“There are a few times in life when you leap up and the past that you’d been standing on falls away behind you, and the future you mean to land on is not yet in place…” (Ann Patchett)
This week’s Gospel and Second Reading prompt thinking about thresholds we cross in life. Most of us can recall those quiet or sudden shifts when the ground beneath us gives way, and only later do we realize how sharply life divided into a before and an after. Fiction writer Ann Patchett, in her 2019 novel The Dutch House, captures this with striking clarity — we often step into new terrain without recognizing its weight until much later. The vivid scenes in Matthew 3 and Acts 10 unfold in just this way. At the Jordan, Jesus enters the waters of baptism and rises into the fullness of his public calling as the Beloved Son. In Caesarea, the Roman centurion Cornelius receives a vision that will open the gospel to the Gentile world and redirect the early church. Both narratives remind us that God often meets us at these crossings. More on that in my reflections.
Important Update on the Blog!
With 5 Epiphany (8 February), we complete the three‑year Revised Common Lectionary cycle that began in 2023 as an offshoot of an Introduction to Bible Study course—an experiment that has grown into more than 150 posts. Thank you for reading and making this part of your weekly rhythm. Beginning with Transfiguration Sunday (15 February), the blog will turn the page. I will still be following the RCL, but with a cleaner, simpler look. Over the next month I’ll be experimenting with the layout and trying out a few ideas to make it easier to read and navigate. This shift reflects a renewed focus on digital ministry and more intentional use of online tools for learning and reflection. The blog can also serve as a hub for future Bible studies and adult education.
One key change: I will no longer use a mailing list. To keep receiving new posts, please subscribe directly to the blog (no cost). After you enter your email, WordPress will send a verification link; clicking it confirms your subscription and prevents spam sign‑ups. You will find a subscribe block at the bottom of the blog and a pop-up subscribe application in the lower right also. I encourage you to go ahead and do that now, if you wish to continue receiving the blog.
** If you are already a subscriber through WordPress, no need to redo that process!
A Simple Strategy for Reading
#1: What is something NEW you learned in the reading?
#2: What is something that caused you to REFLECT?
#3: What is something you can RELATE to prior knowledge?
#4: What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages.
The readings for the Baptism of Our Lord center on God’s chosen servant, empowered by the Spirit to bring justice, healing, and light to the nations. Psalm 29 echoes this by portraying the majestic voice of the Lord over the waters, revealing divine power that both shakes creation and blesses God’s people with peace. Acts 10 proclaims that Jesus’ ministry—launched at his baptism—reveals a God who shows no partiality, extending peace and liberation to all peoples through the Spirit’s anointing. In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus’ baptism becomes the defining threshold moment where the heavens open, the Spirit descends, and the divine voice declares him the Beloved Son, marking the beginning of his mission.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for The Baptism of Our Lord.” 2 January 2026.
Focus Readings from Matthew and Acts
The Gospel 13 Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. 14 John would have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” 15 But Jesus answered him, “Let it be so now, for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Then he consented. 16 And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw God’s Spirit descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17 And a voice from the heavens said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
My source for the Biblical texts is the Bible Gateway website, NRSVUE.
Questions for Discussion
Where do you see signs that God may already be at work ahead of you — in a person, situation, or community you hadn’t expected — and what would it take for you to “cross the threshold” as Peter did?
Both Jesus at the Jordan and Peter in Caesarea step into moments that redraw the boundaries of who belongs. What inherited lines — personal, cultural, or congregational — might God be inviting us to re‑examine today?
The Second Reading 34 Then Peter began to speak to them: “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, 35 but in every people anyone who fears him and practices righteousness is acceptable to him. 36 You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ—he is Lord of all. 37 That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: 38 how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. 39 We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree, 40 but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, 41 not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. 42 He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead. 43 All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.”
Reflection: “Where the River Meets the Doorway”
Vision of Corelius, the Roman Centurion by Gerbrand van den Eeckhout (Dutch, 1664)
Two stories, two encounters that change everything. This Sunday we stand at a threshold where Scripture shows God expanding what we imagine is possible. In Matthew 3, Jesus steps into the Jordan and receives his divine affirmation and calling. In Acts 10, Peter crosses the doorway of a Roman centurion’s home and discovers that the Spirit has already gone before him.These moments are separated by roughly a decade and by miles of geography — from the wilderness of Judea to the coastal city of Caesarea — yet they share the same disruptive grace. What began at the river now breaks open in the household of a Gentile officer, revealing a God who keeps pushing the early church beyond its inherited lines and into a wider, more surprising future.
John the Baptist Church (Greek Orthodox), Jesus’ Baptismal Site, River Jordan
Jesus’ baptism happens around the year 28 or 29 CE at Bethany beyond the Jordan — Al‑Maghtas — the wilderness site where he steps into the water and into the public ministry that will reshape the world. By the time Peter stands in Caesarea, entering the home of Cornelius, we are roughly a decade later — early to mid‑40s CE — and the Jesus movement has spread north from Jerusalem into Judea, Samaria, and the coastal regions. Peter is no longer the fisherman from Galilee; he now leads a rapidly growing and increasingly diverse community of believers. Then Cornelius enters the story — a Roman officer, a Gentile, and a representative of the very empire that executed Jesus — already guided by a vision to send for Peter. His household becomes the unlikely setting for a major turning point in Christian history. Here Peter delivers one of the earliest and clearest summaries of the Gospel. And when he steps across that threshold and sees the Spirit poured out on Gentiles, the early church learns that God’s promise is not confined by ethnicity, purity codes, or inherited boundaries. This moment doesn’t just widen the circle; it redraws the map of who belongs.
These two moments — one at the river, one at a Roman household — offer lessons that still press on the church today. First, they remind us that God often begins new work long before we recognize it, inviting us to step into movements of grace already unfolding around us. Second, they challenge us to cross our own thresholds of fear, habit, or inherited boundary, trusting that the Spirit is at work in people and places we might never have expected. These are not just ancient stories; they are invitations to discern where God is calling us to move next!
Soli Deo Gloria!
Musical Meditation: The Only Son from Heaven
Elisabeth Cruciger (1500-1535)
Elisabeth Cruciger (born von Meseritz) came from a Polish noble family. When persecution forced her parents to flee to Wittenberg, she settled there as well and married Caspar Cruciger in 1524. Caspar, the son of a Leipzig townsman, began studying in Wittenberg in 1522 and quickly became one of Martin Luther’s closest and most promising students—Luther even treated him like a son. Caspar later served as Rector of St. John’s School and preacher at St. Stephen’s Church in Magdeburg, and in 1528 he joined the Wittenberg faculty as a professor of theology at Luther’s urging.
Out of this same Wittenberg circle came Elisabeth’s hymn The Only Son from Heaven, the earliest known Lutheran hymn written by a woman. It appeared in 1524 in the Erfurt Enchiridion, one of the first evangelical hymnals, where it was the only hymn by a female author. After leaving her convent, Cruciger entered Luther’s household community, where close contact with the reformers shaped her theological voice. Sung to the tune HERR CHRIST, DER EINIG GOTTS SOHN, the hymn has endured for five centuries and remains in use across Christian traditions (ELW 309). The version I included is in German and replicates how the hymn may have originally sounded.
Note: This information was drawn from the Hymnary.Org website, 3 January 2026.
Lyrics (ELW)
1 The only Son from heaven, foretold by ancient seers, by God the Father given, in human form appears. No sphere His light confining, no star so brightly shining as He, our Morning Star.
2 O time of God appointed, O bright and holy morn! He comes, the King anointed, the Christ, the virgin-born; grim death to vanquish for us, to open heav’n before us, and bring us life again.
3 Awaken, Lord, our spirit to know and love You more, in faith, to stand unshaken in spirit, to adore; that we, through this world moving, each glimpse of heaven proving, may reap its fullness there.
4 O Father, here before You with God the Holy Ghost, and Jesus, we adore You, O pride of angel-host. Before You mortals lowly cry, “Holy, holy, holy, O blessed Trinity!”
This YouTube channelcreates electronic interpretations of Medieval, Renaissance, and Baroque music. The producer gathers MIDI files from various sources, edits them, and arranges them into virtual concerts, using digital tools to mimic the sound of early instruments like the shawm, crumhorn, viol, lute, and cornetto. The visuals draw on public‑domain artwork and manuscript images, and a voice‑simulation program supplies the sung texts. The creator continues to refine earlier uploads and occasionally adds new pieces inspired by pre‑1800 musical styles.
Prayer Reflection: Vision of the Future
Dutch Theologian Henri Nouwen (1932-1996)
“Often it is the dark forest that makes us speak about the open field. Frequently prison makes us think about freedom, hunger helps us to appreciate food, and war gives us words for peace. Not seldom are our visions of the future born out of the sufferings of the present and our hope for others out of our own despair. Only few “happy endings” make us happy, but often someone’s careful and honest articulation of the ambiguities, uncertainties and painful conditions of life gives us new hope. The paradox is indeed that new life is born out of the pains of the old.” (Henri Nouwen)
Inspired Prayer: O God, who meets us in the dark forests of our lives, teach us to trust that the very places of hunger, longing, and uncertainty can open our eyes to freedom, peace, and new possibility. Give us the courage to speak honestly of our pain and the grace to discover, even there, the quiet beginnings of new life. Amen.
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. We cross over into 1 Kings this week and are just past 1/4 completion. We have also read 2/3 of the Psalms at this point.
“A thing may be incredible and still be true; sometimes it is incredible because it is true.” ~ Herman Melville
Herman Melville remains my favorite fiction writer, and the aphorism above from his 1849 novel Mardi names a hard truth: we often turn away from what is real simply because it unsettles us. That insight still lands with force. Scholars often cast Melville as a man locked in a fierce struggle with Christian faith — unable to claim it fully, yet unable to release it. Many of us know that tension. Melville read the King James Bible with care, and its rhythms pulse through his novels, essays, and poems. Once you start listening for them, those biblical echoes become part of the pleasure of reading him. His mix of honesty, restlessness, and reverence keeps drawing me back. He refuses to let us settle. He urges us to look again. As we move through the Christmas season — its beauty, its strangeness, its long and layered history — we meet stories that still stretch our imaginations: a virgin birth, the incarnation, angels breaking open the night, a star pulling foreign seekers across deserts. It’s no surprise that many outside the Christian story view these claims with skepticism. Yet these exciting mysteries invite us to consider how truth can rise beyond what we think possible.
Update: Our Lectionary Journey
In case you want to sing the familiar song!
Since February of 2023, we have explored the church calendar, and I appreciate your ongoing interest in the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL)! One surprising discovery in preparing this post: the earliest Christians apparently didn’t celebrate Christmas. Their worship centered on Easter and the Resurrection, the heartbeat of their faith. The first observance of Jesus’ birth actually lived inside Epiphany — a single feast that once held his birth, the Magi’s visit, and his baptism together. Only in the fourth century, as Christianity gained legal standing in the Roman Empire, did Christmas emerge on December 25. Over time, shaped especially by German and northern European traditions, our modern holiday took on the form we now assume is ancient, though much of it isn’t. You can feel that older rhythm in the Twelve Days of Christmas, a pattern reaching back to the Council of Tours in 567 CE, when the church crafted a calendar to help believers linger with the mystery of Christ’s birth. These days carry us toward Epiphany, rooted in the Greek epiphaneia—appearance, manifestation, revelation. Historians might call it the moment when the hidden becomes visible; the church calls it a season when God’s presence breaks through in unexpected, life‑altering ways. From the Magi’s long journey to Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan, Epiphany invites us to revisit familiar stories and discover that they still have something new to reveal. I will explore that further in my reflections.
Finally, here’s a calendar consideration for this week. Across many Christian traditions, January 1 marks the commemoration of the Name of Jesus, historically tied to the eighth day after his birth, when—according to Luke—he was circumcised and formally given the name “Jesus.” This name, announced by the angel before his conception, means “Yahweh is salvation.” If inclined, here’s some further history on that commemoration.
A Simple Strategy for Reading
#1: What is something NEW you learned in the reading?
#2: What is something that caused you to REFLECT?
#3: What is something you can RELATE to prior knowledge?
#4: What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages.
The readings for the Second Sunday after Christmas share themes of divine restoration, incarnation, and grace. Jeremiah envisions God gathering and comforting a scattered people, promising joy even amid sorrow, while Psalm 147 celebrates God’s sustaining power in creation and providence. Ephesians lifts this vision higher, proclaiming that believers are chosen and blessed in Christ, redeemed and sealed by the Spirit as part of God’s eternal plan. John’s prologue crowns these themes, declaring that the Word became flesh, bringing light, truth, and grace into the world, so that all might receive adoption as children of God.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for 2 Christmas.” 26 December 2025.
Common Themes Among the Readings
The readings for the Epiphany of Our Lord reveal a God who draws all nations into the light of divine revelation. Isaiah and the psalm envision a world where kings and peoples are drawn to God’s radiance and justice, while Ephesians proclaims that this long‑hidden mystery — God’s inclusive grace — is now made known in Christ for all. Matthew’s story of the Magi embodies this universal invitation, showing that even those from distant lands recognize and honor the light that has come into the world.
Co-Pilot Prompt: “Comment on the themes from the Revised Common Lectionary for Epiphany.” 26 December 2025.
1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it. 6 There was a man sent from God whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8 He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9 The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and the world came into being through him, yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12 But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. 14 And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth. 15 (John testified to him and cried out, “This was he of whom I said, ‘He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ ”) 16 From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 17 The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God. It is the only Son, himself God, who is close to the Father’s heart, who has made him known.
