Sunday, September 17, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary)
watch this service online (readings start around 23:07; children’s sermon starts around 27:12; sermon starts around 33:25)

Reading: Genesis 18:1-15; 21:1-7

In the children’s sermon before the main sermon, we talked about impossible things. I talked about learning to crochet for the first time — as a lefty, I found it impossible to learn until my teacher brought in the mother of one of my classmates, an accomplished crocheter who was also left-handed. Watching her do it, things suddenly clicked for me; and learning to crochet opened up a whole new world of creativity for me. I asked the kids if they had ever faced impossible things or impossible situations and what that was like. And we talked about how, in our bible reading, God does something impossible for Sarah and Abraham by sending them a child in their old age. This story gives us hope that even the things we find impossible are possible with God.

I come from a family that has a long history of cancer. In fact, cancer was kind of the catalyst behind some of my earliest childhood memories. I remember many, many road trips to go see my maternal grandmother, who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer when I was only a few years old. My mom’s whole side of the family is from the Quad Cities area way on the other side of Iowa. But my mom was really close with her mom, so we made the drive out to see my grandma at least once or twice a month. That is not exactly a short drive for an adult – and with three very small children in the car, it was an eternity. It’s why I’m pretty sure I have been inside every single truck stop along the whole stretch of I80 in Iowa. (lol)

My grandma ended up passing away when I was five. And it was awful, but not completely surprising, when two months later, my mom was diagnosed – with breast cancer. Those were some very hard years. My mom’s always had a very resilient spirit – so even when things really started getting serious, she was determined to keep on laughing. Her hair all fell out from the chemo, so she started a collection of fun wigs (my favorite was this lime green baseball cap someone gave her that had a long, blonde ponytail coming out the back). She did her best to stay upbeat and positive for my siblings and me, even after undergoing a single mastectomy, and even while dealing with radiation treatments that left her with deep burns on her skin. 

But even after she endured all that, the cancer just kept hanging on. And by this point, her doctors were starting to run out of treatments. So Mom got referred to an experimental cancer study being done somewhere out in Virginia. She was gone for weeks. But then even that wasn’t having the kind of effect on her cancer that we had hoped. And gradually it started to seem like Mom might not actually get better. It started to seem like winning this battle with cancer might be impossible.

Sunday, September 10, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Fifteenth Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary)
watch this service online (readings start around 25:20; children’s sermon starts around 28:52; sermon starts around 37:55)

Reading: Genesis 2:4b-25

In the children’s sermon today, I brought a container of Play-Doh. I asked the kids if the whole glob of Play-Doh was all made up of the same stuff (yes), then split it into two pieces and then smaller pieces and asked them if it was still made up of the same stuff (yes). We talked about how in the bible story we read, God makes humans from the dust of the earth (not exactly Play-Doh, but close enough) and basically splits the same ball of clay in order to make the first two humans. And not only that, but all the things God makes — trees and plants and birds and all different kinds of animals — God makes them all out of the earth, just like humans. In a way, that makes us family with creation — we’re all made of the same stuff. So we talked about what it means to be part of a family, how they love us and care for us and how we have responsibilities and have to do things like chores as part of how we love and care for them back — God also calls us to do this for the earth.

Many years ago, back when I lived in Lincoln the last time, I was in a bible study at Grace Lutheran Church. This particular study focused on looking at the bible as a whole, and we spent time tracing out some of the major overarching narratives that run throughout the whole book. We started with the first few chapters of Genesis — of course — creation, the garden of Eden, Adam and Eve, all that. And then we came to the story of Cain and Abel in Genesis 4. And in our discussion, the bible study leader made a comment that has stuck with me ever since. After Cain kills his brother (spoilers!), God comes to speak with him and asks him, “Where is your brother Abel?” Cain immediately gets defensive and is like, “How should I know?” And he asks God a key question: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” Our study leader proposed that you could honestly interpret the entire rest of the bible as God’s answer to that question, which is: a bold, resounding, all caps “YES! YES, you are your brother’s keeper.”

