​Names are important. They are more than a means of identification. Names are part of knowing someone and being known by others. This is especially true in scripture. God gives Abram and Sarai new names, calling them Abraham and Sarah. It may seem a small change, but it identified them as not just heads of a family, but blessings to the whole world. Jacob is renamed Israel. Saul becomes Paul. In each case, they are known by God and their name is important.

This past Sunday was the first week of Advent. It was the first week of the Church’s calendar. Advent marks a beginning. Advent marks a time of looking. Advent marks a time of waiting for the Christ child.  

T​he turkey is defrosting. The house smells of pies baking. Preparations for the annual Thanksgiving Day are underway. One preparation is still undone – a list of the things for which I am thankful. Steeped in the mythic stories of the Mayflower and the big spread shared by indigenous Americans and their English guests, we will focus on the feast and the harvest time. Certainly, we will give thanks for family and friends. Maybe we are grateful for health – and if we are honest – wealth. The list is long, and I’m glad I only must do this once a year! But then I read scripture. 

Rest. It shouldn’t be counter-cultural, but in today’s world, it is. We can think that the times have changed, and we can pine for a time when rest was something that people regularly did. But rest has always been elusive for the American culture. It is evident in our “pull yourself by your own bootstraps” mentality. Collectively, we praise those who over-work and give side looks to those who aren’t pulling themselves up. (Even as we ignore the fact that many of those we give side looks to don’t have bootstraps to pull.)  

There are two things on my mind today. First, it is that time of the church year when the readings appointed for our annual journey turn to endings. The Book of Revelation announces: “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.” (Revelation 1:8) God is the beginning (the alpha point) and the end (the omega point). With the end of the church year just ahead, the Festival of Christ the King (November 20) will declare the finality of God’s Word revealed in Christ. All of history will be bent, nudged, cajoled, forgiven, and redeemed into the reign of God.

​As I write this, it is evident that autumn is here. The farmers are busy harvesting corn and beans. The air is thick with dust from the fields, and it doesn’t matter if you live in the middle of town or not, dust travels and covers the landscape. Unfortunately, it also lands on the end table in my living room.  

I recently finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The book was awarded the 2007 Pulitzer Prize for fiction, and since I’m on a leisurely journey to read these award-winning works, it was my next find. The book is set in a post-apocalyptic wasteland of ash and darkness. The two main characters, a father and a son, are “on the road.” They are on a journey to find something, though it is not clear what exactly. Hope, perhaps. Love for sure. Though they try to avoid the dangers and suffering of the road, they cannot. The only path to what they seek is straight through the devastation. No detours. 

​Five hundred and five years ago, Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the church in Wittenberg, touching off a debate and conflict that came to be known as The Reformation. Thus ends the most predictable sentence a Lutheran pastor could type in the days leading up to Reformation Day. It would now be predictable to shout the praises of brother Martin and point to the eternal truths revealed in that historic moment. I’m not going to do that. I’m actually tired of doing that.

​Saturday the 15th of September is the day we remember Teresa of Avila (1515-1582), a nun and spiritual reformer whose influence on the church continues to grow to this day. One of the most beautiful contributions to the Christian faith she left with us was a reflection on how the incarnate one, Jesus, once raised from the dead continues that incarnation through the faithful. 

​What exactly does it mean to be ordained? It doesn’t really mean that one is called to follow Jesus. That calling comes to every Christian through the sacrament of baptism. To be a Christian is to be called to serve.