My source for the Biblical text is the Bible Gateway website, NRSVUE.
Questions for Discussion
1. John opens his Gospel with the same words that begin Genesis: “In the beginning…” How does this deliberate echo of the creation story shape your understanding of who Jesus is—and how might returning to these ancient texts, again and again, deepen your own spiritual practice or sense of identity?
2. John describes Christ as the “true light” that shines in the darkness, a light the darkness cannot overcome. How do you see that light breaking into the world today—both in large, public ways and in small, personal ones—and what does it mean for us to bear witness to that light as John did?
Reflection: “The God Who Pitches a Tent Among Us“
Our faith, like history, never stands still. As a historian, I’ve learned that the stories we inherit keep unfolding each time we return to them, shaped by the questions we carry and the lives we’ve lived since our last encounter. That’s why the historian’s craft has always felt so close to the work of the church for me: we revisit these texts, turn them in the light, and let them speak with fresh force. The Revised Common Lectionary gives us that rhythm. Its three‑year cycle brings familiar passages back until they feel like old friends — steady companions who still manage to surprise us. And Christmas, perhaps more than any season, reveals how layered those surprises can be. As Pastor Jen reminded us on Christmas Eve, joy and ache often sit side by side—memories that warm us, memories that unsettle us, nostalgia for a church that once felt different, or quiet questions about what we believe.
The Christmas story familiar to us derives from Matthew and Luke — Mark and John do not include it. John begins his Gospel not with a manger or a genealogy but with a prologue that feels like stepping into eternity. (Sidebar: I often find it helpful to read these passages aloud — and that is certainly the case with John’s prologue!). Before shepherds, before angels, before Bethlehem, John takes us to the beginning—“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.” Clearly, John is echoing the creation accounts from Genesis — note this language: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.” I can almost hear the voice of Spock from Star Trek here — fascinating!
And then, in one breathtaking line, he brings that cosmic sweep down to earth: “And the Word became flesh and lived among us.” *The Greek verb translated “lived” is skenóō—literally, pitched his tent. John wants us to imagine God not as distant or abstract but as someone who moves into the neighborhood and chooses to dwell right in the middle of our ordinary, fragile lives. It’s an astonishing claim. The incarnation stretches our imaginations to the breaking point, yet our faith is grounded in it. Luther once said that if we actually saw the raw majesty of God, it would terrify us—crush us. That’s why Christ took on our humanity. God comes to us in a form we can bear, a presence we can approach, a face we can recognize. The tent is pitched not on some distant mountaintop but here, among us. And that makes John’s next observation all the more heartbreaking: “He came to his own, and his own did not accept him.” The NRSVue notes an alternate translation: “He came to his own home.” Christ came home — and home rejected him. Imagine the grief of that.
Mindy Misener
In her commentary on this text in The Christian Century, writer and Yale Divinity student Mindy Misener presses into this theme of rejection. She reminds us that the longing for home runs deep in Scripture and deep in human experience. Most of us, she writes, lose at least one home in our lifetime—sometimes gently, as time reshapes a place we once knew; sometimes violently, as homes are swept away by disaster, war, or the decisions of people far removed from the suffering they cause. Such losses, she notes, are nothing short of traumatic.
John tells us that Christ came home and was turned away. Yet that rejection did not stop him from making a home in this world, revealing God’s glory in the very place that resisted him. And many did receive him. John lingers on that word—receive—a physical verb before it becomes a theological one. The first disciples welcomed him not only with belief but with their lives, their tables, their presence. They said, in countless practical ways, welcome home. As Misener asserts, It’s tempting to let “home” drift into metaphor, but the child stumbling out of a bomb‑blasted city does not need a metaphor. She needs a home. And John’s prologue suggests that receiving Christ always pushes us toward making room for others—real people, real bodies, real dwellings.
So what lessons rise from this passage? Misener’s insight helps us see at least three, each one pressing into the heart of the Gospel. First, God knows the ache of homelessness—Christ himself steps into it. He enters a world that does not always make room for him, carrying in his own story the dislocation so many of us know. Second, God’s response to that ache is not abstraction but incarnation. The Word does not hover above human suffering; he pitches his tent among us, choosing proximity over distance, presence over detachment, solidarity over safety. And third, God invites us to embody that same nearness. To receive Christ is to create space where others can belong, to offer shelter where the world has offered none, to practice welcome in ways as concrete as the needs before us — meals shared, doors opened, dignity restored, homes rebuilt.
Soli deo Gloria!
* This reference is drawn from Pastor Elisabeth Johnson’s commentary on this text in Working Preacher from 2 January 2022. She does a beautiful job of explaining this text!
** I am indebted to Mindy Misener for this interpretation. Her article appears in the January 2026 issue of The Christian Century. She offers an interpretation of the Epiphany texts as well.
Musical Meditation: Of the Father’s Love Begotten
No hymn captures the opening sweep of John’s Gospel quite like Of the Father’s Love Begotten. Its roots reach all the way back to the 4th century, when the poet Prudentius wrote it as a way of expressing the same mystery John names in his prologue — the eternal Word through whom all things came to be. It’s a natural fit for this week’s Gospel reading — a companion to John’s vision, reminding us that the child in the manger is the One “begotten before all worlds.” In its simplicity and depth, the hymn invites us to stand with John in wonder as eternity steps into time. The version I’m sharing here offers its own distinctive interpretation of this old treasure. In the ELW, you’ll find it at #295. And, by the way, the poem originally had nine verses — the ones you see here are typically used in modern versions.
Of the Father’s love begotten, Ere the worlds began to be, He is Alpha and Omega, He the source, the ending He, Of the things that are, that have been, And that future years shall see, Evermore and evermore!
He is found in human fashion, Death and sorrow here to know, That the race of Adam’s children Doomed by law to endless woe, May not henceforth die and perish In the dreadful gulf below, Evermore and evermore!
O ye heights of heaven adore Him; Angel hosts, His praises sing; Powers, dominions, bow before Him, And extol our God and King! Let no tongue on earth be silent, Every voice in concert sing, Evermore and evermore!
Christ, to Thee with God the Father, And, O Holy Ghost, to Thee, Hymn and chant with high thanksgiving, And unwearied praises be: Honor, glory, and dominion, And eternal victory, Evermore and evermore!
ChurchFolk is a folk‑influenced worship collective that grew out of College Church in Wheaton, a historic congregation long intertwined with the Wheaton College community. Its members include musicians from the church’s staff and congregation.
Prayer Reflection: New Year’s Eve
Eternal God, you have placed us in a world of space and time, and through the events of our lives you bless us with your love. Grant that in the new year we may know your presence, see your love at work, and live in the light of the event that gives us joy forever — the coming of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.
Source: ELW. Lesser Festivals, Commemorations, and Occasions (2006). page 63.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. We cross over into 1 Kings this week and are just past 1/4 completion. We have also read 2/3 of the Psalms at this point.
“History is the story of God’s dealings with humanity.” (Augustine of Hippo)
Saint Augustine (354-430) by Philippe de Champaigne
Herman Astrup Larsen (1915-2003)
Next Sunday’s Gospel reading stirs a memory from long ago and far away. “So, what do you think, Rykken — does God work in history?” Dr. Herman Larsen, my first college history professor, lobbed that question at me in his cramped Old Main office as I stumbled through an oral report on Bainton’s biography of Martin Luther. I froze. Whatever I managed to say could not have impressed him. Larsen — Yale‑trained, sharp as a tack, and a campus legend — commanded a classroom like few others. He strode in, opened his notes, and immediately launched a barrage of questions from the previous session and the assigned reading. Sixty of us, mostly young men in the mid‑1970s, sat there praying he wouldn’t call our name, fearing we’d come up short. Only later did I learn that he and his wife had survived imprisonment by the Japanese during World War II while serving as missionaries in the Philippines — a backstory that lent his teaching a gravity we sensed but didn’t yet understand.
Historians are fascinated with contingency — the recognition that history is not a straight line but a web of possibilities. Change one decision, one accident, one moment of courage or cruelty, and the story shifts. The “what-ifs” of history — the counterfactuals — are certainly fascinating in the grand narrative of the past and in our own lives as well. Larsen, both historian and ordained pastor, insisted that God’s hand moved through those shifting possibilities. He pointed to Galatians 4:4 — “in the fullness of time, God sent forth his Son” — as evidence that divine purpose could inhabit even the fragile, unpredictable flow of human events. Echoing Augustine, his claim landed with surprising force, though I suspect I couldn’t take it in at the time. Fifty years later, his question returns as Matthew tells of a holy family on the run, pushed across borders by fear and violence. The Gospel for the First Sunday of Christmas reminds us that if God works in history, God works in this kind of history—raw, unsettled, shaped by choices and contingencies, threaded with both peril and unexpected rescue. Emmanuel does not wait for a stable world; he enters the one we actually have. I’ll explore that more in my reflections.
St. Stephen, the Martyr by Diego Polo
Thanks for your journey into this space again this week and Merry Christmas! We have several commemorations on a full calendar this week: Stephen, Deacon and Martyr, on Friday (I was named for both Paul and Stephen and Stephen’s martyrdom, of course, is connected to Paul, something my father made sure I understood), John, Apostle and Evangelist on Saturday, and The Holy Innocents, Martyrs, on Sunday. Their story derives from Matthew’s Gospel, something I will include in my reflection. I have also included the hauntingly beautiful carol, In the Bleak Midwinter, if you want a few moments of peace at some point this week. Finally, I have posted the fifth and final excerpt of the interview with Pastor Jen regarding the Malawi trip from October. Enjoy!
A Simple Strategy for Reading
#1: What is something NEW you learned in the reading?
#2: What is something that caused you to REFLECT?
#3: What is something you can RELATE to prior knowledge?
#4: What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages.
Give it a try this week!
This Week’s Readings
Christmas Eve 24 December
Isaiah 9: 2-7 Psalm 96 Titus 2: 11-14 Luke 2: 1-14 (15-20)
Christmas Day II 25 December
Isaiah 62: 6-12 Psalm 97 Titus 3: 4-7 Luke 2 (1-7) 8-20
Connections Between Readings and Common Themes for 1 Christmas
The readings for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and the First Sunday of Christmas form a kind of widening arc: Christmas Eve leans into anticipation and proclamation, Christmas Day celebrates the mystery of the Word made flesh, and 1 Christmas turns our attention to what that incarnation means for the world God loves. The 1 Christmas texts share a striking common thread: God’s fierce, protective solidarity with humanity. Isaiah 63 recalls God’s steadfast mercy and saving presence; Psalm 148 summons all creation into praise because God’s glory has drawn near; Hebrews 2 insists that Christ becomes fully human in order to break the power of fear and death; and Matthew’s account of the flight into Egypt shows that the incarnation enters the world’s danger, injustice, and displacement rather than avoiding it. Together, these readings reveal a God who not only comes among us but travels with us into the hardest places, turning vulnerability into redemption and inviting all creation to join the song of deliverance.
Prompt for Co-Pilot: “Provide a one paragraph explanation of the relationship between the readings for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and 1 Christmas and also an exploration of the common themes among the 1 Christmas Readings.” 20 December 2025.
Focus Reading from Matthew’s Gospel
Adoration of the Magi, c. 1487, by Ghirlandaio
Note: For context, here is a short summary of the preceding verses (2-12): The Magi arrive in Jerusalem seeking the newborn king after seeing his star rise in the east. Herod, disturbed by their news, gathers the chief priests and scribes to learn where the Messiah is to be born and secretly urges the Magi to report back to him. Guided again by the star, the Magi travel to Bethlehem, find the child with Mary, and offer gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they depart for their own country by another road.
13 Now after they had left, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, “Get up, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.” 14 Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night, and went to Egypt 15 and remained there until the death of Herod. This was to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.” 16 When Herod saw that he had been tricked by the magi, he was infuriated, and he sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had learned from the magi. 17 Then what had been spoken through the prophet Jeremiah was fulfilled:
18 “A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.”
19 When Herod died, an angel of the Lord suddenly appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt and said, 20 “Get up, take the child and his mother, and go to the land of Israel, for those who were seeking the child’s life are dead.” 21 Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to the land of Israel. 22 But when he heard that Archelaus was ruling Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there. And after being warned in a dream, he went away to the district of Galilee. 23 There he made his home in a town called Nazareth, so that what had been spoken through the prophets might be fulfilled, “He will be called a Nazarene.”
Reflection: Home By Another Way
“Massacre of the Innocents” Léon Cogniet (1794-1880)
As a child, I was captivated by the Magi — mysterious travelers from the east, following a star across deserts and borders to kneel before a child. Part of my intrigue owed to the fact that my parents had an LP of Amahl and the Night Visitorsthat I listened to over and over again. Their story felt full of wonder: strange gifts, strange dreams, strange courage. But Matthew places their visit right on the edge of danger. Their quiet act of homage becomes the turning point in the narrative, for once they slip away by another road, Herod’s fear hardens into violence (James Taylor wrote a great song about this!). And so, in the days after Christmas, Matthew’s Gospel turns us from angels and shepherds toward a far harsher reality. An angel warns Joseph in a dream to take Mary and the child and flee to Egypt, and they escape just before Herod unleashes violence on Bethlehem’s children. Historians note that this event appears only in Matthew and debate whether it occurred exactly as described, yet the story rings true to Herod’s character and to the long pattern of rulers using violence to protect their power. Matthew frames it with Jeremiah’s haunting line: “Rachel weeping for her children… because they are no more.” The French artist Cogniet captured the horror in his famous painting — the terror in a mother’s eyes speaks volumes.