We see the seeds of that planted from the very beginning, here in the second chapter of Genesis. We have this story of God creating the first humans, shaping them by hand from the dust of the earth. At first, God just makes one human – but God isn’t satisfied with the idea of this first human being alone. So after trying out a few other options, God decides to make another human so they’ll have each other for company. But instead of scooping up another handful of dust from the earth, God decides to do a quick bit of divine amputation, and suddenly one human creature becomes two. Two people who are one flesh – it kind of makes you hear the commandment to love your neighbor as yourself in a whole new way!

Sunday, September 3, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Fourteenth Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary)
watch this service online (readings start around 18:38; children’s sermon starts around 21:18; sermon starts around 28:03)

Readings: Acts 2:1-18, Matthew 28:17-20

In the children’s message this morning, we talked about being called to do things that scare us or that make us uncomfortable. Oftentimes these are things that stretch us and make us grow, and the very people who push us to do them are usually the ones who are there to support us. In our readings, the disciples are called to something new and scary that they’re not sure they’ll be able to do – but the Spirit gives them everything they need to be able to do it, and Jesus promises to be with them always.

In a way, the story of the Holy Spirit as we know it begins with an ending – and that’s not just because it’s featured in the last section of the creeds! These few verses from Matthew that we read today are the very last verses in Matthew’s gospel. Jesus has risen from the dead, the tomb is empty, his followers have seen and touched him, and now he calls them to gather once more in Galilee, to come full circle to the place where it all began. He declares his authority over all heaven and earth and he charges his disciples with a mission: “Go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

It sounds very much like a happy ending, especially that last line – “Remember I am with you always, to the end of the age” – it sounds kind of like the bible’s version of “and they all lived happily ever after.”

And our reading from Acts has kind of that same vibe of a happily ever after. We have this joyful explosion of the Spirit at Pentecost, in which the disciples receive the gifts they need to carry out this mission that Jesus has given them. It’s such a wild and raucous and joyous occasion that Peter literally has to step in and try to convince people that the disciples aren’t all wasted at nine in the morning. 

Sunday, August 27, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary)
watch this service online (reading starts around 20:53; children’s sermon starts around 23:44; sermon starts around 38:14)

Readings: John 1:1-18, 1 Corinthians 1:18-25

Today’s sermon I prefaced with a children’s message in which we went on a little field trip around the sanctuary, looking at the worship space from different seats and talking about how worship might be different for someone sitting in a different spot from us. From that, we got into talking about the importance of being able to put ourselves in other peoples’ shoes and see things from their perspective, and how we do this out of love for one another. And we talked about how God coming to earth as Jesus was a massive act of God choosing to come down and walk in our shoes, to look at things from our perspective, all because of how much God loves us — and we talked about how, through that, Jesus works to reconcile humanity with God.

Today, we’re continuing on our journey through the three parts of the Apostles’ Creed. There are a number of differences between the Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed – aside from the time it takes to say each one. These differences are most noticeable in the middle section of the creed, which we’re diving into today. There’s a lot of language in the Nicene Creed that isn’t included in the Apostles’ Creed – and almost all of it has to do with how the church understands the nature of Jesus Christ.

The Apostle’s Creed just says, “I believe in Jesus Christ, God’s only Son, our Lord,” and calls it a day.

The Nicene Creed, as you probably recall, has a little bit more to say on the matter. The Nicene adds on that Jesus is:
“eternally begotten of the Father, 
God from God! 
Light from Light! 
true God from true God! 
begotten, not made! 
of one Being with the Father – 
through him all things were made!”

If this seems a bit like overkill to you, well, you’re not wrong. See, what had happened was that in the early centuries of the church, there were all these really heated debates about how to understand the nature of Jesus Christ – was he a god? was he a human? what’s the deal? A lot of this language in the Nicene Creed came out of an argument at the Council of Nicaea, where a bunch of church leaders gathered to hash out some of these theological questions. At Nicaea, the big, hot button issue was about whether Jesus was really fully divine, fully God – or if he was created by God, and therefore, not actually God.

Judging by the creed, I think you can probably guess which side won. 😜

Sunday, August 20, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary)
watch this service online (reading starts around 23:15; children’s sermon starts around 24:52; sermon starts around 30:58)
image source

Readings: Genesis 1:1-5, Matthew 6:30-34

In the children’s sermon before this, I showed the kids a hat that my friends’ mom had made me growing up, and we talked about how special it is to receive things that someone made for us. I also talked about how this same friends’ mom had given me a big ball of yarn when I was going through a hard time because she knew what I needed and how to cheer me up when I needed it. God made this whole wonderful world for us, and God knows what we need – often even better than we do ourselves – so God asks us to go to God first with what we need because God promises to provide for us.

