"When God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth was complete chaos.” 
(Genesis 1:1-2 NRSVue) 
The creating God brings order out of chaos, life out of death, and light from darkness. Sometimes the way God works to order the chaos is spectacular, nearly miraculous. Look at the way cells in a body can coalesce into a living being, so complex and full of vitality. Look at the night sky and see the way that stars and galaxies move in a cosmic dance. Witness the way God can knit together people in a community that expresses love and grace to one another.  ​​

​“I just can’t watch or listen to the news anymore, Pastor. It is too much.” I nodded my head and said I knew exactly what he meant. I hear this from many of you, and feel it in my own heart, on a regular basis. The suffering and pain of this world is enormous. It is overwhelming. It has so many dimensions that one can’t figure out where to start. 

There is “a great book,” Saint Augustine says, “the very appearance of created things. Look above you! Look below you! Note it. Read it.” 

​Some nights I lie awake, wishing for sleep, because I’m fretting about you. I’m worrying about your health, hoping for your peace. I’m tossing and turning about what to teach and preach. I’m vexed about simply keeping track of your coming and going. Sometimes I try counting sheep as I fret about counting and tending the sheep.

Dear ones of the Southeastern Iowa Synod,  

I am writing to you today, at the beginning of Lent, a season when we journey together as the Body of Christ returning to God in repentance and focusing on practices of fasting, prayer, and charity. It so happens that the season of Lent often aligns with legislative sessions at the state and federal levels. I give thanks for elected leaders, their staff, and all engaged in public service. It is the practice of communities of faith to pray for “ the church universal, its ministry, and the mission of the Gospel; for the well-being of creation; for peace and justice in the world, the nations, and those in authority, the community; for the poor, oppressed, sick, bereaved, lonely, and all who suffer in body, mind, or spirit; for the congregation, and for special concerns, and for with thanksgiving for the faithful departed.” (ELW p. 105-106) I hope in the season of Lent and throughout the year, we pray for public servants, for those in authority, and for the complex world in which they govern.

​I’ve heard it a thousand times. I’ve said it myself. “The youth are the future of the church.” This notion makes a case for youth ministry rooted in institutional survival. If we don’t raise up young people to be faithful, then the church won’t exist – tomorrow. While I understand the thought process that makes us say this, I have come to the conclusion that it is a fallacy.

For the mountains may depart 
    and the hills be removed, 
but my steadfast love shall not depart from you, 
    and my covenant of peace shall not be removed, 
    says the Lord, who has compassion on you. 
~Isaiah 54:10 
​On Monday morning a 7.8 magnitude earthquake hit Turkey. There have been numerous aftershocks since that time. At this time, the death toll is over 19,000 people with many, many more injured. Countless homes have been leveled. It is estimated that over 300,000 people are displaced because of this natural disaster.  

All shall be well. All shall be well. Every manner of thing shall be well. 

So wrote the mystic Julian of Norwich; she was the head of an order of nuns in England some eight centuries ago. “All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.” Her words beautifully capture the spirit of Psalm 23. They, too, are words of assurance and comfort. 

​In the age of social media, there is added pressure to show the world our perfection. We post photos of the kids doing great things or showing how well they are doing in school. The birthday photos and the graduation pictures. The piano recitals and the awards that were hard earned.