And, that ancient cry feels amazingly modern. I think back to the shooting at Abundant Life Christian School here in Wisconsin one year ago — one more entry in the long, heartbreaking list of school shootings in our country. And this week, again. A mass shooting at Brown University during a study session left two students dead and nine others wounded. And the world watched in grief as gunmen opened fire at a Hanukkah celebration on Sydney’s Bondi Beach, killing fifteen people, including a 12‑year‑old child. Once again, families ran for safety; once again, parents searched for their children; once again, Rachel wept.
In my forty‑one years of full‑time teaching, the hardest days were always those marked by school shootings somewhere in our state or nation—moments that sent a chill through the ordinary rhythms of the classroom. Active‑shooter drills gradually became part of our normal routine, and I often wondered what it meant for the psyche of our children to rehearse for unthinkable violence. Even now, I feel that same hollow ache each time tragedy erupts—the barricades, the hiding places, the surreal sense that we are preparing for something that should never happen. Matthew does not shield us from this reality. He tells the truth: the Incarnation unfolds in a world marked by fear, displacement, and violence. And yet this is precisely the world into which Christ comes — a world where families flee danger, where innocents suffer, where darkness seems to have the upper hand, and where God still chooses to dwell with us.
The March of the Wise Men by Leopold Kupelwieser, 1825
Let’s ponder this as we approach the powerful Christmas stories we will hear this week: As Christians, we walk in two worlds: the temporal one, where our civic engagement and moral clarity matter deeply, and the eternal one, where God’s promise of justice and peace anchors our hope. Holding both has never been easy. But Matthew’s story of the Magi, the warning dream, and the family’s flight reminds us that God has always been at work in history — quietly, persistently — guiding people toward life, even when the road bends unexpectedly. The Magi went home by another way, and so do we, trusting that God still works in the shadows, still protects the vulnerable, still leads us toward safety and light. May we listen for the angel’s voice, stand with those who flee danger, refuse to grow numb to Rachel’s tears, and trust that even in these troubled times, the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
Soli deo Gloria!
** Much has been written about the Massacre of the Innocents and whether or not it actually occurred as reported in Matthew. If interested, this author offers a thorough analysis of the story in all its complexity.
Musical Meditation: In the Bleak Midwinter
T.S. Eliot’s Journey of the Magi begins with that stark admission: “a cold coming we had of it… the worst time of the year for a journey.” Those of us who live in northern climates know exactly what he meant. Winter can feel endless—dark, biting, and wearying. Christina Rossetti wrote A Christmas Carol in 1872 out of this same wintry imagination. Her poem isn’t about Bethlehem’s climate but about the coldness and poverty of the human heart into which Christ is born. Years later, Gustav Holst set her words to the haunting melody we know today simply by its first line — In the Bleak Midwinter. Read alongside Eliot, Rossetti’s carol speaks to all of us who know real winter — the long nights, the frozen landscapes, the quiet waiting. Together they remind us that God enters our own bleak midwinters and asks only the offering of the heart. Revelation often comes in winter, and the light we seek is born in the cold. Here’s an excellent version of the familiar hymn from Tenebrae, a choral group from Great Britain.
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign. In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day, Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay; Enough for Him, whom angels fall before, The ox and ass and camel which adore.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air; But His mother only, in her maiden bliss, Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.
Tenebrae is a professional choral ensemble based in London, founded in 2001 by former King’s Singer Nigel Short. Known for its exceptional precision, rich sound, and dramatic performance style, the group performs a wide repertoire ranging from Renaissance polyphony to contemporary works. Tenebrae has toured internationally, recorded extensively, and is widely regarded as one of Britain’s leading vocal ensembles.
Prayer Reflection: A Vision of a World Made New
Eleanor Roosevelt (1944)
Eleanor Roosevelt’s prayer A Vision of a World Made New emerged from her work at the United Nations after World War II, where she helped guide the creation of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Though she wasn’t conventionally religious, her Episcopal upbringing and her deep trust in the dignity of every person shaped both her public leadership and her private devotions; her son remembered that she prayed these words every night. What moves me is how her prayer gathers moral imagination, compassion, and responsibility into a single plea—that God would ‘show us a vision of a world made new.’ It has become one of my favorite prayers, and it’s a good one for all of us to return to often.
Our Father, who has set a restlessness in our hearts and made us all seekers after that which we can never fully find, forbid us to be satisfied with what we make of life. Draw us from base content and set our eyes on far off goals. Keep us at tasks too hard for us that we may be driven to Thee for strength. Deliver us from fretfulness and self-pitying; make us sure of the good we cannot see and of the hidden good in the world. Open our eyes to simple beauty all around us and our hearts to the loveliness men hide from us because we do not try to understand them. Save us from ourselves and show us a vision of the world made new. Amen.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK:
1. Matthew places the wonder of the Magi right next to the violence of Herod. How does holding these two realities together shape your understanding of the Incarnation and the world Christ enters? 2. Matthew’s story includes dreams, warnings, flight, and the weeping of Rachel. Where do you see echoes of this story in our world today, and how might Christians faithfully “walk in two worlds” as people of both realism and hope?
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. We have reached the 25% mark and beyond this week!
Reflections On Malawi: Part 5
Pastor Jenny Hatleli
Since 1999, the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Malawi have been companions in ministry. Recently, several NW Synod representatives, including Pastor Jen Hatleli and Patti Whitworth from ELC, traveled there and met with many of our partners in the region. During Advent, I am posting excerpts from my interview with her about the trip. In our final exchange, I asked Pastor Jen how she felt the Malawi trip would impact her approach to ministry going forward.
“Advent is the season of remembering, expecting, and waiting for the coming of Jesus into the world. But we cannot do so through the lens of historical or religious amnesia. Only when you begin to take into account the historical specificity of what leads to Advent are you truly able to understand the depth and breadth of this event. Only by remembering the history you might prefer to forget can you grapple with the wonder and beauty of the season.” (Dr. Yolanda Pierce)
History is never just what happened “back there”; it is how we choose to remember. And, of course, we spend a good deal of time arguing over conflicting memories. In her December Christian Century article, Advent in all its Terror, Dr. Yolanda Pierce of Vanderbilt Divinity School confronts the raw realities of Jesus’ birth—poverty, political oppression, a refugee family desperate for shelter—and insists that memory matters, as unsettling as that may be. God entered our terror-filled world at precisely that moment and in that place, overturning worldly expectations of what a savior-king should look like — the word AWESOME comes to mind, an overused word in our day that in its origin meant something that inspires fear, dread, and great reverence. As the Fourth Sunday of Advent arrives and anticipation reaches its height, we are called not to sentimental escape but to courageous remembrance. The miracle of Advent is God dwelling with us in the midst of terror, reminding us that divine presence accompanies both suffering and hope. Much to think about.
Katie Luther (1499-1552)
Thanks for coming into this space again this week, and for your continued interest in tackling the Lectionary! It’s hard to believe that Christmas is just around the corner. On Saturday, we commemorate Katie von Bora Luther, renewer of the church and wife of Martin, who died 473 years ago (20 December 1552). Her story is fascinating. Raised in convents from childhood, she escaped in 1523 with several other nuns—famously hidden in herring barrels—with Luther’s help. You can’t make that up! Two years later, she married Luther in 1525, and together they established a model Protestant household, raising six children while she managed the Black Cloister with remarkable skill in farming, brewing, and hospitality. (Sidebar: The Black Cloister was originally an Augustinian monastery in Wittenberg, later transformed into Martin Luther’s family home and the first Protestant parsonage). After Luther’s death in 1546, Katie endured hardship during the Schmalkaldic War, eventually dying in Torgau in 1552, remembered as a stabilizing force in Luther’s life and a significant figure in the Reformation.
My reflections this week will focus on the Old Testament prophecy and its connection to the Gospel. The musical meditation, Before the Marvel of this Night, captures the message of Advent well and I hope you enjoy it. I have also included the fourth installment of the interview I did with Pastor Jen Hatleli regarding the Malawi trip from October.
My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.
The readings for the Fourth Sunday of Advent share the theme of God’s faithful presence breaking into human history through promise and fulfillment. Isaiah speaks of a sign given to God’s people—a child born of a young woman—pointing to divine intervention and hope. Psalm 80 echoes this longing with a communal cry for restoration, asking God to “let your face shine” so that salvation may come. In Romans and Matthew, the promise is revealed in Jesus Christ, whose birth fulfills prophecy and embodies Emmanuel, “God with us,” assuring that God’s saving work is both ancient and ever new.
“Describe the common themes among the readings for Advent 4 Sunday.” Copilot, 12 December 2025, Copilot website.
A Strategy for Reading
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages. Give it a try this week!
What is something NEW you learned?
What is something that made you REFLECT?
What is something that RELATES to prior knowledge?
What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
Focus Passages: Isaiah and Matthew
Isaiah 7: 10-16
10 Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz, saying, 11 “Ask a sign of the Lord your God; let it be deep as Sheol or high as heaven.” 12 But Ahaz said, “I will not ask, and I will not put the Lord to the test.” 13 Then Isaiah said, “Hear then, O house of David! Is it too little for you to weary mortals that you weary my God also? 14 Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel. 15 He shall eat curds and honey by the time he knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good. 16 For before the child knows how to refuse the evil and choose the good, the land before whose two kings you are in dread will be deserted.
St. Matthew Inspired by an Angel (Rembrandt, 1661)
Matthew 1: 18-25
18 Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be pregnant from the Holy Spirit. 19 Her husband Joseph, being a righteous man and unwilling to expose her to public disgrace, planned to divorce her quietly. 20 But just when he had resolved to do this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. 21 She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” 22 All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: 23 “Look, the virgin shall become pregnant and give birth to a son and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.” 24 When Joseph awoke from sleep, he did as the angel of the Lord commanded him; he took her as his wife 25 but had no marital relations with her until she had given birth to a son, and he named him Jesus.
Reflections: “A King Refused, A Carpenter Obeyed”
King Ahaz by Guillaume Rouillé (16th Century French woodcut)
As has been the case throughout Advent, I am intrigued by the connection between Old Testament prophecy and the story of God breaking into our humanity. This week’s Old Testament reading resoundingly echoes in the Gospel of Matthew. Seven hundred years before Christ — picture it, like us looking back to the year 1295 — Judah, the Southern Kingdom, was trembling. King Ahaz, a young ruler from the line of David, faced a dire threat: Israel and Aram had joined forces to pressure Judah into rebellion against Assyria. Isaiah urged Ahaz to trust God and even invited him to ask for a sign of God’s protection. But Ahaz refused. Why? Because he had already decided to rely on Assyria instead of God. Listening to Isaiah would have meant abandoning his political plan, and his heart was closed to God’s promise. Still, God gave the sign anyway: “The young woman is with child and shall bear a son and shall name him Immanuel.” For Ahaz, this prophecy had an immediate horizon. It pointed perhaps to a child born in his own time—a living symbol that God’s presence would remain with His people and that the threat from Israel and Aram would soon fade. But the prophecy also carried a second horizon, stretching far beyond Ahaz’s day. Seven centuries later, Matthew tells us that these same words find their ultimate fulfillment in the birth of Jesus—the true Immanuel,“God with us.” What Ahaz could not see, the Gospel reveals: God’s faithfulness endures across generations, and the child born in Bethlehem is not just a temporary sign of reassurance but the lasting sign that God is with His people forever.
The Holy Family (A.I. generated, 2025)
So, fast forward those seven centuries. Matthew tells us of another descendant of David, Joseph. Like John the Baptist, I fear I have never given Joseph enough attention in the exploration of these events. He too arrived at an existential moment. Mary, his betrothed, was found to be with child. His instinct was caution, compassion, a quiet divorce. But then — like Ahaz — Joseph was confronted with a divine word. Unlike Ahaz, Joseph chose trust. He obeyed the angel, embraced Mary, and named the child Jesus, “Yahweh saves.”Do you hear the echo? Isaiah’s promise of Immanuel — God with us — fulfilled in the child born of Mary. The sign given to Ahaz in fear becomes the sign embraced by Joseph in faith. One king refused, one carpenter obeyed.
And friends, here we stand on the threshold of Christmas. The question is not whether God will be faithful — He already is. The question is whether we will respond like Ahaz, turning to our own strategies, or like Joseph, opening our lives to God’s mystery. So as Advent closes, let Joseph be our guide. Ordinary, quiet, righteous Joseph—who shows us that God’s plan unfolds not in the halls of power but in the hearts of those willing to say yes.
Soli deo Gloria!
Musical Meditation: “Before the Marvel of this Night”
Before the Marvel of This Night by Jaroslav Vajda and Carl Schalk is relatively new. The text imagines the angels rehearsing their song of peace, bliss, and love before announcing Christ’s birth. Its refrain — “Sing peace, sing peace, sing Gift of Peace” — echoes the Advent longing for Christ as the fulfillment of God’s promise. On the Fourth Sunday of Advent, when the church leans into the nearness of Christmas, the hymn’s imagery of angels preparing to “tear the sky apart with light” mirrors our own anticipation of God’s breaking into history. In this way, the hymn becomes a fitting meditation for Advent’s final Sunday, inviting worshippers to join the angelic chorus in proclaiming peace and love as the world awaits the marvel of Christ’s coming.
THE LYRICS
1 Before the marvel of this night, adoring, fold your wings and bow; then tear the sky apart with light and with your news the world endow. Proclaim the birth of Christ and peace, that fear and death and sorrow cease: sing peace; sing peace; sing gift of peace; sing peace; sing gift of peace!