“I believe in God, the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.” In one short sentence, you have the entire first article of the Apostles’ Creed. It’s even shorter and more to the point than the Nicene Creed — but packed into that one short sentence, there are some pretty big ideas. 

Like the Nicene Creed, the Apostles’ Creed is set up in a Trinitarian format — so this first section focuses on God the Father, and then the other two sections focus on God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. Today and over the next couple of Sundays, we’re going to dive into each of these sections and just let ourselves just really marinate in all the good stuff we can find in such a familiar text.

Sound good? (If not, too bad; we’re doing it anyway! 😜)

Sunday, August 13, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary)
watch this service online (reading starts around 22:33; children’s sermon w/blessing of the backpacks starts around 23:53; sermon starts around 34:20)

Reading(s): Song of Solomon 2:10-13; 8:6-7, (Mark 8:35-37)

Before the tall people’s sermon (as I like to call it), in the children’s message, we talked about the mention of seals in our reading from Song of Solomon — about how seals not only are a way to stick things together; seals are also oftentimes marks of identity. We talked about the seal of the state of Nebraska on the state flag and about the seal of the ELCA, which I showed them on my ordination certificate. We talked about how, in baptism, each of us is “sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” God’s love, like a seal, is stamped on our hearts, and we are called to leave that mark of love on the rest of the world. Each student, teacher, and school staff person present received a tag to put on their school bags for our annual blessing of the backpacks, which we likened to a seal, and we then closed with the blessing.

Before I moved back to Nebraska to be ordained and start first call, I spent a year living in New Mexico, where I completed my seminary internship. The city I lived in – Las Cruces, NM – is way, way down in the southern part of the state, only about 40 miles north of the Mexican border. Down there, it seemed like a whole different world from Nebraska and the Midwest — instead of cornfields and prairie, there were mountains and desert, prickly pear and yucca and tall stands of ocotillo, houses that had rock landscapes in front of them instead of lawns. In many ways, it was far from the places I’d known. I moved to Las Cruces from Chicago, and the drive alone took us three whole days. 

As we were getting the truck unloaded and carrying all my stuff in, one of my new neighbors came over to say hello. And you can imagine my surprise when out of nowhere, he asked me one of the most Nebraskan questions you can possibly ask, which was: “Oh hey, 13 county — what part of Nebraska is that in?” I mean, what?! In this city over a thousand miles away from where I grew up, how is it that literally the first person I talk to is familiar enough to know that the first two numbers on most Nebraska license plates tell you the county?? Well, turns out this guy and his wife were from Wahoo, NE! Go figure. And so I said, “Well, I guess now I know who owns that truck with the Husker sticker on the back!”

Sunday, August 6, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Tenth Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary)
watch this service online (reading starts around 23:22; children’s sermon starts around 29:14; sermon starts around 36:56)

Reading(s): Ecclesiastes 1:1-11, 3:1-17, (Luke 13:1-3)

For the children’s message before this sermon, I brought a little 3D printed figurine of the character Grogu (AKA Baby Yoda) from the show The Mandalorian that my brother had made. We talked about how a 3D printer makes something by tracing a pattern over and over and over and over in order to build up layers of plastic to make something. I asked them about what things in their life they do over and over — like eating or brushing teeth or going to school — and why. And I asked them about the things that we do together as church over and over — like praying, worshiping, serving, singing, etc. — and why. In both cases, we talked about health and growth and learning.

Generations of believers before us practiced many of the same faith practices we do over and over long before any of us were born. God’s people have been reading the same book for the last 2000 years! The author of our reading from Ecclesiastes says that people do the same things over and over from generation to generation, that there is nothing new under the sun. And while we can hear this in a hopeless way — that we’re doomed to be boring, just doing the same stuff over and over — we can also look at it like 3D printing. We’re building a foundation with every prayer, with every song or act of service, a foundation building up the body of Christ, building up our relationship with God and with our neighbor.

