Our theme for the season of Easter this year is, Christ is Alive.  This does not simply point to a distant historical event. Nor does it refer to an ethereal presence of Jesus akin to a pleasant aroma or foul smell. It is easy to store Jesus safely in the future, anticipating his return, (but not too quickly, or he’ll spoil the fun). No, Christ is Alive means what it says. The bodily Christ is here, now, standing and serving and loving right in front of us.

Easter Sunday stands before us this weekend, and with it comes a decision: Will we be drawn into the moral vortex of vindication and punishment? Or will we rise to the resurrection vision of Jesus?

The vitality and health of a congregation is dependent on the Holy Spirit. It is hard to measure, but not impossible to see. During her recent visit, Bishop Amy Current entered Café Koinonia (where we have coffee and donuts) and was moved by how vibrant and connected people were as they shared this time of fellowship. She said it was an extension of our joyous worship. Simple gifts from God – water, wine, bread, coffee, donuts, and conversation – manifest unity, love, compassion, and hospitality.

With the NCAA basketball tournaments in full swing, I have found myself reflecting on the invaluable contributions of those who may not stand in the spotlight of greatness but hold the fabric of our communities together—the "sixth player" individuals, if you will.

First Published November 2019.

​​Once in a great while I write something that has “legs” (at least I think so).  I offer again a reflection on fear in an age of fear.  ​C.S. Lewis, in his book “Screwtape Letters,” took on the voice of a demon trying to spread evil in the world. The book is a series of letters instructing how best to advance the cause of Hell in the face of the Kingdom of Heaven.  

We don’t like to admit it, but so much of our self-worth gets wrapped up in external things—the opinions of others, our performance, our success, even our failures. We search for validation, hoping that if we achieve enough or do enough, we’ll finally be seen, finally be enough.

Over the last month we’ve received a steady stream of prayer requests related to the changes wrought by the new administration in Washington. Uncertainty, fear, and a sense of chaos seem pervasive for a lot of people. The prayer requests call for reason, reconciliation, and some way to find hope when the future seems so bleak.

This past Tuesday the appointed psalm for the morning was Psalm 12. As we gathered as staff to pray, I read these words: 
Help, O LORD, for there is no longer anyone who is godly;
the faithful have disappeared from humankind.
They utter lies to each other;
with flattering lips and a double heart they speak. (Psalm 12:1-2)

​There is a certificate that hangs on the wall of our church from the ELCA World Hunger Appeal. It thanks us for being “one of the most generous congregations in the ELCA.” Our mission partnership with the World Hunger Appeal is long and rich. That is for good reason.

When I reflect on what I hold dear—like birds in flight, beautiful mountains, vibrant coral reefs, or even the uncontainable laughter of my family — I can’t help but notice the threats on the horizon. I see the pollution and deforestation. But I also see the conflicts of this world. I see the injustices of this world that siphon off the beauty of this world.