In July of 1991, I sat in an arena in Dallas with about 30,000 other Lutheran teenagers. Maya Angelou was on the main stage that week, and I'm fairly sure most of us were thinking about lunch. I'd give a lot to sit in front of her again, 35 years wiser. I suspect I'd hear it differently now. 

In the 11th chapter of Genesis, there is an enigmatic tale about "The Tower of Babel." It is the final installment of the book's origin stories and explains the diversity of languages among humans. It is also a tale about human hubris and technological advancement. 

Over the years, with gifts large and small, people have remembered loved ones with contributions to our Mission Trust Fund. This fund has grown from around $50k fifteen years ago to over $200k today. With each saint remembered through a gift to the fund, the collective legacy of those we remember has grown. 

Over the past few years, I have received the same heartbreaking prayer request again and again. Lately, it seems to come more often—and with an even greater sense of pain. Someone will say, "My brother, sister, parent, or uncle will no longer speak to me because we disagree about politics." Or they will ask, "A relative or friend has become hurtful or abusive because we disagree politically. What should I do?" ​If this has happened in your family or among your friends, please know that you are not alone. It has happened to me too many times. 

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens...there are a few of my favorite things." The song from The Sound of Music captures us with the warmth and comfort of the treasured things of life. My favorite version of the song is by John Coltrane, the great jazz saxophonist. Even without the lyrics, I find that feeling brought to life. We all like our favorite things. And that is good. 

"I'm praying for you." My wife and I hear this all the time as we deal with our health concerns these days. We appreciate the expression of support and care. We both say this to others facing the struggles of life. "I'm praying for you," is a mantra that seeks to provide some kind of connection, express some concern. 

This expression, I suppose, can mean a lot of different things. As critics would point out it seems often to be something we say when we don't have anything "meaningful" to say. It is a standard social convention, like saying "I'm fine" when someone asks how we are. Prayer can be an act of desperation in the face of hopelessness. It can be an insipid response to a situation we wish would just go away. We "pray" when we lack the courage, ability, or desire to act. It is, literally, the least we can do. 

That said, I'm not convinced that even the most unthoughtful prayer is not still prayer. If there is any small turning of our hearts and minds to God or to our neighbor in need—even in our helplessness and hopelessness—it seems to me that is the Spirit's work. Paul writes, "...the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words. And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God." (Romans 8:26-27)

Prayer is not powerless or hopeless. Paul tells us it is the very essence of life. "Rejoice always, prayer without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18) Prayer is not asking for what we want or changing God. Philosopher and theologian Søren Kierkegaard reminds us that "The function of prayer is not to influence God, but rather to change the nature of the one who prays."

When we say, "I'm praying for you," and do it with intention it means in some way, we become mindful of another's pain, suffering, or struggle. That leads us to empathy and compassion. The next step is action. Anytime we are mindful of something or someone beyond ourselves, it is prayer. To get out of the default setting of self-concern and be mindful of the joys and struggles of others is prayer. Mindfulness is an essential movement that undergirds thoughtful action: A card, a letter or some other way of reaching out, person to person. 

When we pray to God, it is the same. Our mindfulness of God and God's story of creation, salvation, and sanctification, open us up to a way of looking at the world through God's eyes instead of our own self-centered view. It opens us to enlightenment, grace, mercy, and action. We discover what God wants from us instead of more attention to our own wants. 

I'm praying for you. 

In Christ, 
Timothy Olson
Lead Pastor

I've stood at the edge of the ocean. There is no end to it. It just passes off into the horizon, where it meets the sky. Most days, you can't tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins. 

That's the image that comes to mind when I sing, "There's a wideness in God's mercy, like the wideness of the sea." We sang it this past Sunday. 

The world is less than merciful. Most of the time, I don't think we set out to be merciless. We simply try to make sure that we and the people we love are cared for. We look after our own. We protect what is ours. We draw lines around the people and things for which we feel responsible. 

And somehow, without necessarily meaning to, those lines become the edges of our mercy. 

But then we sing about a God whose mercy has no such edges. "There's a wideness in God's mercy, like the wideness of the sea." The hymn goes on to say that we can make God's love too narrow by the limits we place on it. I wonder if that's part of what makes this hymn so challenging. Maybe God's mercy doesn't need to become wider. Maybe our understanding of it does. 

