500 Years New

Written by Maddie Lindahl

During the season of Reformation, I think I matched the church. In this year, and more specifically during Reformation Week, we have entered a period of reflection and newness. Taking a step back, we have been asking: now that it has been 500 years, how has that reformation shaped us? Others? What joy, anguish, disturbance and peace has it brought? How did we get there, and where do we go from here? As we ask these questions in the church, I too ask them of myself.

Just over a year ago I was so new. I was so new that I felt like it was my freshman year all over again. But it wasn’t. I was a junior, adopting a new major and transferring here because of it. Even though I grew up close to the cities, and have spent some time on campus, I still felt out of place. No other juniors seemed as reformed as I felt. Classrooms were new, professors were new, peers were new, GPA was old (apparently some things you just can’t reform). I grasped for familiarity, and though it took a while, I found some pieces.

Last year I felt so new because I was reforming myself. For two years I struggled to fit myself into the mold of my major: chemical engineering. Engineering is a wonderful thing that we depend on daily, but it was something I could just never find my fit in. I could never envision what I would be doing a year or two after graduation. This lack of direction made it difficult to find passion for my classes. Without passion or direction, I struggled. My grades dipped embarrassingly. The identity I had made for myself as an overachieving student vanished overnight. No, literally, it took one day of three midterm exams at once to wipe away most of my self-confidence. This defeat shook me to my core and I stayed in that shivering state for longer than I like to admit. I tried to disconnect because it felt better than staying connected to all that shame and disappointment. It took me a whole year from that event to determine that I needed out. I needed to get away from something that felt like it could only ever strap me to the idea that I was not good or passionate enough. I finally decided to change majors as a result and that new decision brought one thing: the most powerful, immense peace I have ever felt. It was such an overwhelming peace that I laughed out loud by myself in the middle of a campus coffee shop. And since then, I have been reforming, restructuring how I think of myself, and how to understand my value now that I am not a perfect student. Reformation to me has never been about perfection; it’s about a better understanding.

Reformation is so real, and newness is so real to me. I have made very intentional changes in my life to find newness, but newness has also found me in unexpected places. I haven’t yet stopped reflecting on my experiences as a freshman/sophomore and transfer student.

Now I am a senior in college about to graduate this spring and yet I stand here still feeling so new. I just got here. I think understanding that reformation is a path of continual process is important. Has the church ever really been static? And have our lives ever really been static? For me, the answer is no! We are so dynamic and so is our world and our church. The newness that we find every day in our lives speaks to this. So I ask you to pause for a moment and reflect on all this new, both in your life and the church.

What is new and frustrating; what is old that should be new? How could the newness be affecting others, or yourself? It has been 500 years since Martin Luther started the reformation, but I think that things still feel new. So I ask God to guide us through the new, to learn from where we came from, and let these reflections guide us on our paths going onward.

On Baptism, Renouncing Evil and Getting our Feet Wet

(Before you read this, please imagine the happiest baby getting baptized just minutes before this sermon was preached; and if you’d like, take a look at the Baptismal Service on p 227 of the ELCA’s standard hymnal, the red book in most ELCA Churches’ pews)

Matthew 14:22-33

Immediately he made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds. And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” He said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!” Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” When they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.” 

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight oh Lord.

Each November, Lutheran Campus Ministry, for whom I serve as pastor, and the Muslim Student Association, share a meal together. And I remember this past year’s meal so clearly because it was just a few days after the election. I was sitting with a couple of pragmatic 18 year old guys – one in the Carlson School of Business, and one an engineer in the College of Science and Engineering. I asked about the election, and how they were doing, and they kind of looked at me with blank faces, and said “Okay.” When I pressed further, they said, “all of the white liberal people we know seem so surprised that a presidential candidate could run, and win, on a platform of bigotry and hatred, but it doesn’t surprise me. This is my life.”

As I was scrolling through social media yesterday, following the Neo Nazi rally in Charlottesville, I noticed a similar post from a black friend of mine. Welcome, everyone, to the world we’ve been living in. It’s out in the open now. But let’s be clear, not much has changed.