2 Awake the sleeping world with song: this is the day the Lord has made. Assemble here, celestial throng, in royal splendor come arrayed. Give earth a glimpse of heavenly bliss, a teasing taste of what they miss: sing bliss; sing bliss; sing endless bliss; sing bliss; sing endless bliss!
3 The love that we have always known, our constant joy and endless light, now to the loveless world be shown, now break upon its deathly night. Into one song compress the love that rules our universe above: sing love; sing love; sing God is love; sing love; sing God is love!
The Choir of the Cathedral and Abbey Church of St. Alban is a distinguished English cathedral choir made up of boy and girl choristers alongside professional adult Lay Clerks, known for its international tours, recordings, and premieres of new works. Based at St Albans Cathedral, the oldest site of continuous Christian worship in Britain and dedicated to St Alban, England’s first Christian martyr, the choir’s music is deeply rooted in this historic setting. Through its blend of tradition and innovation, the choir embodies the cathedral’s mission to unite heritage and living faith in song.
“Identify and describe The Cathedral Choir of St. Alban” Copilot, 14 December 2025, Copilot website.
Prayer Reflection: “Recognizing the Lord” (Nouwen)
Henri Nouwen (1932–1996) was a Dutch Catholic priest, theologian, and prolific spiritual writer whose work continues to inspire millions worldwide. After teaching psychology and pastoral theology at institutions such as the University of Notre Dame, Yale Divinity School, and Harvard Divinity School, he left academia to join the L’Arche Daybreak community in Ontario, where he lived among and ministered to people with intellectual disabilities. Nouwen authored over 39 books—including The Wounded Healer and The Return of the Prodigal Son—that explore themes of vulnerability, prayer, community, and God’s unconditional love, blending psychology with spirituality in a way that made faith deeply accessible. His legacy lies in his ability to speak with honesty and compassion about the human struggle for belonging and the experience of being God’s beloved.
“Be alert, be alert, so that you will be able to recognize your Lord in your husband, your wife, your parents, your children, your friends, your teachers, but also in all that you read in the daily newspapers. The Lord is coming, always coming. Be alert to his coming. When you have ears to hear and eyes to see, you will recognize him at any moment of your life. Life is Advent; life is recognizing the coming of the Lord.”
Source: The Henri Nouwen Society Website. Daily E-Meditations, 14 December 2025.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK:
1. Ahaz refused God’s sign because he trusted in political power instead of divine promise. What are some “Assyrias” we turn to today—strategies, alliances, or securities—that keep us from trusting God’s presence in our own crises?
2. Joseph, unlike Ahaz, chose to trust and obey, even when God’s plan disrupted his expectations. How might Joseph’s quiet faithfulness inspire us to respond differently when God’s call feels uncertain or costly?
THIS WEEK’S BIBLE 365 READING CHALLENGE
Monday 15 December: 1 Samuel 1-3 Tuesday 16 December: 1 Samuel 4-8 Wednesday 17 December: 1 Samuel 9-12 Thursday 18 December: 1 Samuel 13-14 Friday 19 December: 1 Samuel 15-17 Saturday 20 December: 1 Samuel 18-20 Sunday 21 December: 1 Samuel 21-24
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.
Reflections On Malawi: Part 4
Pastor Jenny Hatleli
Since 1999, the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Malawi have been companions in ministry. Recently, several NW Synod representatives, including Pastor Jen Hatleli and Patti Whitworth from ELC, traveled there and met with many of our partners in the region. During Advent, I am posting excerpts from my interview with her about the trip. In our fourth exchange, Jen shared information about the connection between the Northwest Synod of the ELCA and the ELC of Malawi. We also talked about what Pastor Jen learned about hope and perseverance from the people she interacted with in southern Africa.
JOY has been much on my mind this week. The word itself reaches back to Latin, where gaudia conveys gladness and delight. From that same root comes gaudete — “rejoice” — the word that gives Gaudete Sunday its name. This third Sunday of Advent takes its title from the opening of the ancient introit, Gaudete in Domino semper (“Rejoice in the Lord always”). Emerging in the early centuries of the Church when Advent was observed as a penitential season akin to Lent, this Sunday offered a liturgical pause of joy and anticipation amid the somber preparation, marked by rose‑colored vestments and candles instead of the usual purple. Historically, it reminded the faithful that the coming of Christ was not only a call to repentance but also a promise of joy. Today, Gaudete Sunday continues to be celebrated across Christian traditions as a moment of light breaking into Advent’s darkness—often symbolized by the rose candle on the Advent wreath—and serves as a reminder that even in waiting, the Church rejoices in the nearness of God’s presence.
Malawi children exuding JOY!
Thanks for visiting this space again today and for your continuing interest in studying the Bible and exploring the Revised Common Lectionary! We have two commemorations on the ELCA calendar this week: Lucy, the martyr (d. 304) on 13 December and John of the Cross, renewer of the church (d. 1591) on 14 December.
My reflections for 3 Advent will focus on the Matthew’s Gospel and John the Baptist. I will also offer a homily at ELC on Sunday regarding John’s story and his connection to the season of Advent. In addition, I have included a hauntingly beautiful piece of music from Iceland and the third excerpt of an interview with Pastor Jen Hatleli of ELC regarding her experience in Malawi, Africa in October of 2025.
NOTES REGARDING SOURCING:
** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections. ** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools.
** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.
Common Themes Among the Readings
3 Advent Readings
Isaiah 35:1-10 Psalm 146:5-10 James 5:7-10 Matthew 11:2-11
My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.
The readings for Gaudete Sunday share a common theme of joy and hope breaking into the midst of waiting and struggle. Isaiah envisions the desert blossoming and the weak strengthened, while the psalm proclaims God’s justice for the oppressed and care for the vulnerable. James urges patient endurance, reminding believers that the Lord’s coming is near, and Matthew highlights Jesus as the fulfillment of prophetic promises, bringing healing and good news to the poor. Together, these texts invite the faithful to rejoice with confidence that God’s saving presence is already at work, even as they await its fullness.
“Describe the common themes among the readings for Gaudete Sunday.” Copilot, 6 December 2025, Copilot website.
A Strategy for Reading
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages. Give it a try this week!
What is something NEW you learned?
What is something that made you REFLECT?
What is something that RELATES to prior knowledge?
What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
Focus Passage: Matthew 11:2-11
2 When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples 3 and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” 4 Jesus answered them, “Go and tell John what you hear and see: 5 the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, those with a skin disease are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. 6 And blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.” 7 As they went away, Jesus began to speak to the crowds about John: “What did you go out into the wilderness to look at? A reed shaken by the wind? 8 What, then, did you go out to see? Someone dressed in soft robes? Look, those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces. 9 What, then, did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet. 10 This is the one about whom it is written,
‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’
11 “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist, yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.
Pastors Tom Heyd, A.M. Rusten, and Thor Rykken lined up left to right, hammering away at wooden crosses for Lent back in the 1960s. This week’s Gospel reading catapulted me straight back to that era, when Rusten thundered out a sermon on “John the Baptizer.” With his booming voice and thick Norwegian brogue, he didn’t just preach—he practically summoned John into the sanctuary. Anyone who knew Rusten remembers him vividly; a strong personality filled with the Holy Spirit!
Reflections: “John the Baptizer — Bridging the Covenant”
The Execution of Saint John the Baptist by Gandolfi (Italian, c. 1770)
John the Baptist has jolted me awake — in my mind I am standing with the crowd along the Jordan River trying to figure this guy out! For years I kept him at the edges, a minor figure overshadowed by Christ. But the more I study, I realize I need to spend more time with him. John storms into the wilderness, thunders repentance, plunges people into the Jordan, and then vanishes—silenced by Herod’s brutal command. Mark’s Gospel paints the most harrowing picture of John’s demise (Mark 6: 14-29): Herod fears John’s righteousness yet crumbles under Herodias’s grudge and her daughter’s demand. The scene exposes Herod’s weakness and John’s fearless courage. We are left with that gruesome image of John’s head on a platter. This week, however, Matthew refuses to let me dismiss him. Jesus declares John more than a prophet—the one who stands at history’s hinge, bridging the old covenant and the new, pointing us straight to the kingdom breaking in.
Saint John the Baptist by Boulogne (French, c. 1630)
In Matthew 11:2–11, we encounter John the Baptist in prison—his body worn down, his spirit unsettled. The prophet who once thundered with conviction now wrestles with doubt. He sends his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” It is a profoundly human moment: the fiery herald of repentance now questioning in the shadows of confinement. (Perhaps John is questioning his cousin’s movement from the wilderness into the world — his association with “worldly people”). As is so often the case, Jesus does not respond with a simple “yes” or “no.” Instead, he points to the evidence of God’s reign breaking into the world: the blind see, the lame walk, lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor receive good news. In other words, the promises of Isaiah are being fulfilled before their eyes. Then Jesus turns to the crowd and honors John. He asks them directly: “What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed shaken by the wind? A man dressed in fine clothes? No—you went to see a prophet.” These questions cut to the heart. John was not a reed bending to public opinion, nor a courtier seeking comfort and status. He was a prophet—unyielding, uncompromising, and chosen to prepare the way. And yet, Jesus adds a startling twist: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women there has not risen anyone greater than John the Baptist; yet whoever is least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” John stands at the threshold of the kingdom, pointing toward it, but the kingdom itself is breaking in with a new kind of power—one not built on human greatness but on God’s grace. Even the least who enter into this kingdom share in a reality greater than John’s prophetic mission, because they live within the fullness of what Christ brings.
Saint John the Baptist Bearing Witness by Carracci (Italian, c. 1600)
And that is why John the Baptizer is the perfect symbol of Advent. The word itself means “coming” or “arrival,” and John embodies that threshold moment. He points beyond himself, preparing the way, reminding us that the kingdom is near. Advent is not only about waiting—it is about waiting with urgency, with repentance, with hope. John’s life tells us that joy and judgment, longing and fulfillment, are woven together in the coming of Christ. He is not a footnote; he is the voice crying out in the wilderness, the herald of Advent joy. But his cry is not only for the crowds of the Jordan River—it echoes still. If John’s voice were to reach us today, what paths would we need to straighten, what valleys would we need to lift, so that Christ might truly arrive in our midst?
Soli Deo Gloria and Gaudete in Domino semper!
Note: I am indebted to Fr. Morgan Reed of the Corpus Christie Anglican for his interpretation of this week’s Gospel. You can read his full homily here. In addition, I utilized interpretations of John the Baptist offered by Garry Wills in his 2006 book, What Jesus Meant.
We will explore this passage further in our Sunday Lectionary group using the discussion questions included in the Faithful Conversations update below.
Musical Meditation: “Fljótavík” (Sigur Rós)
As we enter the season of Advent, we are invited to see ourselves as travelers moving through wilderness and storm, longing for shelter and light. Sigur Rós’s “Fljótavík,” named after a remote bay in Iceland, tells of a journey ashore, a struggle across sand and stone, and the discovery of a fragile hut where rest is found while the storm rages outside. The music mirrors this imagery—spare at first, then swelling like waves—until it settles into quiet memory. This song, like the season, is about waiting with trust: remembering storms, yet resting in hope that light will break into the darkness. Voces8 offers a powerful interpretation of it which I have included here.
Sigur Rós is an Icelandic post‑rock band formed in Reykjavík in 1994, known for their ethereal sound. Their name means “Victory Rose.” Singing in Icelandic and their invented “Hopelandic” language, they rose to international fame and have sold millions of albums worldwide. Sigur Rós remains celebrated for turning Iceland’s landscapes and spirit into sound that feels both deeply local and universally transcendent.
The original lyrics for Fljotavik are in Icelandic. Here is the translation:
We look over the rudder Cut off the sea We sail by the mast Stretch the sails We steer towards the bridge
We sail ashore Up on the large rocks and the sand We wade ashore What a mess
There I found myself Endlessly thanking Sheltered in a makeshift house And we slept As the storm died down
VOCES8 is a British vocal ensemble formed in 2005. Admired not only for their artistry but also for their role as cultural ambassadors, they bring choral music to diverse audiences and work to nurture the next generation of singers.
“But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord.” (Luke 2:10-11)
Lord, the good news of Jesus’ arrival brings such joy to our world! Reach those who are lost and searching with the message of hope that we have through the Messiah. God, allow your message of peace to bring comfort to our anxious world. As we all go about the holiday season, let the message of great joy pierce through all the noise and into people’s hearts. Amen.
Source: Crosswalk: Third Sunday of Advent: Gaudete Readings and Prayers for Lighting the Candle. Retrieved 6 December 2025.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK:
John’s Doubt and Our Own: 1. In Matthew 11, John the Baptist—once so certain—now wrestles with doubt in prison. How does his questioning help us understand the role of doubt in faith, especially during Advent, when we wait with both hope and uncertainty?
John as the Symbol of Advent: 2. Jesus calls John “more than a prophet,” the one who prepares the way. In what ways does John’s life—his courage, his suffering, his pointing beyond himself—embody the meaning of Advent, and how might his witness challenge the way we live out our own waiting today?
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.
Reflections On Malawi: Part 3
Pastor Jenny Hatleli
Since 1999, the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Malawi have been companions in ministry. Recently, several NW Synod representatives, including Pastor Jen Hatleli and Patti Whitworth from ELC, traveled there and met with many of our partners in the region. During Advent, I am posting excerpts from my interview with her about the trip. In our third exchange, I asked Jen to share a story of a person or moment that left a lasting impression on her.