“Vanity of vanities, all is vanity!” “What has been is what will be, and what has been done is what will be done; there is nothing new under the sun.” “All things are wearisome, more than one can express…” Okay, Eeyore.

Out of all the books of the bible, I think Ecclesiastes is probably the one that most clearly reflects just how long all these texts were written before the invention of antidepressants. (lol)

Sunday, July 23, 2023
Spirit of Hope Lutheran Church, Lincoln, NE
Eighth Sunday after Pentecost (narrative lectionary!)
watch this service online (reading starts around 25:40; children’s sermon starts around 27:25; sermon starts around 34:55)

Reading(s): Proverbs 1:1-7, 3:1-8, (Matthew 13:34-35)

I prefaced this sermon with a children’s message in which I talked about how, when life presents us with uncertain or unfamiliar situations or people, God invites us to step forward with a spirit of curiosity rather than fear. I illustrated this by bringing a mysterious box and making the children guess its contents: it was more boxes, lol – six increasingly tiny boxes all nested inside one another – to illustrate how each new thing we learn draws us in deeper, presenting us with new questions and new mysteries. When we keep our hearts and minds open to learn about others and about creation, it is an opportunity for us to grow closer to God.

When I was a kid, I had a terrible fear of spiders. Specifically spiders. Snakes, toads, mice, didn’t bother me at all – I mean, I basically became the designated snake handler for my Girl Scout troop. Anything with 0-4 legs I was fine with. But the more you started to add on legs, the less I wanted to do with it.

After I grew up and I graduated from college, I became a Peace Corps Volunteer. I ended up getting sent to the Dominican Republic, a country on this beautiful, tropical, Caribbean island. It was an amazing experience – a mostly amazing experience – because, well, how do I say this… do you know what kinds of bugs they have on beautiful, tropical, Caribbean islands? Big ones. Big ol’ bugs – bugs with legs for days!

Sunday, June 18, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Third Sunday after Pentecost
watch this service online (readings start around 18:58; sermon starts around 30:51; there’s also some special music around 20:31 and 1:20:45 by yours truly)

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. This verse from Jesus is one that I can imagine a lot of people find relatable in these days – especially those of us who are invested in the work of being church together. It always seems to end up being the same tired people doing the work, the same worn out folks trying to scrape together the energy to keep pushing the church forward. 

The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few – or, to say it another way, there’s plenty of good work to be done, but there’s just not a lot of people to do it. It’s a dynamic that’s also familiar to anyone engaged in work like trying to slow the decline of small towns in rural Nebraska – or just in general, those of us who are committed to trying to do good or to fight for justice and peace in a world that often seems, at best, indifferent to our efforts. 

It’s a reality that I am especially conscious of today, as I prepare to leave this call and transition into something new. There are so many open calls, so many congregations in need of pastors – just in this synod alone. I am well aware of how few pastors there are to go around – and here I am, creating another vacancy. The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. 

As people invested in the work of the church – and just generally trying to do good in this rapidly changing world – we can easily start to feel overwhelmed when we consider how much work there is to be done. There’s so much hunger and suffering and poverty to alleviate, so many disasters in need of response, so many people in need of good news – and that’s to say nothing of trying to keep the lights on and the furnace running and the bills paid. The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few.

Sunday, June 11, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Second Sunday after Pentecost
watch this service online (readings start around 17:16; sermon starts around 24:42)

In his letter to the Romans, Paul talks about the story of Abraham. He extols Abraham’s faith for being strong and “unwavering” in the face of adversity. However, when you go back and read the original story of Abraham, written in the book of Genesis, the portrait it paints of him is not quite so staunch and stoic.

It’s not that Abraham is unfaithful. It’s just that he is keenly, painfully aware of the realities of his situation. For instance, he is very aware that he is – to put it in biblical terms – old. Like, really old. Paul literally describes him as being “as good as dead” – not to mention that his wife Sarah isn’t exactly a spring chicken herself. 

Abraham and Sarah are both very aware of what an impossible thing this is that God is promising them. At this point, their hopes of having children of their own are decades past their expiration date. And that is a deeply painful truth they’ve had to face. For any woman at the time, being barren was generally a source of immense shame, which I imagine Sarah felt. And Abraham laments to God that he has no one to inherit the wealth and security he has worked so hard to establish, no one to carry on his legacy. He asks God, “O Lord God, what will you give me? For I continue childless… you have given me no offspring.” 

