bishop

What is the church?

by the Rev. Dr. Delmer Chilton, Assistant to the Bishop of the Southeastern Synod

I was first confronted with this question not in a seminary lecture hall but in a cramped Sunday School room in a tiny Methodist Church in rural North Carolina. I was serving as the "student pastor" of a three church "yoked parish," while attending Duke Divinity School. A young man who had recently graduated from college and come back to the community to teach High School was saying "If we were a real church we would have . . ." At that point I stopped listening. What does he mean "A real church? Of course we're a real church," I fumed.

But I knew what he meant. He meant a "full service" church; one with nursery and youth group and robed choir and men's breakfast and a large fellowship hall and a gymnasium and . . . . , well you can fill in the blanks.

When I got home that night, I went into the church office (which was also our spare bedroom) and I sat down at my desk and pulled down some theology books to help me think about this question, "What is the church?" What do we have to have or be or do to "really" BE the Church of Jesus Christ.

Well, Article 13 of the Methodist Articles of Religion says, the church is where "the pure Word of God is preached and the sacraments duly administered," exactly the same thing the 39 Articles of the Church of England says, which is not surprising since the Methodist Church began within the Anglican Church. And if this sounds familiar, it should, since the framers of the 39 Articles were deeply influenced by the Lutheran movement's Augsburg Confession, which in Article VII says the church is "the assembly of the saints in which the Gospel is purely preached and the sacraments are administered rightly."

Up until that night I probably agreed with that young man that my churches weren't "real churches," not that I would have said it out loud, or used those words to talk about it. But, no matter how I said it, the implication would have been that they were less than they should have been; that they were inadequate and faulty for not being and doing everything that bigger and more moneyed congregations were and did.

I thought of that night and that new understanding this last Sunday as I preached at Crowell's Chapel near Shelbyville, TN. Crowell's was founded in 1825 and in the 185 years since has never been real big.

But it has always been faithful to its primary task: preaching the Gospel and administering the Sacraments. Through wars and droughts and economic turmoil, it has sometimes prospered and sometimes suffered but it has always served. Rooted in a people and a place, it is a continuing presence of the Body of Christ for those around it.

This is what all churches, from the smallest to the largest are called to be and do. It does not matter how big your building is or how active your programs are, if Gospel and sacraments are not at your core, at your center, you are not the church. And it doesn't matter how modest your facility or how sparse your crowds; if Christ is being presented, then Christ is present and you are the Church in that place. Thank you, Crowell's Chapel, for your many years of service and for reminding me of this basic truth.

Marked with the Cross of Christ

by the Rev. Nancy Christensen, Southeastern Synod Director for Evangelical Mission

Several weeks ago, while in Minneapolis for a conference, I visited a Somali Market and encountered a group of women who were preparing to go to a wedding that same day. They had come to have their bodies decorated with henna, and they had gathered at the market as a group, to share the experience with one another.

Worn like jewelry, henna adorns hands, arms, feet, legs, even necks and faces for special celebrations and events. It was fascinating to watch, as true artists freehanded the application of the dye in incredible shapes and patterns; and those of us who had gathered around them found ourselves drawn in – inspired, and fully welcomed into this community of beautiful women of all ages.

When we walked away a little while later, we carried with us a connection we had not had before; and a few of us also carried a visible sign of our time with these women. We got henna-ed! My design was of flowers and curly lines that covered my right hand, and went a little ways up my right arm. It lasted about two weeks, and it drew many responses from family and friends, and strangers alike.

My husband rolled his eyes, and my children laughed. The bishop said he wasn’t the least bit surprised. The people in the congregations I visited generally looked at me sideways, not sure whether they should ask me about it, or whether they approved of it, or not. Other women, in elevators, and stores, and even at the gas station, would come right up to me and comment about how beautiful it was, or ask me where I had it done, and another new connection was formed. In both good and bad ways, the henna art on my arm definitely elicited reactions – I can only imagine how it must be for folks with permanent tattoos!