Maybe that's part of what hymns do. They put words in our mouths that are sometimes bigger than we are. We sing about a mercy we don't always understand, much less practice. And yet we keep singing it. 

Maybe, over time, the things we sing begin to shape us. We hear the words. We sing the words. Eventually, perhaps, we begin to live a little more like the words we sing. 

I wonder if that's one of the gifts of worship. We come with our own small ways of seeing the world, and week after week the Church puts something bigger on our lips. 

There is a wideness in God's mercy

Maybe we need to keep singing that until our mercy becomes a little wider, too. 

There's a Wideness to God's Mercy

Peace,
Travis Segar
Pastor for Care and Community

The news right now is filled with stories about war, suffering, and disaster. Wildfires are on nearly every continent and in too many countries to count. Earthquakes are shaking the foundations of the earth. War rages on in the Middle East, Ukraine, Sudan and elsewhere. The climate is changing as the world swelters in high than ever summer heat. It all reminds me of the 6th chapter of Revelation, where the Four Horsemen come calling. 

The first rider on a white horse brings conquest and oppression, (Revelation 6:1-2) which creates victims, refugees, injustice, and suffering. I think of Ukraine besieged for another year, Sudan torn apart in relentless revolution, the Middle East a bloodbath and economic nightmare. For all the mealy claims of "just cause," it all leaves victims and refugees in its wake. 

The second rider on a red horse takes, "peace from the earth, so that people would slaughter one another." (6:4) I think of war, but also of the daily shootings, hatred, and division all around us. We are a species at war with ourselves, tearing each other apart instead of living together in peace. 

The third horse is black and holds "a pair of scales in his hand, and I heard what seemed to be a voice in the midst of the four living creatures saying, 'A quart of wheat for a day's pay, and three quarts of barley for a day's pay, but do not damage the olive oil and the wine!'" (6:5-6) The poor can't afford to eat (or find housing or childcare) while the rich have plenty of the luxuries of life and get richer day by day. It is an accurate portrayal of the world we currently inhabit.

The fourth horse is green, and the rider brings death through "sword, famine, and pestilence." Iowa has among the nation's highest rates of cancer, and it gets worse each passing day. Measles are spreading in many states. Ebola is devastating Africa. 

We are living in a world where these four horses seem to run unrestrained. Does that mean the "end is near, and it is all coming true?" Not really. The horsemen are constant parts of human history for as long as there has been history. The riders run free because the sin and evil, the stubbornness and selfishness of humanity leave the unbridled.

Revelation does not end here. The Horsemen are not the final word. In the 19th chapter, another rider rises a pale horse bringing righteous judgement and an end to the tyranny of oppression, violence, injustice, famine, and death. That rider is Christ. The message of the Book of Revelation is that these present sufferings are not the final word, and that God will reign in Christ; that all tears will be wiped away; that all that is wrought by the evil of the world will be overcome.

The only future vision that the Book of Revelation predicts is of a new, redeemed world unbound from the power of death and destruction. Trusting that vision leads us not to live in fear and passively wait to be taken out of this world by some heavenly escape hatch. Instead, it calls us to live into the vision of the world to come—to feed the hungry, work for justice, stand against injustice and oppression. It calls us to fight death and embrace living. 

In the face of the four horsemen riding through our lives this day, you can do something. 

•  Pray for Ukraine, the Middle East, and Sudan. Pray that those fleeing may find rest and a home. Pray that women and children are safe. Pray for the people to stand against oppression and stand up for themselves. Pray that peace brought by the Lamb of God comes to that ravaged land. 
• Support efforts to give aid to the people facing wildfire, earthquake and other disasters. Give to Lutheran World Relief, who are already on the ground and active https://www.holytrinityankeny.org/giving-funds.html
• Reconcile with those who have wronged you and make peace with those who disagree with you. In as much as it is in your power, end violence and division by being a force of love and peace. 

You are the Beloved Community, and you can dismount the deadly riders that roam our world with your love, grace, and mercy. 

Pax Christi
Timothy Olson
Lead Pastor