God repeatedly reassures an anxious Abraham that he and Sarah will be the ancestors of a multitude of descendents, just as God has promised. But Abraham finds that it’s hard to wait with patience for something that seems impossible. 

Sunday, June 4, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Holy Trinity
watch this service online (readings start around 21:30; sermon starts around 33:59, with children’s sermon around 29:50)

Once upon a time,

a long, long time before you were born,

there was nothing — and there was God.

Only God existed in the beginning, but God wasn’t alone. In the ages before time itself began, the three persons of the Trinity were together, a living, divine community of love — the three-in-one and one-in-three. Love existed, long before anything else came into being.

This love the Trinity shared was dynamic – joyful and active and creative – and in time, it gave rise to the whole universe. At God’s word, light exploded into being, bright and pure and clear. God spun out stars and planets and galaxies, scattering them across the reaches of space. Atoms and elements came together to form oceans and continents, which God then filled with life: grass and green shoots that grew into trees heavy with fruit, while the waters teemed with swarms of creatures. God brought forth land creatures with legs, and birds of every kind, breathing the breath of life into the dust of creation. And as they spoke the entire cosmos into being, the Trinity paused for a moment to admire their handiwork and said to themselves, “Wow – this is some really good stuff!”

And in that moment, the Trinity had an amazing idea: “What if we made creatures in our own image?!” We could make beings who would also be creators, like us – lovers and stewards of creation who would live together in one community of love, like we do. They could join us in the work of creation and we would love them and they would love us!

So that’s exactly what they did. The Trinity made humankind in their own image – humans of all genders and colors and persuasions – they made them and handed them the house keys of creation. And once they had finished, the Trinity stepped back to take it all in, and they said to themselves, “Oh yeah. Now we’re talking.”

Sunday, May 28, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Pentecost Sunday
watch this service online (readings start around 19:32; sermon starts around 26:41)
photo credit: Elle Dowd

I was really glad I had the chance to get away to Chicago for a few days earlier this month. Even though it was a quick trip, I did get to spend time with several friends and just unwind for a bit. One of the most fun parts of it was that I got to go to a murder mystery dinner that some friends of mine were hosting at their house. Has anyone ever been to one of those? It’s basically like role-playing the game Clue; a group of people gathers together in character over dinner, and over the course of the evening, they try to solve a (fictional) murder and figure out which character is the murderer.

I went with my friends Erin and Josh, who I was staying with, and, to be honest, we weren’t completely sure what to expect ahead of time about how this would all go. Each of us had been given a particular character to play. My character’s name was Mrs. Withering, the housekeeper; Erin was the cook, Blanche Batters; and to everyone’s amusement, Josh – one of the few non-clergypeople in attendance – was assigned the character of the Rev. Will Beedone. 

The friends who were hosting the party gave explicit instructions in their invitation that everyone was expected to be both in costume and in character for the entire evening. However, we had been given only the barest details about these characters we were supposed to play! For instance, I knew that my character was supposed to wear a high-necked black dress with a silver locket and her hair in a bun; I knew she was an accountant before becoming a housekeeper, that she took care of her father before he died, and that her employer – the murderee – didn’t pay her very well (I mean, everybody’s got to have a motive, right?). But that was it! That was all I knew. 

Sunday, May 21, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Ascension Sunday
watch this service online (readings start around 15:40; sermon starts around 21:46)

I spent a few days back in Chicago this past week, visiting friends. That drive out east always takes me back to the car trips my family used to take when I was a kid. My mom’s family is all from the Quad Cities area, as I’ve mentioned before, and when I was growing up, we used to go out and visit them several times a year. So I got to know that long stretch of I-80 that runs through Iowa all too well long before I lived in Chicago.

Driving that route as an adult is, of course, a lot different from experiencing it as a kid. Don’t get me wrong; it’s still a long drive now – but as a kid, it seemed interminable. Those hours on the road just draaaaaagged on. And in true kid fashion, it didn’t take long for us to start asking every parent’s favorite road trip question, over and over again: Are we there yet?