And, it has occurred to me to wonder how our lives might be drastically altered if the mark of our baptism were as blatantly obvious to the world as a tattoo – literally written on our foreheads. I suspect the reactions would be both positive and negative. There might be curiosity or approval, anger or judgment – possibly even abuse. There also might be more opportunities for conversations to happen, and for connections to be made. Relationships might be forged, and lives might be changed.

So, what is stopping us from wearing our faith for all to see? What will it take for us to risk putting ourselves out there – to claim our baptism, and to engage differently with one another? We pray for unity, for peace, and for God’s grace to be made real in our world. Perhaps it starts when we step outside of our comfort zones to welcome one another into community – to join in new conversations, and to cover ourselves with beauty that reaches beyond all that we have known before.

“What Is Your Calling Card?”

by the Rev. Dr. Beverly Wallace

Many students are returning back to school. Here on the campus of the Interdenominational Theological Center (where the Lutheran Theological Center in Atlanta is housed) seminarians have begun to register for classes that begin next week. Some of our young people who are going away to college and are on their own for the first time are trying to discern what will they be and do when they complete their education. And many of our very young kindergarten and first graders are too, as their teachers begin to get acquainted with their new students by asking the question, “So what do you want to be when you grow up?” Many of you remember the question and some of us yet today ask ourselves, "What am I going to be when I grow up?" As for me personally, I am still trying to figure that out.

The other day in a dinner meeting with individuals discussing the potential and possibilities for the Lutheran Theological Center, a woman suggested that there was a need for young people to have education about their direction in life and lamented the fact that the Lutherans didn’t talk very much about vocation. “Ah, but we do,” (or "We are supposed to,") I responded. And it is true.

In her article “The Work of a Christian" Kathryn Kleinhans points out that, from a Lutheran perspective, vocation is extremely important. Dr. Kleinhans notes that there is a clear explication in Luther’s understanding of vocation of the relationship between faith and work. Quoting from Luther’s treatise The Freedom of a Christian she writes, “The outer person has to do something and thus occupies itself with works both for the purpose of self-discipline and for the service for others. For Luther, the Christian’s vocation is grounded in baptismal identity. Reflecting on Jesus’ words, 'Apart from me, you can do nothing,' Luther insists, 'I adhere to the fact that I am baptized not to my life and my vocation but to the Man called Jesus Christ.'"

As Kleinhans says in her article, “today’s college students are told to expect at least five career changes (not just job changes) in their lifetime. To have one’s sense of worth dependent on success in a specific work situation or family status is a recipe for distress. Being rooted in Jesus as the vine and nourished with baptismal water provides a firm foundation for Christian identity, regardless of one’s calling and especially as callings change." So what is your calling card and what is your calling?

In my years in Minnesota as chaplain for Vocational Life, I would work with college students who were exploring their vocational calling, the relationship between what they believed they wanted to do and its connection to their faith. I would conduct exercises with them to help with this and I invite you to do the same and blog what you have discovered about you, your life, and your calling.

Take two index cards and craft business cards. On the first card, answer the question, “what do you do.” Take about ten minutes to create a business card to answer this question. On the second card, create a card to answer the question, “So, who are you?" Take another ten minutes or so to create a card in response to this. Then ask yourself the following questions, “Was it easier to make my Business Card or my I Am Card? Why do I think this is so? What did I learn about my vocation from this exercise?"

Next month, at the Lutheran Theological Center, a dinner and conversation will be held with Young Adult Women about their vocational call. I invite Young Adult Women who are interested in reflecting on their sense of who they are and what they are called to be and do to attend. As a limited number of slots are available for this dinner, please let me know as soon as possible if you want to come or if you know someone who else who is interested.

Recent Stewardship Gleanings that will Preach or Teach…

by Pastor Darrel Peterson, Assistant to the Bishop, Stewardship Specialist

Pastor Gary Langness tells about a time he was speaking about stewardship at a congregational leadership dinner. After his talk an elderly woman came up and said, “I’m from the Netherlands, and we have a saying there, ‘We give from the hand of God.’”

All we have are gifts given to us by an abundant and generous creator. God has big hands and generosity flows from those hands. They run over with abundant gifts for all people—no holding back, no sense of scarcity, no fear of giving too much. So when we give we do it with great joy and generosity because there is always more where it came from. It all comes from the hand of God.