“When we suffer from amnesia, every form of serious authority for faith is in question, and we live unauthorized lives of faith and practice unauthorized ministries.”(Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination)
Spurred by Pope Leo’s recent travels, Creeds have been on my mind this week. In the rush of headlines—and our constant focus on domestic politics—most Americans overlook international stories. Yet Pope Leo XIV’s visit to Turkey this week — his first international trip as Pope — drew attention back to the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea. On November 28, he joined Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I and other Christian leaders in Iznik (ancient Nicaea) for an ecumenical prayer service at the ruins of the Basilica of Saint Neophytos, where the Nicene Creed was recited as a sign of unity. The Pope urged Christians to overcome “the scandal of divisions” and called for dialogue across faiths. Just days earlier, on November 23, he issued an apostolic letter, In Unitate Fidei (“In the Unity of Faith”), underscoring the enduring power of the Creed to unite Catholics, Orthodox, and Protestants. His visit blended historical commemoration with a broader appeal for reconciliation and peace. Imagine if we focused more attention on stories such as these!
So, a reminder regarding creeds. In our Lectionary discussion last Sunday, we touched on the difference between creedal and non-creedal churches. Creedal traditions — i.e. Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, Anglican, Lutheran, Presbyterian — formally affirm and often recite the Apostles’, Nicene, and Athanasian Creeds as authoritative summaries of faith, preserving unity with the ancient church (sidebar: In the ELCA, we say the Apostles’ Creed often, and the Nicene Creed occasionally. I cannot recall ever reciting the Athanasian Creed during worship, but that is a topic for another day).Non-creedal churches, by contrast, reject binding creeds, insisting on Sola Scriptura (“Scripture alone”) and often relying on local statements of faith. Many Baptist, non-denominational, and Restorationist congregations embody this stance, wary of elevating human words above God’s Word. Lutherans, however, have always been shaped by creeds. From the Reformation onward, Luther and his followers held fast to the three aforementioned creeds, while also writing their own confessions — like the Augsburg Confession and Luther’s Catechisms — later gathered in the Book of Concord. These creeds and confessions gave Lutherans a shared voice, safeguarded core truths about God and Christ, and distinguished them from both Catholicism and non-creedal movements. Walter Brueggemann’s opening warning rings true here. As Lutherans, we use creeds to resist amnesia, keeping memory alive and connecting us with generations of saints before us. History, yes, is important.
Thanks for your continuing interest in studying the Bible and exploring the Revised Common Lectionary! Following up from last week, my reflections will focus on the Isaiah passage. I’m also including a unique interpretation of a familiar Advent hymn, a prayer from Pope Leo XIV, and the second excerpt of an interview with Pastor Jen regarding her trip to Malawi.
NOTES REGARDING SOURCING:
** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections. ** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools.
** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.
Common Themes Among the Readings
2 Advent Readings
Isaiah 11:1-10 Psalm 72:1-7, 18-19 Romans 15: 4-13 Matthew 3:1-12
My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.
The readings for 2 Advent share strong themes of hope, justice, and preparation for God’s coming reign. Isaiah 11 envisions a shoot from the stump of Jesse—a messianic figure filled with God’s Spirit who will bring righteousness, peace, and harmony to creation. Psalm 72 echoes this vision, praying for a king who rules with justice, defends the poor, and ushers in flourishing and peace. In Romans 15, Paul ties this hope to Christ, urging believers to live in harmony and welcome one another, showing that God’s promises extend to both Jews and Gentiles. Matthew 3 introduces John the Baptist, who calls people to repentance and readiness for the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. Together, these texts highlight God’s promise of a righteous ruler, the call to communal justice and peace, and the urgent need to prepare our hearts for Christ’s coming.
“Describe the common themes among the readings for 2 Advent.” Copilot, 29 November 2025, Copilot website.
A Strategy for Reading
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages. This is something my son Jake shared with me while attending West Point in the early 2000s (a history class), and I have used it with my students ever since. Give it a try this week!
What is something NEW you learned?
What is something that made you REFLECT?
What is something that RELATES to prior knowledge?
What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
Focus Passage: Isaiah 11:1-10
11 A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots. 2 The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord. 3 His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord. He shall not judge by what his eyes see or decide by what his ears hear, 4 but with righteousness he shall judge for the poor and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth; he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth, and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked. 5 Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist and faithfulness the belt around his loins. 6 The wolf shall live with the lamb; the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the calf and the lion will feed together, and a little child shall lead them. 7 The cow and the bear shall graze; their young shall lie down together; and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. 8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp, and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den. 9 They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. 10 On that day the root of Jesse shall stand as a signal to the peoples; the nations shall inquire of him, and his dwelling shall be glorious.
Isaiah by Michelangelo (1475-1564)
A reminder: Keep in mind that the Psalm included among the lection each week is meant to echo or be a commentary on the Old Testament passage — certainly true this week!
Reflections: Prophecy in Context, Promise for Today
Hezekiah showing off his wealth to envoys of the Babylonian king (Vicente López Portaña, 1789)
Isaiah’s voice rings out again in Year A of the lectionary, and one can almost hear the thunder in his words: “A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.” He is speaking into the late 8th century BCE, a time when Judah was caught between empires and living under the shadow of Assyrian domination. The northern kingdom of Israel had already fallen to Assyria in 722 BCE, and Judah itself was vulnerable, its people anxious about survival and the future of David’s royal line. Into this moment of fear and uncertainty, Isaiah proclaimed hope: that from the “stump” of Jesse — the family line of David — new life would emerge. For Isaiah’s first hearers, this was not a distant messianic dream, but a promise tied to their own history, a vision of King Hezekiah whose reign brought reform, renewed trust in God, and a measure of peace even in the face of overwhelming threat. (Sidebar: Everything didn’t go well for Hezekiah. After recovering from an illness, King Hezekiah proudly showed Babylonian envoys all the treasures of his palace and armory. The prophet Isaiah rebuked him, warning that this display of wealth would lead to Judah’s riches and even his descendants being carried off into exile. This story, found in 2 Kings 20:12–19 and Isaiah 39:1–8, highlights the danger of pride and misplaced trust in human powers rather than in God).
Jesus Reading from Ancient Texts (A.I. generated 2025)
Fast forward several centuries. First generation Christians (many of whom were raised within Judaism) heard these words from Isaiah differently. They did so because their world had been reshaped by the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, which reframed ancient promises in light of a Messiah who had already come rather than one still awaited. As Christians, we cannot help but hear these words through the lens of Jesus, the one who embodies wisdom, justice, and peace in ways that surpass any earthly king. Yet we must pause and honor how Jewish hearers would not have seen Jesus here; their longing was for deliverance in their own time, not centuries later. For them, Isaiah’s vision resonated with hopes for national restoration and relief from oppression, not the inauguration of a new covenant. That tension reminds us that prophecy is always heard in context, and that God’s word speaks differently across generations. In our own day, these same words continue to meet us in fresh ways — sometimes as a call to justice in our communities, sometimes as comfort in seasons of loss, and sometimes as a reminder that God’s promises are larger than any single moment. Prophecy, then, is not a static prediction but a living word.
And so, what is the takeaway for those of us in the Christian community today? Isaiah’s vision is not just about a ruler, but about a transformed world. For his original audience, the images of wolves lying with lambs and children playing safely near wild animals were not fanciful but deeply symbolic: they represented the end of violence, the undoing of fear, and the restoration of creation to harmony under God’s reign. In a society where survival often depended on strength and where predators were a constant threat, these pictures of peace would have sounded almost unimaginable — a radical reversal of the way things were. For Christians, the imagery points us toward Christ, who breaks down hostility and calls us into a kingdom where reconciliation is possible. In our own fractured time, Isaiah’s vision invites us to imagine what life could be if God’s justice truly reigned — a peace that defies division, a hope that steadies us, and a call to bring this hope to those we meet along the path.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Note: I am indebted to Cory Driver of Miami University in Ohio for his interpretation of this passage from 2022, accessed from the Working Preacher website, sponsored by Luther Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota. You can read his essay here.
We will explore this passage further in our Sunday Lectionary group using the discussion questions included in the Faithful Conversations update below.
Advent Hymn: Come Thou Long Expected Jesus
Charles Wesley (1707-1788)
Charles Wesley, principal founder of Methodism, wrote Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus in 1744, moved by both Scripture and the social needs he witnessed in England. Drawing on passages like Haggai 2:7, he framed Christ as the “dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart,” capturing the universal hope for a Savior. The hymn was first published in Hymns for the Nativity of Our Lord and later gained wider recognition when Charles Spurgeon quoted it in a Christmas sermon in 1855. Over time, it became a beloved Advent hymn across denominations. Its enduring power lies in its dual focus: remembering Christ’s birth in Bethlehem while anticipating His future reign, making it both a prayer of longing and a declaration of hope. (Hymn 254, ELW). Enjoy this unique version from Celtic Worship — feel free to sing along!
LYRICS 1. Come, thou long expected Jesus, born to set thy people free; from our fears and sins release us, let us find our rest in thee. Israel’s strength and consolation, hope of all the earth thou art; dear desire of every nation, joy of every longing heart.
2. Born thy people to deliver, born a child and yet a King, born to reign in us forever, now thy gracious kingdom bring. By thine own eternal spirit rule in all our hearts alone; by thine all sufficient merit, raise us to thy glorious throne.
“Celtic Worship” is an authentic expression of sung worship deeply rooted in the sound and traditions of Scottish music. As a collective of some of Scotland’s finest contemporary musicians, they share a deep desire to use their skills and giftings to praise and make known Jesus Christ. Exploring psalms, hymns and new songs, their uniquely powerful pipes-and-fiddle-led sound communicates the full range and depth of the Gospel (from their website).
Holy Spirit of God, you guide believers along the path of history. We thank you for inspiring the Symbols of Faith and for stirring in our hearts the joy of professing our salvation in Jesus Christ, the Son of God, consubstantial with the Father. Without him, we can do nothing. Eternal Spirit of God, rejuvenate the faith of the Church from age to age. Help us to deepen it and to return always to the essentials in order to proclaim it. So that our witness in the world may not be futile, come, Holy Spirit, with your fire of grace, to revive our faith, to enkindle us with hope, to inflame us with charity. Come, divine Comforter, source of harmony, unite the hearts and minds of believers. Come and grant us to taste the beauty of communion. Come, Love of the Father and the Son, gather us into the one flock of Christ. Show us the ways to follow, so that with your wisdom, we become once again what we are in Christ: one, so that the world may believe. Amen.
Excerpt from Pope Leo’s Apostolic Letter, In Unitate Fidei, commemorating the 1700th anniversary of the Council of Nicaea, November 2025. I included a link to the full letter in my introduction this week.
Faithful Conversation Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK:
1. How does understanding Isaiah’s prophecy in its original 8th-century BCE context — with Judah under Assyrian threat and hopes tied to King Hezekiah — change the way we as Christians interpret it through the lens of Jesus?
2. Isaiah’s vision of wolves dwelling with lambs and children safe among wild creatures symbolized a radical reversal of fear and violence. What might it look like for us today to embody that same vision of reconciliation and peace in a world still fractured by division?
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.
Reflections On Malawi: Part 2
Pastor Jenny Hatleli
Since 1999, the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Malawi have been companions in ministry. Recently, several NW Synod representatives, including Pastor Jen Hatleli and Patti Whitworth from ELC, traveled there and met with many of our partners in the region. During Advent, I am posting excerpts from my interview with her about the trip. In our second exchange, she comments on how worship in Malawi challenged or deepened her understanding of faith.
“Every culture is anchored in shared stories. They are the glue that binds people to their traditions, landscapes, and ancestors, carrying history and values across generations. Origin myths, religious texts, folk tales, and national narratives serve as collective memory, shaping how communities understand the past and orient themselves toward the future.” (Richard L. Lechowick)
Richard Lechowick’s reflection on shared stories and collective memory articulates my reverence for the rhythm of the Revised Common Lectionary (RCL). This three-year journey through Scripture — embraced by many within the **catholic (see note below) Christian community — continues to shape worship and spiritual formation with its steady cadence of readings. The lectionary draws on two forces that form us at the deepest level: story and repetition. I grew up in the orbit of a storyteller — my father — who taught me to see the world through narrative. That lens still directs my teaching and mentoring, because story does more than entertain; it interprets our lives and reveals meaning in the ordinary. Each week, the RCL thrusts us into the greatest story ever told: the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. We do not stand outside that story; we live inside it. Through repetition, the lectionary compels us to revisit this story from fresh angles each year. Its three-year cycle sweeps us across the breadth of Scripture, reminding us that faith grows from memory and renews itself in retelling. Story anchors us in the past, but it also illuminates the present, helping us discern who we are and how we belong to God’s unfolding narrative.
Thanks for your visit to this space again this week! There are several commemorations on the ELCA calendar this week, including three pastors from the Lutheran tradition on 24 November: Justus Falckner (1672-1723), Jehu Jones, Jr. (1786-1852), and William Passavant (1821-1894). Each has a compelling story, if you are interested to learn more. As with so many of those we commemorate, I had never heard of these three prior to now. (You will find all the commemorations on pages 14-17 in the front portion of the ELW).
Justus Falckner (1672-1723) became the first Lutheran and Protestant pastor ordained in what would become the United States. He preached, wrote hymns, and carried the Lutheran faith into the new land as a missionary.
Born into slavery, Jehu Jones Jr. (1786–1852) established one of the first African-American Lutheran congregations in the nation. He advanced the Lutheran presence by linking faith with social action, working tirelessly to improve the welfare of African Americans.
William Passavant (1821–1894) expanded Lutheranism’s reach by introducing the Lutheran Deaconess movement to the United States. Through this effort, he rooted Lutheran identity in service, creating institutions of care and social ministry that shaped American Lutheran life.