It’s hard for young kids to be patient with long car trips like that. I know it was for me. It wasn’t just having to sit still for that long. It’s that I had very little concept of the trip as a whole – like, I didn’t know enough to be able to visualize a map of it in my head; I just knew that it was long. And so it was impossible to have an idea of where we were within that window of “long” other than to keep asking again and again, “Are we there yet?”

Sunday, May 14, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Sixth Sunday of Easter
watch this service online (readings start around 27:23; sermon starts around 34:30)

There is at least one thing in my life for which I do not give thanks nearly often enough. And that is my smartphone. I’d hold it up right now and show it to you for visual emphasis – but my smartphone is currently back there, working at its day job, which is live-streaming this service.

It’s an amazing tool that most of us carry around in our pockets all day, when you stop and think about it. It lets us share information and connect with people all over the world. It gives us access to virtually all human knowledge, right there at our fingertips – as well as adorable pictures of cats and babies. It enables us to open up an app like Google Maps and look up directions that will lead us straight from our front door to just about any destination we can imagine. 

Now, granted, Google Maps can be a bit hit or miss in more rural areas and small towns like Schuyler. I have been trying to get Google to add that new stretch of Denver Street north of the parsonage ever since it was built – and they only just added it last week. But even despite its shortcomings, it’s still pretty amazing that you can find your way just about anywhere in the world with this little device that fits in your pocket.

Sunday, May 7, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Fifth Sunday of Easter
watch this service online (readings start around 28:27; sermon starts around 34:35)

It was a summer night, back in the summer of 2002. I was seventeen, and my friends and I had spent the entire afternoon hanging out at the Cedar County Fair up in Hartington. It was a blast. We were on our way back home when it started to rain – at first a few drops, that then quickly turned into a torrential downpour. My friends lived on a farm place a couple miles north of town; I had driven there dozens – if not hundreds – of times. I definitely knew the way! But in the dark, with the rain pouring down, I somehow managed to make a teeeeensy little wrong turn. Instead of turning onto their road, I managed to turn onto the road one section north – a road that, a mile in, went from gravel to a minimum maintenance road (aka a dirt road). 

You can imagine how that went for us! By the time I realized my mistake, it was already much too late. I had been driving pretty slowly, but the car still had enough momentum that when the tires left gravel, the mud immediately took control and just kinda grabbed onto the wheels and guided us right over into the ditch. I shifted the car into reverse and made kind of a half-hearted effort to try to back out of it, but I knew that we were well and truly stuck. 

Sunday, April 23, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Third Sunday of Easter
watch this service online (readings start around 20:43; sermon starts around 28:40)
image source

It’s just crazy weather we’ve been having lately, right? For like three days – three glorious days – I got to wear tank tops and open up the windows of my house – and now, we’re almost to the end of April, and I swear to you I saw snowflakes like two days ago. But I guess that’s just springtime in Nebraska for you, right? You never really know what to expect from the weather this time of year.

But there is one thing you can pretty consistently expect from spring weather in Nebraska: and that’s the way that people will talk about spring weather in Nebraska. It’s almost this kind of liturgy that we keep repeating with each other year after year. For instance, someone might begin this liturgy by saying something like, “So wow, crazy weather we’ve been having lately, right?” – to which another person might respond with a phrase like, “Ugh, tell me about it! I heard they got a foot of snow out in the panhandle!” or “Yeah, it’s crazy, but you know we do need the moisture,” or “Well, you know, it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for all this wind!” And almost inevitably, the sort of closing “Amen” of this liturgy is some variation of, “Well, I suppose we shouldn’t be too surprised – that’s just spring in Nebraska for you!”

Sunday, April 16, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Second Sunday of Easter
watch this service online (readings start around 18:58; sermon starts around 26:29)

Do you know how many stars are in our galaxy? If I told you that there are over 100 billion stars just in our galaxy alone, would you believe me? You probably would, right? (And you should, because it’s true!) What if I told you that for every person on earth, there are about 1.5 million ants? You might be a little more skeptical on that one, but most of you would probably believe me. But, if I told you that there was wet paint on that wall over there, you’d all have to touch it to believe me.

It’s one thing for us to hear data about astronomical numbers like how many stars there are in the Milky Way or how many ants there are on earth. It’s interesting information, but not necessarily something we feel like we have an immediate stake in. Like, it probably doesn’t change much of anything for me to tell you that I lied earlier about the ants – there are actually closer to 2.5 million ants for each human. 