Cheryl Chatman, at the recent Rethinking Stewardship conference in Minnesota, used some stewardship illustrations: “Would you mind participating in a quick exercise with me that I think provides a clear response in helping others see the value of stewardship? Please indulge me for just a few moments by following my brief instructions: Ok, please inhale for me. Breathe in. Continue to breathe in. Now hold it, hold it—ok, you can now breathe out. So the point I want to make is that stewardship is like breathing. If you continue to take things in (breathe in), and never give back (breathing out), you won’t live or survive.”

Gifts and Hands:
“A basketball in my hands is worth about $25. In LaBron James’ hands, it is worth millions. It depends on whose hands it is in.”
“A rod in my hands will keep away an angry dog. A rod in Moses’ hands will part the mighty sea. It depends on whose hands it is in.”
“A slingshot in my hands is a kid’s toy. A slingshot in David’s hands is a mighty weapon. It depends on whose hands it is in.”

In Giving Magazine, Rodger Nishioka has written an article entitled “Generation Next”. In the article, he says, “A consistent theme among young adults is their willingness to give time and money when they are sure it makes a difference.” He goes on to say that young adults have often been betrayed by institutions and are skeptical of traditional giving appeals. The key is communication. The reason for giving must be stated clearly and specifically. They request transparency and accountability. Some researchers say they may end up being more generous than their parents and even their grandparents.

Find out more at http://www.stewardshipresources.org/, an Ecumenical Stewardship Center.

INTERSTATE THEOLOGY, OR SOMETHING LIKE IT

As an Assistant to the Bishop I spend a lot of time on the road. Although my personal preference is the "scenic route," the pressures of time and distance dictate that I spend most of that time on the large network of interstates that crisscross our synod. Sometime during a marathon seven city, four state, 1500 mile road trip, I began thinking about the church and how it works. It was an alternative to saying things a man in a minister's collar shouldn't think, much less say.

One thing that I spent a long time thinking about was the "two lanes, three types of driver," problem. It is my opinion that there are three broad categories of interstate drivers: 1) Go as fast as you can, 2) go 5-10 miles over the speed limit, 3) speed limit or below. This is fine when there are three or more lanes. Slow to the right, fast to the left; everybody else in the middle. Traffic flows, people find their spot, things work. Now; put those three styles of driving on two lanes and let traffic get a little heavy, and; oh my! The really fast people are trying to share the left lane with the moderately fast people and getting frustrated; a "go the speed limit" driver thinks the right lane is for people going slower than the speed limit and moves left, or a "5-10 over" is trying to drive in the right lane to get out of the way of the "real speeders," and gets frustrated by the slowness of the "go the speed limit" people, and so it goes.

I will not identify my driving type, but I started thinking about how sometimes the church is like that; we have people with a lot of different "spiritual speeds," and we try to force them into two lanes, or worse, one lane. We try to make everyone think alike or grow spiritually in the same way and at the same speed and then we leaders tend to get frustrated when our envisioned "mighty army of God," marching forward with precision and purpose turns out to be a bit of a motley crew; a ragtag army at best.

Just as it is is sometimes difficult for us to accept other people's driving styles, (an editorial page quip in the Seattle Times noted, "Why is it that everyone who drives slower than me is an idiot and everyone who drives faster is a maniac?") it is also often hard for us to accept the spiritual, theological style of others. When people aren't at the same place we are, too many of us are way too quick to point fingers and call names. It is important for us to do all we can to give each other room to move within the faith, within the church.

The key to that is not only accepting others, but also accepting the fact that God is in charge and we are not. Too much effort on our part to control the outcome of today's theological battles is akin to the person who tries too hard to get the other drivers to drive the "right way." It's not going to happen. What one must do is drive as carefully and as politely as one can and trust things to unfold safely. The same is true for the church. We must all move through our church life as faithfully and as politely as we can, trusting that God is in control and others are doing their best to be faithful as well.