My reflections this week will center on the Isaiah reading. I’m also including a haunting Advent hymn, a prayer from this year’s Advent Devotional (ELCA), and the first installment of a conversation with Pastor Jen Hatleli reflecting on her recent travels to Malawi, Africa.
** My deliberate use of the word “catholic” in my introduction stems from a discussion within our Lectionary group on Sunday. The Inter-Lutheran Commission on Worship began using “catholic” instead of “Christian” in the Apostles’ Creed with the publication of the Lutheran Book of Worship in 1978. This change restored the original wording of the ancient creeds, where catholic meant universal rather than Roman Catholic. For centuries, many Protestant churches had substituted Christian to avoid confusion, but the ELCA chose to reclaim the historic language. By doing so, the church emphasized continuity with the early church and the ecumenical nature of the creeds. Today, the wording reminds worshippers that they belong to the one universal body of Christ, rooted in memory and renewed in retelling.
** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections. ** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!
** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.
My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.
The First Sunday of Advent readings share a common call to wakefulness, hope, and holy anticipation. Isaiah envisions a future of peace where nations stream to the mountain of the Lord, while Psalm 122 invites us to rejoice in the promise of Jerusalem’s peace and unity. Paul urges believers to awaken from spiritual slumber and cast off the works of darkness, living honorably in the light of Christ. Jesus, in Matthew’s Gospel, warns of the unexpected hour of his coming, calling us to stay alert and ready for the inbreaking of God’s kingdom.
“Describe the common themes among the readings for 1 Advent.” Copilot, 19 November 2025, Copilot website.
A Strategy for the Readings
The four-question approach to reading (NRRD) is a good way to take on Bible passages. This is something my son Jake shared with me while attending West Point in the early 2000s (a history class), and I have used it with my students ever since. Give it a try this week!
What is something NEW you learned?
What is something that made you REFLECT?
What is something that RELATES to prior knowledge?
What is something you would like to further DISCUSS?
Focus Passage: Isaiah 2: 1-5
2 The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.
2 In days to come the mountain of the Lord’s house shall be established as the highest of the mountains and shall be raised above the hills; all the nations shall stream to it. 3 Many peoples shall come and say, “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.” For out of Zion shall go forth instruction and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. 4 He shall judge between the nations and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation; neither shall they learn war any more. 5 O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!
Isaiah by Michelangelo (1475-1564)
Reflections: Isaiah and Jesus: Prophecy and Fulfillment
Mosaic of the prophet Isaiah (Venice)
Luther Seminary Professor Frederick Gaiser calls Isaiah “the longest and perhaps most important of the prophetic books, offering the full range of God’s prophetic message: terrifying words of judgment and comforting words of promise.” He’s right—Isaiah is not for the faint of heart.
Here’s some backstory. Isaiah, son of Amoz, lived in Jerusalem in the 8th century BCE and carried out his ministry in a time of political upheaval. He confronted kings head‑on, warning them against idolatry, injustice, and dependence on foreign powers as Assyria rose to dominance. His call came through a dramatic temple vision, and his message fused sharp judgment with enduring hope. Later generations expanded his legacy, weaving in words from the Babylonian exile and the return from captivity. Scholars divide the book into three movements: First Isaiah (1–39), addressing Assyrian threats; Second Isaiah (40–55), offering comfort and the Servant Songs during exile; and Third Isaiah (56–66), reflecting on rebuilding community and worship. Isaiah spoke with urgency in his own time, and his vision of justice and peace still shapes faith and history.
Jesus Reads from Isaiah
The Revised Common Lectionary draws heavily on Isaiah—Year A alone includes at least 24 readings, many during Advent. For Christians, Isaiah provides the essential backdrop for understanding the story of Jesus Christ. Recall that in the synagogue at Nazareth, Jesus read from Isaiah:“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor” (Isaiah 61:1–2; Luke 4:18–19). By choosing this passage, Jesus announced that Isaiah’s vision had come to life in him. Isaiah spoke of a servant who would bring good news, heal the broken, and shine light into darkness. Jesus claimed that mission and embodied it in his ministry. For Christians, this connection strikes at the heart of Advent: God’s promises echo through Isaiah and find their fulfillment in Christ, the one who brings freedom, healing, and hope.
The first of the Isaiah readings — 2:1–5 — speaks with urgency and hope. The prophet envisions the mountain of the Lord rising above all others, drawing nations together to learn God’s ways and walk in God’s paths. He then delivers a bold image of transformation: weapons hammered into tools for planting and pruning, war exchanged for peace, destruction turned into life. These twin themes — universal invitation and radical peace –summon us to walk in the light of the Lord and embody reconciliation in a fractured world. As Walter Brueggemann reminds us in The Prophetic Imagination, the prophets confront the dominant culture with a sharp alternative— a counter-vision. Isaiah’s vision still cuts through the noise of our age, and his call remains powerfully relevant as we enter Advent in 2025. Let our journey begin.
Soli Deo Gloria!
Advent Music: “Each Winter as the Year Grows Older”
1 Each winter as the year grows older, we each grow older, too. The chill sets in a little colder; the verities we knew seem shaken and untrue.
2 When race and class cry out for treason, when sirens call for war,” they over-shout the voice of reason and scream till we ignore all we held dear before.
3 Yet I believe beyond believing that life can spring from death, that growth can flower from our grieving, that we can catch our breath and turn transfixed by faith.
4 So even as the sun is turning to journey to the north, the living flame, in secret burning, can kindle on the earth and bring God’s love to birth.
5 O Child of ecstasy and sorrows, O Prince of peace and pain, brighten today’s world by tomorrow’s, renew our lives again; Lord Jesus, come and reign.
“Each Winter as the Year Grows Older” is a haunting hymn written in 1969 by William Gay, with music composed by his wife Annabeth McClelland Gay, and later arranged and popularized by liturgical composer Marty Haugen. The text reflects on the passage of time, human struggle, and the hope of Christ’s coming, making it especially fitting for Advent and Epiphany seasons. Its tune, Carol of Hope, carries a somber yet expectant tone that underscores themes of lament and renewal. Haugen’s arrangement, recorded on his Night of Silence album, helped bring the hymn into wider use across Catholic and Protestant congregations, where it continues to resonate as a prayerful meditation on faith, memory, and the promise of God’s love.
A Prayer for 1 Advent
Even when we trip over our good intentions, O God, guide our days this Advent season. Give us confidence and hope in this time of waiting and empower us to carry your message of love to all the world. Amen.
Source: “Devotions for Advent and Christmas, 2025-26.” (Augsburg Fortress).
Faithful Conversations Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK:
1. We’ve all been shaped by stories that get told again and again—family stories, community stories, even songs we grew up with. The Revised Common Lectionary works the same way, pulling us back into the story of Jesus week after week. How have you noticed this rhythm of repeated readings shaping your own faith?
2. Isaiah warned leaders not to put their trust in foreign powers or idols but to return to God’s justice. In our own time—when we lean so heavily on technology, political systems, or economic security—how might we recognize the ways we’ve misplaced our trust? What could that look like, day to day?
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.
Reflections on Malawi
Pastor Jenny Hatleli
Since 1999, the Northwest Synod of Wisconsin and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of Malawi have been companions in ministry. Recently, several NW Synod representatives, including Pastor Jen Hatleli and Patti Whitworth from ELC, traveled there and met with many of our partners in the region. During Advent, I will post reflections on that journey from Pastor Jen. In our first exchange, she comments on what most surprised her about the spiritual lives of the communities she visited there.
“Think for a moment how, across the world, someone’s life just changed – irrevocably and permanently – and everything that once was so steady, so reliable, must now find a new way of unfolding.” (John O’Donohue)**
Celtic mystic John O’Donohue’s opening quote reminded me that liminal moments forever fascinate me — those times when we are “here” but will soon be “there” — in a different space. Richard Rohr, Franciscan priest, defines those moments as “any hiatus between stages of life, faith, jobs, loves, or relationships. It is that graced time when we are not certain or in control, when something genuinely new can happen … it is the ultimate teachable space.” As I look back on over four decades of teaching and coaching, it is clear to me that has always been the hook — the opportunity to work with young people in a liminal moment when hope and exciting possibility are “unfolding.” What a great privilege that is.
The Gospel for Christ the King Sunday brings us into the ultimate liminal moment. At Golgotha, Jesus enters the remarkable threshold—suspended between heaven and earth, life and death. Time slows as eternity draws near. Between two criminals, one mocks while the other sees clearly and pleads, “Jesus, remember me.” In that moment, Jesus responds with grace: “Today you will be with me in paradise.”The cross becomes a doorway, not just to death, but to redemption. Here, God meets us in our suffering, not from above but within it, offering not just forgiveness, but presence. This liminal moment reveals the heart of the gospel—mercy at the edge of death, hope rising in the shadow of despair. It makes perfect sense to me that the authors of the Lectionary would choose this moment for the final Sunday in our church year.
The Liturgical Calendar
Thanks for your visit here again this week! As mentioned, we mark the end of the Lectionary cycle (Year C) during these late days of November. Christ the King Sunday was established by Pope Pius XI in 1925 as a response to the chaos of post–World War I Europe, where secularism, fascism, and communism were on the rise; the Pope’s encyclical Quas Primas proclaimed Christ’s reign as a source of peace, justice, and unity beyond political power — a timeless affirmation. Originally observed in October, Pope Paul VI moved the feast to the final Sunday of the liturgical year in 1969 to highlight Christ’s cosmic sovereignty (in line with changes brought by the Second Vatican Council). In the 1980s and 1990s, many Protestant churches—including the ELCA after its 1988 formation—adopted Christ the King Sunday through the Revised Common Lectionary, which placed it just before Advent. This shift marked a move toward greater ecumenical unity and theological emphasis on Christ’s reign as the culmination of the church’s annual journey. My reflections this week will focus on the Colossians passage, with a musical offering inspired by the Gospel, and a contemporary prayer of confession written for Christ the King Sunday.
** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections. ** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!
** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.
My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.
The readings for Christ the King Sunday proclaim a vision of divine kingship rooted in justice, mercy, and cosmic reconciliation. Jeremiah foretells a righteous king who will gather and shepherd the scattered, embodying wisdom and justice. Psalm 46 declares God as a steadfast refuge amid chaos, while Colossians exalts Christ as the cosmic center—through whom all things were created and reconciled. In Luke’s Gospel, Christ reigns paradoxically from the cross, offering forgiveness and welcoming the repentant thief into paradise, revealing a kingdom founded not on domination but on sacrificial love.
“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 23.” Copilot, 13 November 2025, Copilot website.
Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.
LUTHER’S METHOD OF BIBLE READING A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)
Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer): This is the starting point, where one humbly prays for the Holy Spirit’s guidance to understand God’s Word. Luther emphasized that prayer prepares the heart and mind to receive divine wisdom.
Meditatio (Meditation): This involves deeply engaging with Scripture, not just reading it but reflecting on it repeatedly. Luther encouraged believers to “chew on” the Word, allowing its meaning to sink in and shape their thoughts and actions.
Tentatio (Struggle): Often translated as “trial” or “temptation,” this refers to the challenges and spiritual battles that arise as one seeks to live according to God’s Word. Luther saw these struggles as a way God refines faith, making it more resilient and authentic.
Focus Passage: Colossians 1: 11-20
11 May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power, so that you may have all endurance and patience, joyfully 12 giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.13 He has rescued us from the power of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of his beloved Son, 14 in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins.
15 He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, 16 for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. 17 He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. 18 He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. 19 For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, 20 and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.
Saint Paul Rembrandt (1606-1669)
Check out this overview of Colossians from the Bible Project!
Reflection: “Christ in All: A Colossian Prelude to Advent”
Ancient Turkey
A fascinating window into the world of the first-generation Christians, Colossians was written by the Apostle Paul (or a disciple of his) in c. 60–62 CE during his imprisonment in Rome, addressing a young church in Colossae facing theological confusion and turmoil.
Traders and travelers shaped Colossae — a small city in Asia Minor (modern-day Turkey) — into a diverse hub, blending pagan beliefs, Jewish legalism, and emerging mystical philosophies. Though Paul had not personally visited the Colossae Christians, he was responding to reports from Epaphras, a local leader and companion of Paul’s, who warned of false teachings — later termed the Colossian Heresy — that threatened the community’s understanding of Christ. (Sidebar: Epaphras is mentioned three times in the New Testament: Colossians 1:7-8, 4: 12-13, and Philemon 1:23 and is an intriguing character in his own right).
Paul writing from Prison (A.I. generated)
This week’s reading from the first portion of the letter is a remarkable passage that stopped me in my tracks — and is entirely fitting for Christ the King Sunday. In verses 11-14 Paul urges the Colossians to draw strength from God’s glorious power so they can endure with patience and joy. He calls them to live in gratitude, knowing God has qualified them to share in the inheritance of the saints. God has rescued them from the grip of darkness and placed them firmly in the kingdom of his beloved Son. In Christ, they don’t just find comfort—they receive full redemption and the radical forgiveness of sins. This truth anchors their identity and equips them to stand firm against every false teaching (the Colossian heresy). Good words for us to hear this week.
And then we arrive at this extraordinary piece of prose from the pen of Paul — verses 15-20. As noted by New Testament scholar Jennifer S. Wyant in her 2022 commentary on this passage, “These verses contain some of the highest Christology in the whole New Testament.” Think of Christology as the study of Christ’s divine and human nature, along with an exploration of how he reveals God, fulfills the role of Savior, and reconciles creation through his life, death and resurrection. Biblical scholars, in fact, assert that these verses contain an early creedal statement voiced by first-generation Christians, and provide a window into the evolution into their understanding of Christ’s identity. Can we possibly improve on it?