Except now the sheets are off, and the hatred is in the wide, wide open.

And so what are we to do, thousands of miles from Charlottesville, but still existing in these same systems which breed, and have bred, hate and bigotry and violence for centuries? How do we stand against it? What do we stand for?

And what does this text that we are given for today have to say about any of it?

Can we pivot for a minute and take a look at this disciple Peter? He is such a human being, isn’t he? Trying and failing. Trying and failing. Earnest and adventurous, this fisherman was one of the first people to say ‘yes’ to Jesus’ call to follow him. Peter, the one with ‘little faith,’ the one who will betray Jesus three times when the going gets tough. He is a complicated character indeed.

And Peter, let me remind you, is the rock on which the church is built.

Sound like anyone you know? It’s liberating, isn’t it? Because if the church is built on Peter, then certainly that gives us some freedom to be human; to not have it all together or to be perfect: but still to keep trying, and to keep getting our feet wet…

When we baptize people, whether they’re six months old, or sixty years old;

We don’t baptize them into a call to perfect faith, or life, but instead we proclaim all of the messiness and mystery of life, God’s promise to be with us in that mix, and our commitment to the newly baptized to be bearers of God’s love as well. We renounce evil, and goodness knows there is evil in our country to be renounced today.

We proclaim that life is stronger than death, love is stronger than hate, and we claim that all of the practices of our faith are bound up in a call to something greater than ourselves, as individuals or as a church community.

It’s such a blessing to have a baptism on the same morning as this story that we hear today – because this story is so much like life, isn’t it. Both in what it teaches us about ourselves, and what it teaches us about God.

Let’s listen to the text again:

And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.” Peter answered him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” Jesus said, “Come.” So Peter got out of the boat, started walking on the water, and came toward Jesus. But when he noticed the strong wind, he became frightened, and beginning to sink, he cried out, “Lord, save me!”

Fear is all over in this text. Peter doesn’t just flounder because he takes his eyes off of Jesus, but because he grows afraid. And, that fear is justified, right? It’s a storm, for heaven’s sake, raging powerfully enough to sink the boat…

And so too, with our fear, right? Whether we fear the rise of the alt right, or the return of an illness, or a disappointing grade; or a disapproving loved one, or the future of our country; fear is no stranger to us. And it is certainly justified.

And so I wonder, what are you bringing with you into this sanctuary today? What is making you afraid?

Notice how Jesus responds to this very human emotion, which can engulf, overwhelm, make you feel like you can’t breathe…

Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him.

Jesus reaches out and grabs Peter. Jesus reaches out and catches you. Jesus must anticipate that with some adventurous and brave and whole hearted living there will come some lapses in trust, some storms that sweep us off our feet, some worthy risks that flatten us.

And it is there Christ meets us.

Oh you of little faith, come on. I’ve got you. It’s okay. Come on in the boat and dry off. We’ll try again tomorrow and I’ll be with you there too. If you can hear that phrase with compassion or even as a term of endearment, instead of rebuke, it becomes a welcome invitation into the waters of living and loving and following Jesus, which is quite the adventurous undertaking.

In baptism, all of our practices as a community point us towards this adventure. I like to call them the “so that’s,” a series of calls which are the vocation of Christian people everywhere:

so that we might learn to trust God,

To proclaim Christ in word and deed,

To care for others and the world God made,

And to work for justice and peace.

This life of faith is for something. Some days when you read the news, or look around your home, or scroll your Facebook feed, it will be obvious how it is you’re called to care, what it is you’re called to work for. Other days, the answers will feel much harder to come by. Maybe we don’t know exactly how it is we undo centuries of racism, or what it means to sit at the bedside of a loved one who is dying, but let us never forget that this life of faith is for something. And it’s hard, and it’s beautiful, and it is radically counter cultural.

This story is, perhaps tellingly, right on the heels of Jesus feeding 5,000 men, plus women and children. One of our greatest invitations as followers of Jesus is into an abundant life, which necessitates courage and risk.