A Millisecond of Love
by the Rev. Nancy Christensen

“When we look on our lives and the world with a little keener awareness and deeper compassion, we see that amidst the suffering and confusion, the conflicts and attempts at escape, even a millisecond of love is a miracle.” Stephen Levine, from Healing into Life and Death

I read somewhere that the season after Pentecost is the time when we inhabit the resurrection and fulfill the Great Commission. So, I have been reflecting on the shape and scope of resurrection, both for myself, and for us as a church. I have been wondering about mission and ministry in the midst of so much fear and heartache all around, and I have been gradually discovering (again) that the essence of new life always comes in and through the gift of love.

So often, however, it is easier not to love – easier to blame, to isolate, to betray, or to despise those around us. The truth is – the world gives us plenty of reasons to be bitter and afraid. We are given no guarantees, and we are prone to feel and to inflict hurt – both within ourselves, and in our relationships with others.

“Even a millisecond of love is a miracle.” The slightest touch, the smallest gesture, the briefest “hello” – these things are amazing gifts that often go unnoticed or unappreciated. We have become so hardened and jaded that we trust only the big and obvious outpourings – the complete “cure” – the final PROOF that our lives have meaning – and we overlook the miraculous milliseconds of resurrection and joy.

A crooked smile on the face of a patient in ICU recovering from brain surgery… a small child’s laughter during the funeral of his grandmother… an email that says, “I’m thinking of you”…a $50 donation to mission (a drop in the bucket, that creates ripples)… THESE are all expressions of resurrection right here in our midst! These are the ways we experience hope and promise, and these are the things that shed a little light on our pathways to help us know God’s presence, even as we limp along and struggle to find meaning.

As simple as it sounds, my greatest prayer is that we will encounter the quiet unfolding of love all around us as the true gift of this green season – and that we will experience the gentle touch of our Savior, who walks beside us, and who reveals himself to us in both big and small ways, all the time.

Are You A Jonah?

by the Rev. Dr. Beverly Wallace

In reading the book of Isaiah, while the Jews were in exile, they were instructed by the spirit to move to a new arrangement. They were to move from oppression to liberation (see Isaiah 66,). They were told, "Don’t go back to conducting yourself in the way you were used to because it has not served you well."

There was a need to move to a different place, a different way of being and doing, worshipping and living; something that would serve the people, especially those who were disenfranchised in the existing arrangements. They were to move for a particular purpose, to again become the people God had destined them to be.

I’ve been reading a book entitled, “Liberating Jonah – Forming an Ethics of Reconciliation.” According to the author Miguel De La Torre, reconciliation is more than coming together, agreeing on a particular point, forgiving and moving on. Reconciliation is hard work. Reconciliation is becoming the people God has destined us to be. Reconciliation, La Torre writes, is manifested as love for God AND our neighbor. Estrangement among neighbors brings about separation from God and salvation can occur only if reconciliation has taken place. Reconciliation helps people become the people God has destined them to be.

Think about the story of Jonah—Jonah, the one who ran away when God told him to go to Ninavah; yes the one who was swallowed by a whale, that Jonah—he could be called the reluctant prophet. I can just hear Jonah cry or even singing the song that some of our kids hear on television advertisements during the holiday season, “I don’t wanna grow up, I want to be a Toy’s R Us kid." Jonah probably didn’t want to grow up, but as it is with life, as we are born, we are to mature, even if we don’t like it; even if it is one day at a time. For Jonah, he had to grow up and deal with some hard realities. Reality as it was was harsh and yet God called Jonah to be an agent of reconciliation. Reconciliation is not a political strategy but a process of spiritual healing. Reconciliation is about Salvation. Reconciliation, as defined by people on the margins, must be understood as a process of arriving at a new state of being; one perhaps that no one has ever experience before – focusing in on being something new.

In last Sunday’s lesson, we heard the words of Paul who wrote, “You who were once estranged and hostile in mind, he (Jesus) has now reconciled in his fleshly body through death.” Here we can see how NOT easy reconciliation is. It is through death that reconciliation comes. Something must die in order to create something new. It can be crazy-making, especially to get to the point of something more constructive, more beautiful.