Face of Christ Claude Mellon, 1649
Finally, Wyant makes an important observation as to WHY these words from more than two thousand years ago instruct and inspire us in 2025 — that is, Paul’s near rhythmic use of the word ALL within the nine verses (I marked them in the passage above). This “creates a deep sense of confidence in who Christ is,” she says. “Nothing is outside of Christ. There is no situation that the Colossians might face that Christ is not already there . . . And so over and over again, we see Paul assure this congregation: Christ is in all. All has been forgiven. All will be well. Forever.” Sit with those words for a few minutes. What a beautiful close to our Lectionary readings for this church year — good words for us to carry into Advent! We have arrived at a liminal moment.
Soli Deo Gloria!
As noted above, I am indebted to Jennifer Wyant for her analysis of Colossians 1: 11-20. You may read that in full at here. Her commentary is among those found at the Working Preacher site sponsored by Luther Seminary in St. Paul, MN.
A Musical Connection: “Jesus Remember Me”
“Jesus, Remember Me” emerged from the Taizé Community in France, an ecumenical monastic movement founded by Brother Roger to promote reconciliation and peace. Composed by Jacques Berthier in 1978, the chant reflects Taizé’s commitment to simple, meditative prayer that transcends language and denomination. Its text—drawn from the words of the penitent thief in Luke 23:42 — embodies the community’s focus on mercy, humility, and hope. Designed for repetition, the chant invites worshippers into a shared contemplative silence, often sung in candlelit gatherings. As with many Taizé songs, it fosters unity through music that is both accessible and spiritually profound.
The chant “Jesus, Remember Me” by Jacques Berthier is known for its simplicity and meditative repetition. The lyrics are:
“Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
This line is sung repeatedly, often in a Taizé-style prayer setting, allowing worshippers to enter a contemplative rhythm.
A Prayer of Confession for Christ the King Sunday
Jesus said, “My realm is not of this world.”
And yet, we confess, sometimes we still get seduced by the values of empire: wealth and power and glory.
Loving God, you see us as we are. You know our secret battles and all the ways in which we fail to live out your call upon our lives.
Never give up on us, God. Use us, even in our brokenness. Forgive us and renew us. Help us to enthrone you in our lives. Amen.
Source: Confession for Christ the King Sunday by Cara Heafy, an ordained Minister in the United Reformed Church, UK.
Jesus Statue in Świebodzin, Western Poland
Faithful Conversations Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK (and anything else you care to discuss from the readings):
1. How does Paul’s repeated use of the word “all” in Colossians 1:11–20 shape our understanding of Christ’s cosmic role and presence in everyday life?
2. Why is a high Christology—emphasizing Christ’s divinity, creative power, and reconciling work—essential for grounding Christian identity, especially in times of transition like Advent?
3. In what ways does the cultural and religious diversity of Colossae mirror the complexities of our own communities today—and how might Paul’s message guide us through theological confusion or competing worldviews?
One more thing . . . .
Check out this story from the Lutheran World Federation regarding the Lutheran Church in Myanmar.
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.
“If you hear the dogs, keep going. If you see the torches in the woods, keep going. If there’s shouting after you, keep going. Don’t ever stop. Keep going. If you want a taste of freedom, keep going.” (Harriet Tubman)
Jesus’ words in verse 19 of this week’s Gospel ignite the memory of Harriet Tubman—a woman whose fierce endurance forged legend. Born into slavery in 1822, she escaped at 27 and refused to walk free alone; instead, she returned again and again, guiding over 70 enslaved people to freedom with unshakable courage and razor-sharp cunning. The 2019 film Harriet captures just a glimpse of her fire—well worth your time. Tubman’s deep Christian faith fueled her mission; she trusted divine guidance and moved with conviction. During the Civil War, she served the Union as a scout, nurse, and spy, and shattered precedent as the first woman to lead a U.S. military raid. After the war, she championed women’s suffrage and cared for the elderly, embodying justice until her final breath. Our church calendar honors both her and Sojourner Truth on March 11—a fitting tribute to lives that refused to bend. I’ll return to the theme of endurance later in the blog.
Martin, Bishop of Tours
Thanks for visiting this space again this week! Next Sunday, believe it or not, is the final Sunday of the Year C of the Revised Common Lectionary! (30 November will be the first Sunday of Advent). Two commemorations are on this week’s ELCA calendar, both falling on Tuesday. It was on 11 November in 397 that Martin, Bishop of Tours died. Hungarian born in 336, Martin was a 4th-century Roman soldier who converted to Christianity and became one of the first non-martyr saints widely venerated in Western Europe. Renowned for his humility and compassion, he famously cut his military cloak in half to share with a beggar during a snowstorm—a gesture that became emblematic of Christian charity. As bishop, he opposed violence and paganism while promoting monasticism and pastoral care, leaving a legacy that shaped medieval Christian identity. And interestingly, Martin Luther was named for Martin of Tours because he was baptized on 11 November in 1483 when he was two days old! (There’s some good Lutheran trivia for you). And we also mark the passing of Soren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) on Tuesday who died in 1855. It was Kierkegaard, Danish philosopher and theologian, who pioneered Christian Existentialism, emphasizing personal experience, choice, and the inner struggle of faith. He deeply influenced 20th Century theologians like Paul Tillich and Reinhold Niebuhr.
My reflections this week focus on the Malachi and Luke readings (influenced by the ongoing dialogue found in 2 Thessalonians). I also offer a musical connection to Psalm 98 that I hope you will enjoy.
** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections. ** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!
** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.
My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.
The readings for Pentecost 23 share themes of divine justice, perseverance, and hope rooted in God’s faithfulness. Malachi 4:1–2a warns of a coming day of judgment, yet promises healing for those who revere the Lord. Psalm 98 celebrates God’s righteous rule and salvation, calling all creation to rejoice in His just governance. In 2 Thessalonians 3:6–13, Paul urges believers to live diligently and not grow weary in doing good, trusting in the Lord’s steadfastness. Luke 21:15–19 assures disciples that even in the face of persecution, God will grant wisdom and endurance, and not a hair of their head will perish.
“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 23.” Copilot, 7 November 2025, Copilot website.
Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.
LUTHER’S METHOD OF BIBLE READING A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)
Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer): This is the starting point, where one humbly prays for the Holy Spirit’s guidance to understand God’s Word. Luther emphasized that prayer prepares the heart and mind to receive divine wisdom.
Meditatio (Meditation): This involves deeply engaging with Scripture, not just reading it but reflecting on it repeatedly. Luther encouraged believers to “chew on” the Word, allowing its meaning to sink in and shape their thoughts and actions.
Tentatio (Struggle): Often translated as “trial” or “temptation,” this refers to the challenges and spiritual battles that arise as one seeks to live according to God’s Word. Luther saw these struggles as a way God refines faith, making it more resilient and authentic.
Focus Passages: Malachi and Luke
First Reading: Malachi 4: 1-2a
4 See, the day is coming, burning like an oven, when all the arrogant and all evildoers will be stubble; the day that comes shall burn them up, says the Lord of hosts, so that it will leave them neither root nor branch. 2 But for you who revere my name the sun of righteousness shall rise, with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.
The Gospel: Luke 21: 15-19
15 for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. 16 You will be betrayed even by parents and siblings, by relatives and friends, and they will put some of you to death. 17 You will be hated by all because of my name. 18 But not a hair of your head will perish. 19 By your endurance you will gain your souls.
Reflection: A Theology of Endurance
The Prophet Malachi Russian Orthodox
Starting with the celebration of Pentecost (8 June), we are now in the 23rd week of Ordinary Time, the longest season of the church year. As Professor Fred Gaiser of Luther Seminary pointed out in a commentary on the Malachi reading, we are “inundated” with several texts concerning the end times in the latter weeks of the Lectionary cycle, including the passages highlighted here. Let’s start with some historical context.
Malachi appears only a few times in the Revised Common Lectionary, most notably on the Presentation of Our Lord (Malachi 3:1–4) and in Year C’s late autumn readings (Malachi 4:1–2a). Both passages highlight themes of purification, judgment, and the promise of a coming messenger—threads that tie the Old Testament’s final words to the hope of Advent. The book was written between 460 and 400 BCE, during a time when the people of Judah had returned from exile but were disillusioned by unmet expectations of renewal. Though the temple had been rebuilt, spiritual apathy and social injustice plagued the community. Malachi confronted corrupt priests, broken relationships, and a lack of trust in God’s promises. His message, delivered in a series of dialogues, called the people back to covenant faithfulness and sincere worship. As the final book of the Old Testament, Malachi bridges the prophetic tradition with the hope of a coming messenger who would prepare the way for the Lord.
St. Luke the Evangelist
Luke 21, written four centuries later, speaks directly into the chaos following Rome’s destruction of the Jerusalem Temple in 70 CE — a seismic blow to Jewish and early Christian identity. Writing decades after Jesus’ apocalyptic warnings (between 80-90 CE), Luke channels the urgency and unrest of first-century Palestine, where Roman oppression and religious conflict threatened survival. In Luke’s recounting, Jesus foretells persecution and collapse yet promises divine wisdom and endurance to those who remain faithful. For Luke’s audience, still reeling from the Temple’s fall, these words reframed suffering as a path toward redemption. (Sidebar: We have to consider that Luke would be writing for some who had a living memory of Jesus, similar to how we might think about events from the mid-1970s).
A.I. Generated Image
In this anxious first third of the 21st century, what can Christians draw from these ancient texts? Many lessons, but let me offer two challenges. First, Malachi urges us to rekindle faith in an age of apathy. He calls us to examine our spiritual integrity, confront institutional corruption, and renew our trust in God’s promises—not passively, but as active covenant partners. In a culture steeped in cynicism and consumerism, this summons demands sincerity and ethical courage. Second, Jesus’ words in Luke challenge us to pair endurance with wisdom in times of upheaval—whenever they arise. Early Christians faced violence, division, and cultural fragmentation (sound familiar?), yet they found hope, resilience, and salvation in Christ. Their faith was forged in fire. As we navigate our own storms, let us draw strength from their example—and follow with a quiet, fierce endurance.
Soli Deo Gloria!
A Musical Connection: “Earth and All Stars” (Brokering)
Herbert Brokering (1926-2009)
Psalm 98 calls all creation to sing a new song to the Lord—a summons that inspired (at least) two familiar hymns: Joy to the World and Earth and All Stars. Both echo the psalm’s vision of joyful, universal praise for God’s saving acts. Herbert Brokering wrote Earth and All Stars in 1964 to mark the 90th anniversary of St. Olaf College. He wove together the wonders of nature and human achievement — “loud rushing planets,” “classrooms and labs” — into a single chorus of praise. The refrain, “He has done marvelous things,” quotes Psalm 98:1 directly, anchoring the hymn in scriptural celebration. I had the privilege of meeting Brokering when he spoke at Concordia during my student years. He addressed us in Chapel and in a religion class—an unforgettable presence.
Enjoy this interpretation of the song from the St. Olaf Choir — the organist is having some fun with it — my friend, Rollie Lee will enjoy this!
A note from a commentary on Psalm 98 (J. Clinton McCann, Jr.) “Psalm 98 is an extraordinarily important psalm. Along with the similar Psalm 96, it anchors the collection of YHWH-mlk (“the LORD reigns,” or “the LORD is king”; see verse 6) psalms, or enthronement psalms, that many commentators view as “the theological ‘heart’”1 of the book of Psalms. Furthermore, it is likely that Psalm 98 has been sung over the past 250 years as much as or more than any other psalm. This is due, of course, to the popularity of Isaac Watts’s metrical version of Psalm 98, ‘Joy to the World.’”
Earth and all stars, loud rushing planets, sing to the Lord a new song! O victory, loud shouting army, sing to the Lord a new song! He has done marvelous things. I, too, will praise him with a new song!
Hail, wind, and rain, loud blowing snowstorms, sing to the Lord a new song! Flowers and trees, loud rustling dry leaves, sing to the Lord a new song! He has done marvelous things. I, too, will praise him with a new song!
Trumpet and pipes, loud clashing cymbals, sing to the Lord a new song! Harp, lute, and lyre, loud humming cellos, sing to the Lord a new song! He has done marvelous things. I, too, will praise him with a new song!
Knowledge and truth, loud sounding wisdom, sing to the Lord a new song! Daughter and son, loud praying members, sing to the Lord a new song! He has done marvelous things. I, too, will praise him with a new song.
Note: There are several variations of the song lyrics. These are from Augsburg Fortress Publishing, 1968.
Psalm 98
O sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things. His right hand and his holy arm have gotten him victory. 2 The Lord has made known his victory; he has revealed his vindication in the sight of the nations. 3 He has remembered his steadfast love and faithfulness to the house of Israel. All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God.
4 Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth; break forth into joyous song and sing praises. 5 Sing praises to the Lord with the lyre, with the lyre and the sound of melody. 6 With trumpets and the sound of the horn make a joyful noise before the King, the Lord.
7 Let the sea roar and all that fills it, the world and those who live in it. 8 Let the floods clap their hands; let the hills sing together for joy 9 at the presence of the Lord, for he is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness and the peoples with equity.