But wet paint we care about. It’s important to us. I mean, you could accidentally brush up against a wall and get wet paint all over your nice clean clothes. And for those of us who know this space so well, hearing that there’s wet paint would immediately raise questions, like: How can there be wet paint there? Who would be painting in here? And why? What happened? We’d feel compelled to go and touch the wet paint to see for ourselves if it’s really true. Our very skepticism, our doubt, shows that – unlike stars or ants – this is a question that really matters to us. 

Sunday, April 9, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Easter Sunday
Adapted from commentary written by Gennifer Benjamin Brooks
watch this service online (readings start around 12:52; sermon starts around 19:56)

As those who were gathered here last evening for the Easter Vigil service can attest, I was still struggling to get a sermon hammered out for this morning, even as we were departing the church last night. Feeling stuck and unable to find the words that needed to be said, I did what preachers often do when they’re stuck, and turned to reading commentary on the gospel text. I came across some commentary on this text from John written by Gennifer Benjamin Brooks, who is a preaching professor at Garrett-Evangelical Theological Seminary in Chicago — and, fittingly for a preaching professor, her commentary already read to me like a sermon. Her words already proclaimed the good news that I wanted to say, and I thought to myself, “Hallelujah! Christ is risen — and I get to sleep!” I’ve rearranged and adapted it a little bit for my voice when reading aloud, and added in some things here and there, but here is a good Easter word mainly from the Rev. Dr. Brooks!

Friday, April 7, 2023
Kountze Memorial Lutheran Church, Omaha, NE
Good Friday
watch this service online

I had the honor of being invited to preach at Kountze Memorial Lutheran Church in Omaha at their Tre Ore service, which is a service traditionally held on Good Friday from noon to 3pm, commemorating the final hours of Christ on the cross. Seven preachers from different denominations gave sermons on each of the seven last words of Jesus. The word I preached on was “Woman, behold your son.”

John 19:23-27
²³ When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. ²⁴ So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says,

“They divided my clothes among themselves,
    and for my clothing they cast lots.”

²⁵ And that is what the soldiers did.

Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. ²⁶ When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” ²⁷ Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.

This is the day that Mary has been dreading – ever since the days when her beloved son was still small enough that she could cradle him in her arms. She has known for a long time that his path would one day lead them here. 

Thursday, April 6, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Maundy Thursday
watch this service online (readings start around 8:06; sermon starts around 15:56)

Over the last month or so, I have unexpectedly become a big fan of a show I’d never heard of before – a show called “Hot Ones.” It’s a series on YouTube in which the host interviews celebrities – but as they answer questions, they have to eat these increasingly spicy chicken wings. And these wings get HOT – like practically weapons-grade spiciness. As the show goes on, you can see how visibly uncomfortable people get – their faces get all red; they start sweating and tearing up and chugging milk; by the end, some are literally yelling swearing at the host. Heh, it’s a pretty fun time.

I enjoy the show mostly for the conversations. Because these chicken wings are so absurdly spicy, it’s just painful and distracting enough that it kind of peels away the carefully cultivated and composed exterior that people come in with and forces them to just be real – to show who they really are and say what they really think. It’s hard to keep looking cool and poised when your mouth is on fire and your face is melting.

But because of that, I have to admit that there’s also a bit of a guilty pleasure in this show for me. Most of the guests on the show are fairly humble and nervous about how well they’ll be able to handle the wings. But every once in a while, you’ll get someone who comes in who’s just super cocky and full of themselves – usually it’s some young hotshot White guy – someone who is just chock full of unearned confidence that they are going to crush these wings like a champ. It is so satisfying to watch them crash and burn – by the end, they’re in so much pain that they’re like trying to snort milk to cool their sinuses and they can’t even pretend to be cool anymore. It’s satisfying to watch their egos be taken down a peg – and then another, and another.

The Germans actually have a word for this kind of feeling (because of course they do). They call it schadenfreude. There’s no precise translation for it in English, but the basic meaning of schadenfreude is: taking pleasure in the suffering of someone else.