So how do we reconcile? How do we make something new? Often times we think of reconciliation in terms of forgiveness. No, it is not simply about forgiveness. Forgiveness is part of reconciliation, but reconciliation is more than forgiveness. Reconciliation takes place when one moves to rectify the existing estrangement. Reconciliation takes place when one gives of oneself for the purpose of wanting new life for another and by extension for oneself. It is about working on the part of loving, truly loving God’s people even if it means losing one’s power and privilege. Reconciliation is what Jesus has done. And, reconciliation takes place when one remembers who they are and what is their purpose.

Again, when the Jews were in exile, they remained in captivity because they had lost their sense of God. They had forgotten who they where and whose they were. They had lost their purpose. They had gotten use to the way things were, their oppression, and stayed in captivity. But being reconciled, God’s people begin to understand their purpose.

So what is our purpose? I believe our purpose is to love God with all our might; to love our neighbors, to seek justice, act with mercy, and to walk humbly with our God. According to La Torre, knowing our purpose and working toward reconciliation leads to freedom. It frees those who need to be freed in ANY WAY to truly be free - especially free in the spirit. And it is about justice - work that is not easy.

We all have work to do regarding issues of justice. Yet it is not just those in power who are called to assist with the work of reconciliation. But as is the major theme of La Torre’s book, it is that those who are on the margins who are called to the formidable task of taking the first steps toward reconciliation, EVEN to those who will not listen. Reconciling all of God’s people and creating back to God is what we are called to do. Are we willing to be such a person? Are we willing to be a new person, a new creation? Are we willing to be a “Liberated Jonah”? Not easy – but I am!

The Old Guard, Blood and Water

by the Rev John W Beckman, Epiphany Lutheran Church, Conyers, GA

Dear Friends in Christ:

I have recently returned from my annual trip to the Midwest to visit my aging parents as well as a beloved 90-year-old aunt who lives alone in a 110-year-old farmhouse in rural Wisconsin. The trip is counted as part of my vacation but I am hard pressed to know how to answer when folks ask me about it.

My sister Sara comes from California to meet up with me. We coordinate this in order to make the most of the time and share the cost of travel. We also know that we cannot make this trip alone. We need each other. It is a time of re-union. It is also a time of grief. It is so very hard to see one’s parent’s age. The hands that once held ours have changed. The eyes that once looked both ways for us at intersections have grown dim. The minds that once could go toe to toe with us in playful banter have now been reduced to vacuous stares unable to comprehend our tears and pain like they once so quickly responded to.

I know many who read these words know of what I am speaking. Others only know it is coming. It is a part of life. It is a hard part.

I remember a couple years ago a good friend penned a reflection about saying good-bye to the lions of our past. Like Napoleon’s storied Old Guard these were the ones who held the line at all costs. Napoleon escaped from Waterloo because they held the road in which he was retreating. They fought to the last man. They could be counted on.

So too for those who can claim good parents. They weren’t perfect but their gracious love made their flaws insignificant. They provided a safe haven of home and hope. Always happy to hear our voices and respond. Always on our side even when they corrected us. Who better to do that? Who better to know our potential? Who better to know our flaws and yet instead of counting them, holding them against us – Grace – Love - held the day as they gently corrected our mistaken paths.

My friend’s reflection spoke of the pain of watching the old lions ultimately lie down and the sense of loss that accompanies their passing. And then comes the recognition that the guard has changed. We no longer can rely upon them like we once did. Now we have blessed memories and a learned faithful path to take as they once did. They showed us how now it is our turn to be for others what they were to us.

I have heard it said that blood is thicker than water. I understand this. Our families often become the bastions against a frightening and often cruel world. Where else can we turn?

Some two thousand years one came to show us another way. It is a way that turns the blood and water metaphor on its ear. From the moment of his birth to his eventual tortured death upon a cross – his life was dedicated to sharing with us the truth that our families are much bigger than we are. Through the waters of baptism we have been each grafted onto a family tree that includes no other than God himself. And in this tree we have our ultimate hope and solace. No matter our backgrounds, our lineage, and our gifts of family or lack thereof – our connection is simply faith and the waters of our baptisms.

As the words of Scripture ring true in our midst – truly we are like the flowers of the field – that whither and fade – we cling and hold fast to our ultimate truth and hope: but the steadfast love of the Lord endures forever.