Stepping outside of the boat to play and to splash, and to slip and to slide, and to try and to fail, as we follow Christ, and as we learn to love abundantly, to care for others and the world God made, to work for justice and peace – this can be an incredibly scary process. But brothers and sisters, hear this good news:

First of all, you are not God. I am not God. Thanks be to God. And you are not in it alone! God is with you. This community is with you.

This abundant life is fed by deep and abiding trust, but also playfulness, and joy. In the baptism that happened today, sweet Benjamin was grafted onto God’s time transcending family tree, with those that came before us, and those we will never meet, the wild and raucous communion of saints – Benjamin’s great great grandmother, and our complicated St. Peter, Julian of Norwich and Martin Luther King, Jr. And together, all of us, are invited to splash around in this baptismal call to love one another and this world, bravely and kindly and imperfectly. And when it goes wrong, as it often will, know that Christ meets you there, saying I’ve got you. It’s okay. Come on in the boat and dry off. We’ll try again tomorrow and I’ll be with you there too.

May it be so. Amen.

By Pastor Kate Reuer-Welton

Welcome to the University of Minnesota!

Hello amazing, wonderful, human!

I hope I find you in good health, a happy spirit, and excitement for the upcoming year. There will be a lot going on when you arrive on campus, and it will be beyond exciting to get started on your path to the “real world,” but let me tell you something in advance—there’s going to come a moment when you realize that you’re exhausted and you need a break.

I’m going to let you in on a little secret. It’s something that, I will admit, I had help discovering. It’s a group that is full of so much passion and energy but also creates the perfect time to finally Pause. From exploring your dorm and running around all three banks during Welcome Week to getting lost on campus and having to stop someone and say, “Excuse me but could you direct me to ___,” I know it will be a long, tiresome, exciting, funny, stressful adventure, and you’ll be in desperate need for some place to just stop, take a deep breath, and relax.

Look no further—Lutheran Campus Ministry, aka LCM, is the place for you! The first Wednesday night I went to worship, an hour service called Pause, was during a thunderstorm. It was maybe the third week into the school year and I arrived at Grace University Lutheran Church drenched and stressed out. I was still making the transition from living at home with my family to living at school. My pastor from my home church recommended LCM to me, and I hoped that in my time of need for familiarity, I could find a bit of peace.

I realized I was walking into an unfamiliar space by myself during the third week they had already been gathering, and I thought, “What were you thinking???” Nevertheless, I did it anyway. I was greeted at the door and from there to the sanctuary, I was welcomed at least four times before I took a seat next to a stranger. We ended up making conversation and the next thing I know, I found myself singing Mountain Vespers, which were already near and dear to my heart. It was so special to experience walking into somewhere brand new, not really knowing what to expect, but feeling right at home. After the service, we gathered downstairs to enjoy conversation and treats and I found myself signing up for the LCM fall retreat (with people I had now known for a total of two hours—and by the way, the retreat was a blast)!

I came to Pause hoping to find peace in a time of transition, but I found much more than that. I was welcomed into a community of grace and hope and curiosity. The night I decided to see what LCM was all about, I found something so special that once I found it, I never left.

May you find peace when you need it most and happiness always.

Gretchen Glewwe

Come Now, O Prince of Peace

“Come now, O Prince of Peace, make us one body.  Come, O Lord Jesus, reconcile your people. Come, Hope of Unity, make us one body. Come, O Lord Jesus, reconcile all nations.” –Evangelical Lutheran Worship Book, #247

I have found this song passing through my mind many times throughout this semester, and it seems even more appropriate now in the season of Advent than ever. Both personally and as a part of larger groups, we have felt much brokenness and division lately. Whether this pain stems from political uncertainty or hateful vandalism, we acknowledge our need for healing and unity. While we may tend to look to ourselves for answers or try to ignore the problem, this text points us upward. People are doing amazing and beautiful work to serve others and create bridges between peoples, but we also know that this work can only be perfected and completed through Christ. We turn to God of guidance in work, and God turns to us to do this work, and we rest in the knowledge that someday Christ will in fact “reconcile all nations.” In this season of advent we wait, we long, we hope, and we trust that something beautiful is coming.

Come Lord Jesus.

Written by Julie Wall (LCM Servant Leader)