Sunday, March 26, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Fifth Sunday in Lent
watch this service online (readings start around 15:54; sermon starts around 28:54)

I’d like to start off my sermon today by introducing you to a very old friend of mine. This is Miss Kitty. I have had Miss Kitty since I was about three months old. She was given to me by an aunt of my mom’s, I believe, and I immediately fell in love with her. She looked a little different than this when I first got her – for one thing, she still had fur back then – she was plush and soft and white and I used to drag her around with me absolutely everywhere I went. 

She’s a little worse for the wear nowadays, of course. As a child, I quite literally loved her to pieces. So over the years, she’s had to undergo a number of “reconstructive surgeries.” At one point, my mom actually started sewing her these little jumpsuits – they were kind of like little footie pajamas – essentially, it was a Miss Kitty-shaped bag just designed to keep all her parts together in one place.

After my mom died, I took over the task of repairing Miss Kitty myself. If you look at her closely, you can still see some of my mom’s tidy stitches, and then basically a whole tapestry of me gradually learning to sew on my own. I love that Miss Kitty is kind of a collaborative project that my mom and I both worked on. I actually made her this little dress back in high school, when I was learning how to crochet. And even though I don’t drag her with me absolutely everywhere I go anymore, she has still come with me pretty much everywhere I’ve moved, from college to camp to Peace Corps to grad school – and now to Schuyler.

Sunday, March 19, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Fourth Sunday in Lent
watch this service online (readings start around 17:16; sermon starts around 27:45)

In our Wednesday evening gatherings for Training Disciples, we have been engaging in bible study and reflection and prayer, all centered around the theme of “blessing the Lent we actually have.” It’s a Lenten curriculum inspired by this book: The Lives We Actually Have: 100 Blessings for Imperfect Days – and boy, there is a lot of goodness in here. Both the book and the curriculum were written by a bestselling author named Kate Bowler, who is a professor of religious history at Duke Divinity School. 

The book Bowler is probably best known for, though, is this one, called: Everything Happens for a Reason, And Other Lies I’ve Loved. It’s a memoir of sorts. When Bowler was 35 years old, she was unexpectedly diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer and told that she likely only had another two years to live. Thankfully, it’s been eight years since then, and she is in remission now, thanks be to God! But Bowler wrote this book about the kind of toxic positivity and terrible theology that we tend to reach for in times of trouble – especially this idea that everything happens for a reason – this idea that suffering and pain and loss are somehow part of what God plans and intends for us. 

It’s a terrifying thing to believe, when you stop and think about it. But I suppose it’s comforting to believe that there is something divine or redemptive about our suffering – that it’s all according to plan, even if the plan is terrible. It also tends to give us permission to distance ourselves from the suffering of others – because that, too, is “all part of the plan.” 

But, contrary to this idea of God, what Bowler shows through her writings is a God who walks beside us, a tender, caring God who comes down right into the middle of the mess and chaos and disarray of our daily lives to give us the strength and comfort to keep on going. She gives us an image of God that is actually much more in line with what we know of God from scripture – especially from scripture like Psalm 23, which we read today. There we see that God is one who gives us rest and brings us beauty, one who anoints us and comforts us, one who goes with us all the way, even into the darkest valley.

Sunday, March 12, 2023
St. John’s Lutheran Church, Schuyler, NE
Third Sunday in Lent
watch this service online (readings start around 19:57; sermon starts around 30:08)
(another 2020 throwback)

Our gospel text for this morning picks up about half a chapter after our gospel reading from last week. Last week, you might remember, Jesus was in Jerusalem, where he received a nighttime visit from our friend Nicodemus, the Pharisee. 

Well, now, in the first few verses of John 4, Jesus learns that trouble might be brewing with the rest of the Pharisees, who are feeling a lot less friendly toward him than our pal Nicodemus. So Jesus and his disciples decide it’s time to hit the road. In verses 3 and 4 of chapter 4, John writes that “[Jesus] left Judea and started back to Galilee. But he had to go through Samaria.” And that is where our story begins.

John writes that Jesus “had” to go through Samaria to get from Judea to Galilee – and if you look at a map of the area, that seems totally logical. These three regions were all right next to each other: you had Galilee to the north, Judea to the south, and right in between them, you had Samaria (with mountains to the east and the Mediterranean sea to the west).