Shalom,

Pastor John

O God, you have taught me since I was young, and to this day I tell of your wonderful works. Now I am old and gray headed, O God, do not forsake me, till I make known your strength to this generation and your power to all who are to come.
Psalm 71: 17-18

THE REAL PRESENCE OF CHRIST AND THE TABERNACLE

By Pr. Michael Lippard, St. Andrew, Franklin, TN

Lutherans, along with many other Christians, teach the doctrine of the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. This has several layers of meaning. For one thing, when we speak of the real presence, we are talking about “the true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ under the bread and wine”(Small Catechism, ELW, p. 1166).

In a treatise written in 1519, The Blessed Sacrament of the Holy and True Body of Christ, and the Brotherhoods, Martin Luther wrote: “Christ appointed these two forms of bread and wine, rather than any other, as a further indication of the very union and fellowship which is in this sacrament. For there is no more intimate, deep, and indivisible union than the union of the food with him who is fed. For the food enters into and is assimilated by his very nature, and becomes one substance with the person who is fed... There are those who practice their arts and subtleties by trying [to fathom] what becomes of the bread when it is changed into Christ’s flesh and of the wine when it is changed into his blood and how the whole Christ, his flesh and blood, can be encompassed in so small a portion of bread and wine. It does not matter if you do not see it. It is enough to know that it is a divine sign in which Christ’s flesh and blood are truly present” (Luther’s Works, Vol. 35, pp. 59-60).

Tabernacles in which the consecrated bread and wine of the Eucharist are kept are not seen frequently in Lutheran congregations. But just because they are seldom seen, that does not mean they are seldom present. Until recently, a small refrigerator in the sacristy has served as a tabernacle at St. Andrew [in Franklin, Tennessee]. In a sense, it still does: our home Eucharistic ministers stock their portable communion sets from it before they take communion to our homebound members. Thanks to a [memorial] contribution . . . . [St. Andrew] now has a tabernacle on the credence in full view of the congregation. Since the consecrated elements are kept within it, the tabernacle itself is a sign of the real presence of Christ in our midst.

Sometimes it is difficult to remember and trust that God is with us, especially when, for whatever reason, we do not sense or feel God’s presence. A Jewish theologian, Martin Buber, wrote about this difficulty: “He who knows God knows also very well remoteness from God, and the anguish of barrenness in the tormented heart; but he does not know the absence of God: it is we only who are not always there” (I And Thou, 1958, p. 99). Or, as Luther said above: “It does not matter if you do not see it. It is enough to know that it is a divine sign in which Christ’s flesh and blood are truly present.”

Christ’s presence certainly is not limited to the consecrated elements of the eucharist. In his sermon “Living Stones” at the dedication service on May 9, Bishop Gordy said, “You can’t contain God, can’t box God up in a building... No matter how grand the building, we won’t ever have God boxed up in it. Not even the sky and the cosmos can contain God! The depth and breadth and length of the immeasurable universe is not big enough to house God. And yet this great, unknowable, uncontainable, ungraspable God has promised to be with us when we gather in this place. And that presence makes this a holy place and us a holy people.”

A verse from an ancient hymn attributed to St. Patrick speaks of Christ’s presence in very personal, intimate terms: “Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger”(ELW 450).

That’s the message the church has proclaimed for centuries - the reality of Christ’s presence with us everywhere and all the time, regardless of whether we sense it or are attentive to it. The tabernacle, with the Greek letters chi (X) and rho (P) emblazed upon its doors (chi and rho are the first two letters in the Greek word for Christ), is a silent witness to the centrality of this message. It reminds us of Christ’s real presence in the consecrated bread and wine, his own body and blood, the holy food and drink of Christ’s holy people.

Our life in Christ is not about having God in a box of any size or description: a tabernacle, a church building, the world or the cosmos. It is about Christ’s presence in the middle of whatever challenges, joys, and sorrows surround us and threaten to box us into a life that is less than the life of faith to which we are called. Whatever is going on in our lives, we trust that nothing less than the real presence of Christ feeds, supports, shapes, and transforms us to be God’s holy people in the world.