Prayer Reflection: A Fearless Space (Nouwen)
Henri Nouwen speaks to something deep and true here: the kind of home we build when we’re anchored in God’s love — a fearless space. In a world full of wounds, only God offers a space free from fear—a place where we can be honest, stay faithful, and grow together. This reminds me of Paul’s words in 2 Thessalonians 3:6–13. He calls us to live responsibly, to keep working, and not to grow weary in doing good. It’s a call to community that’s grounded in grace, not perfection. When we confess our weaknesses and lean into prayer, we begin to reflect the unbroken love of God—even in our brokenness.
God alone is free enough from wounds to offer us a fearless space. In and through God we can be faithful to each other: in friendship, marriage, and community. This intimate bond with God, constantly nurtured by prayer, offers us a true home. We can live together in this home without asking for much more than a willingness to constantly confess our weaknesses to each other. We can only stay together when the “staying power” comes from the One who comes to stay. When we know ourselves to be deeply anchored in that divine covenant, we can build homes together. Only then can our limited and broken love reflect the unlimited and unbroken love of God.Amen.
Dutch Theologian Henri Nouwen
Henri Nouwen (1932–1996) was a priest, professor, and spiritual writer. He authored over 40 books on the spiritual life and spent his final years at L’Arche Daybreak, a community for people with intellectual disabilities. Drawing from his own journey of vulnerability and faith, he invites seekers into deeper intimacy with God, themselves, and others.
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME!
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION THIS WEEK (and anything else you care to discuss from the readings):
1. What does “rekindling faith in an age of apathy” look like in our own community?
2. How can we cultivate endurance and wisdom in the face of modern upheaval?
And one more thing . . . . a notable event from the Lutheran World Federation:
On Reformation Day 2025, the Nepal Evangelical Lutheran Church (NELC) made history by ordaining its first two women pastors—Rev. Rinki Rachel Soren and Rev. Sushila Murmu. More than 325 people gathered in Laxmipur, Morang, to witness this powerful step toward greater inclusion in ministry. Read the full article here.
The Lutheran World Federation (LWF) is a global communion of Lutheran churches committed to faith, justice, and service. Founded in 1947, it brings together over 150 member churches in more than 99 countries. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) is one of its largest members, actively participating in LWF’s global mission, humanitarian efforts, and ecumenical dialogue. Through this connection, the ELCA joins a worldwide network of Lutherans working together for peace, reconciliation, and shared witness.
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.
“It appears to me as if the world itself were approaching its end and, as the Psalmist says, is waxing old. … So there is nothing to hope for, except the day of our great God.”(Martin Luther, 1544)
This week’s lectionary readings—especially Jesus’ bold affirmation that God is “not of the dead, but of the living,” and Paul’s steadying words to the Thessalonians—draw us into the deep waters of eschatology, that rich and unsettling branch of theology that ponders the ending days. Martin Luther, like many before and after him, felt the tremors of history and believed Christ’s return was near. In fact, in the late 1520s, as the Ottoman Empire pressed into Europe, he feared he might not even finish translating the Old Testament before the world unraveled! This foreboding seemed to stay with him for his remaining years, as noted in the opening quote. I remember my own brush with apocalyptic awareness: eighth grade, 1970, a classroom moment when I learned the U.S. had over 30,000 nuclear weapons—enough to erase the Soviet Union several times over, and they could do the same to us (I remember thinking, “why do we need to be able to destroy them many times?”). Today, the specter of Artificial Intelligence has taken up residence in our cultural imagination, whispering new versions of the old fear: that we may be the architects of our own undoing. As always, there is much to fear in our stormy times!
Many who are reading this were born and raised in the Lutheran tradition. The ELCA — our particular branch of this tradition — invites us to live with bold hope, trusting that Christ’s resurrection is not just a past event but the heartbeat of God’s future for the world. Instead of fear or speculation, we’re called to see the end as a horizon of justice, peace, and renewal—where God’s promises come alive. Scripture’s visions of the last things aren’t blueprints to decode but poetic truths that shape how we walk through uncertainty with courage. This eschatology doesn’t pull us away from the world—it sends us into it, grounded in grace and ready to embody the reign that’s already breaking in. It’s a lot to think about.
San Martin de Porres (1579-1839)
Thanks for your visit to this space again this week! Your interest in using the Revised Common Lectionary as a means of exploring scripture inspires me. And notably, November has been deemed Global Bible Month by three leading Bible Apps, including YouVersion which many of us are using with our Bible 365 Challenge. We have three Sundays remaining in Year C (through 23 November) and this week, among others, we commemorate Martin de Porres, renewer of society, who died on 3 November 1639. His story is powerful. And, as I’m writing this, I’m reflecting on a tremendous worship experience that we shared on Sunday with the Ho-Chunk UCC, Little Norway, and Spirit Creek. It is truly humbling and empowering to use the language of faith as a means of healing centuries of brokenness with our Indigenous brothers and sisters! Thanks to all involved!
My reflections this week will focus on the 2 Thessalonians passage, continuing the theme of our view of the final days.
** Note 1: Links to outside references are bolded and italicized and are meant for further reading or research on your part. While the text I am including in the blog is my own, I am pulling from a multitude of sites for ideas and connections. ** Note 2: In my increasing use of A.I. (Copilot), I will cite sourcing of how I am using the tool, if necessary. I don’t want that to be overly cumbersome, but I am gradually incorporating more tools. I am exploring the A.I. world this summer prior to my next teaching semester. As you can imagine, it is a great challenge right now and will forever change the face of education!
** Note 3: The images I include in the blog are drawn from Wikimedia Commons to the fullest extent possible.
My source for the Bible readings each week is the Bible Gateway website. I generally use the NRSVUE translation.
The readings for Pentecost 22 share a deep longing for resurrection, justice, and divine presence amid suffering and uncertainty. Job declares hope in a living Redeemer, while the psalmist seeks refuge in God’s face and protection from harm. Paul urges steadfastness in the face of confusion about the end times, and Jesus affirms that God is the God of the living, not the dead. Together, these texts invite believers to trust in a future shaped by divine faithfulness, even when the present feels fractured or unclear.
“Describe the common themes among the readings for Pentecost 22.” Copilot, 1 November 2025, Copilot website.
Lectio Divina is a quiet, thoughtful way of reading the Bible to connect with God. It grew out of early Christian traditions and was shaped by thinkers like Augustine, who believed Scripture speaks to the heart. Augustine didn’t invent the practice, but his ideas helped form its spirit—listening deeply and responding with love. Later, others gave it a clear structure, but its roots go back to that longing for God’s voice.
LUTHER’S METHOD OF BIBLE READING A Revision of the Lectio Divina (Augustinian)
Three Steps
Oratio (Prayer): This is the starting point, where one humbly prays for the Holy Spirit’s guidance to understand God’s Word. Luther emphasized that prayer prepares the heart and mind to receive divine wisdom.
Meditatio (Meditation): This involves deeply engaging with Scripture, not just reading it but reflecting on it repeatedly. Luther encouraged believers to “chew on” the Word, allowing its meaning to sink in and shape their thoughts and actions.
Tentatio (Struggle): Often translated as “trial” or “temptation,” this refers to the challenges and spiritual battles that arise as one seeks to live according to God’s Word. Luther saw these struggles as a way God refines faith, making it more resilient and authentic.
Focus Passage: 2 Thessalonians 2: 1-5, 13-17
Concerning the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ and our being gathered to him, we ask you, brothers and sisters, 2 not to become easily unsettled or alarmed by the teaching allegedly from us—whether by a prophecy or by word of mouth or by letter—asserting that the day of the Lord has already come. 3 Don’t let anyone deceive you in any way, for that day will not come until the rebellion occurs and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the man doomed to destruction. 4 He will oppose and will exalt himself over everything that is called God or is worshiped, so that he sets himself up in God’s temple, proclaiming himself to be God. 5 Don’t you remember that when I was with you I used to tell you these things?
13 But we ought always to thank God for you, brothers and sisters loved by the Lord, because God chose you as firstfruits to be saved through the sanctifying work of the Spirit and through belief in the truth. 14 He called you to this through our gospel, that you might share in the glory of our Lord Jesus Christ. 15 So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the teachings we passed on to you, whether by word of mouth or by letter. 16 May our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father, who loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, 17 encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word.
Reflection: “Echoes from the Via Egnatia”
Paul’s Second Missionary Journey, 49 CE
Thessalonica was a thriving port city in Macedonia, strategically located along the Via Egnatia—the major Roman road linking east and west—which made it a hub of commerce, culture, and political influence. As a Roman provincial capital with a diverse population of Greeks, Romans, and Jews, it was an ideal place for Paul to plant a church during his second missionary journey (49-52 CE). He preached in the synagogue for three Sabbaths, and despite facing opposition, his message took root among both Jews and Gentiles. Forced to leave prematurely, Paul later wrote 1 and 2 Thessalonians while in Corinth (50-51 CE) to encourage the fledgling community, clarify teachings about Christ’s return, and strengthen their faith amid persecution. (Sidebar: Paul’s authorship of 2 Thessalonians is disputed and it could have been written by one of his co-workers, Timothy or Silvanus). The city’s vibrancy and volatility made it a powerful setting for Paul’s eschatological reflections and pastoral care.
As pointed out in the Lutheran Study Bible, a good framework for understanding the correspondence between Paul and the Thessalonian believers is to realize that in his absence, three questions seemed to be swirling and remain relevant in 2025: “Can we trust this guy? If God is truly Lord of all, why are we who worship this God still suffering? Why is Christ’s return taking so long, and what will happen to those who die before he comes?”(LSB, page 1842). That third question seems to be at the center of 2 Thessalonians.
Via Egnatia (Roman Road utilized by Paul)
In 2 Thessalonians 2:1–5, Paul urges believers not to be shaken or alarmed by claims that the Day of the Lord has already come. He explains that certain events—like the rebellion and the revealing of the “man of lawlessness”—must happen first and reminds them that he had already taught them this. Then, in verses 13–17, Paul shifts to encouragement, thanking God for choosing them for salvation through the Spirit and truth. He calls them to stand firm, hold fast to his teachings, and be strengthened in every good word and deed, offering comfort and hope in the face of confusion and fear.
What should we take away from this portion of the letter? First, it is clear that we should not be shaken by false claims about the timing of Christ’s return. The author suggests that certain events (a rebellion, a revelation of a “man of lawlessness,” both rather vague and applicable to many situations!) must precede the Day of the Lord. People have twisted themselves into knots over these kinds of predictions throughout history, and we can get caught up in that as well. Second, the author reminds the community that they are chosen by God and called through the gospel to share in Christ’s glory, affirming their identity and purpose. As spiritual descendants, this is WHO we are and WHY we are! Rather than spending our time fretting over the end times, a healthier approach to life is to do what we can right here and right now — a practical approach to justice. Action is a great counter to anxiety about the future. Finally, there are great words of encouragement for believers in the final verses — one of many pep talks we find in Paul’s letters — check out Romans 8:18, 2 Corinthians 4:17, 1 Thessalonians 4: 13-18, and Galatians 6:9 if you need a lift today!
Soli Deo Gloria!
A Musical Connection: The End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)
While preparing this week’s blog, I stumbled on a commentary on the passage from 2 Thessalonians by Nijay Gupta. In it, he referenced R.E.M.’s It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine), a 1987 offering that feels like a snapshot of late-1980s chaos—fast, fragmented, and overloaded with pop culture. Hearing the song took me back to that period and my students from those days. The lyrics come at you fast and the ironic “I feel fine” tag line offers a sense of “shrug” in the face of a world that seems to be coming apart. I post it here as an example of the post-modern angst that many seem to feel in our own time — and is played out in so many ways.
R.E.M. emerged from Athens, Georgia in the early 1980s and quickly became one of the defining bands of alternative rock. Known for their jangly guitar sound, cryptic lyrics, and Michael Stipe’s distinctive voice, they blended post-punk energy with Southern introspection. Their early albums like Murmur and Reckoning built a cult following, while later releases such as Out of Time and Automatic for the People brought mainstream success with hits like “Losing My Religion.” R.E.M.’s music often wrestled with themes of identity, politics, and existential angst, making them both a voice of their generation and a bridge between underground authenticity and global influence.
(Information garnered from Co-Pilot, 1 November 2025)
Prayer Reflection: Merton’s “Prayer of Trust”
Thomas Merton’s Prayer of Trust is included in his 1956 book, Thoughts In Solitude, and is a heartfelt confession that he doesn’t know where he’s going, but he’s trying to follow God anyway. It’s honest, raw, and speaks to that deep uncertainty so many of us feel in a world that often seems disconnected and chaotic. In the postmodern era, where truth feels slippery and meaning gets drowned out by noise, Merton’s words remind us that even the desire to please God is enough. His prayer offers a kind of spiritual anchor—a quiet trust that cuts through the confusion and says, “You’re not alone in this.” I offer it as a counter to the sentiments expressed in the R.E.M. song.
My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone. Amen.
Thomas Merton (1915-1968)
Faithful Conversations Updates
Join us for some free-flowing conversation about the Lectionary readings each Sunday. We meet from 10:45-11:30 in the church library each week, with some exceptions. No prior knowledge is necessary! ALL ARE WELCOME! And, let’s discuss the Gospel reading for Sunday (Luke 20: 27-38) alongside the Second Reading from 2 Thessalonians — why are they offered together in the RCL readings for Sunday?
The Bible 365 Challenge! More than 60 members of our faith community have committed to the Bible 365 Challenge—a shared journey of reading through the entire Bible in one year. Each day, we engage with selected passages weaving together stories of faith, struggle, grace, and redemption. This challenge isn’t just about completing a task; it’s about deepening our spiritual roots, building community, and discovering how scripture speaks into our lives today.
