Where Are We in the Lectionary Calendar?

Even though the Lectionary highlights Ascension Day, it often slips by quietly. We’re deep into Eastertide now — the fifty days between Easter and Pentecost — that keep drawing us back to resurrection, renewal, and the church’s first steps into mission. As Thursday approaches, the Ascension stands before us as that hinge moment when Jesus, after forty days with his followers, entrusts his work to the church and returns to the Father. Luke and Acts hold this mystery with both clarity and awe. Christians have honored this day since the earliest centuries; by the fourth century it was widely observed in the East, and by the sixth it was firmly rooted in the Western church. Traditionally kept forty days after Easter, Ascension Day has become a feast of prayer and worship, proclaiming Christ’s exalted reign and the hope of his coming again.

This Week’s Readings (Linked) and Themes

Five-Minute Homily: He Opened Their Minds

Ho‑Chunk elder Gordon Thunder visited my classroom many times during my years at BRFHS. On his first visit in the 1990s, he said something that lodged itself in me and never left: “Education is much more a matter of the heart than of the head.” As he spoke, he tapped his chest and told a story from his childhood. He remembered walking in the woods with his Cooka—his grandfather—who would stop along the trail to teach him things. Nothing formal. Nothing scripted. Just a grandfather, a child, and the quiet wisdom of the woods. That memory still reminds me that real learning begins with inspiration, not information. Gordon’s words came back to me again this week as I sat with the readings from Ephesians and Luke. In Ephesians, Paul prays that believers receive a spirit of wisdom and that “the eyes of their heart” be enlightened. I love that phrase. One commentator suggests that the heart, in Paul’s world, meant the core of who we are — mind, will, emotions, maybe even what we would call the soul. So when Paul prays for the eyes of our heart to open, he’s asking God to help us see fully, to perceive truth in a way that goes deeper than intellect. It strikes me that this is a prayer worth whispering every time we open scripture. Jesus gives what Paul prays for. After the resurrection — after the Emmaus conversation and the breaking of bread — Jesus appears again to the disciples in Jerusalem. He reminds them that everything written about him in the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms has come to life in him. Then Luke offers that luminous line: “He opened their minds to understand the scriptures.” It mirrors the Emmaus moment when their eyes were opened at the table. Jesus is doing for them what Paul later longs for in the church: awakening the heart, clearing the fog, helping them see. From there, Jesus gives them a kind of summary of the Christian story — his suffering, his rising, the forgiveness he brings, and the mission they will carry into the world. He names them as witnesses. He promises the Holy Spirit. And then Luke gives us that dramatic scene of the ascension—so striking that he repeats it again at the start of Acts. None of the other Gospel writers tell it quite this way.

How do we make sense of that moment? Artists like John Singleton Copley and Albertino Piazza (below) tried to capture it on canvas, but even the best paintings can only gesture toward mystery. As one thoughtful Christian philosopher has suggested, the ascension is not about Jesus rocketing through the sky to some far‑off “heaven.” It is not a change of location at all, but a change of state — Jesus stepping from the realm of time into the realm of eternity. That way of seeing it rings true. The disciples weren’t watching a departure; they were witnessing a transformation. Something real happened — something beyond their categories — something that told them Jesus was not gone but glorified, not absent but now present in a new and deeper way.

And here we are, two thousand years later, still trying to see with the eyes of our hearts. We remain in that “between time” — still trying to understand scripture. Still trying to follow the risen Christ into a world that aches for hope. Like those first disciples, we are witnesses in our own time and place. Guided by the Spirit, we carry light into the corners around us. And yes — the world still desperately needs the message of Jesus Christ. May God open our hearts to see it, and our lives to live it.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Image of the Week: The Ascension of Christ

Going Beyond: Digital Ministry

The 6 Easter Readings (Linked)

Three-Minute Homily: “God in Us”

Think for a moment about the most enthusiastic person you know. A number of people come to mind for me — people who change the room with their presence. They remind me that enthusiasm comes from the Greek entheos, “God in us,” which is exactly what Jesus promises in this week’s Gospel. In John 14:15–21, Jesus is preparing the disciples for life after his departure. He promises “another Advocate” (v. 16), someone who will stand beside them and dwell within them—the Spirit of Truth the world can’t quite grasp (v. 17). He assures them they won’t be left orphaned (v. 18), and in verse 20 he gives a remarkable glimpse into the life of the Trinity. It’s worth lingering over that line.

And when we do, we realize the Church has been lingering over it for centuries. Every time we confess the faith in our three ecumenical creeds, we echo what Jesus is saying here. The Apostles’ Creed names Father, Son, and Holy Spirit with a kind of elegant simplicity. The Nicene Creed widens that frame, reminding us that the Son is “of one being with the Father” and the Spirit is “the Lord, the giver of life” — language that mirrors the unity Jesus describes in verse 20. And the Athanasian Creed, with its careful insistence on “one God in Trinity and Trinity in Unity,” underscores that this isn’t abstract theology. It’s the very life of God — shared, relational, overflowing. Which means that when Jesus promises the Advocate, he’s not offering a spiritual accessory. He’s drawing us into that divine life itself. That is the heart of entheos — “God in us.”

That same theme —“God in us” — runs straight into the reading from Acts. Paul’s conversion took place around 34 CE, and roughly twelve years later he launched the first of several missionary journeys. Between 46–60 CE, he traveled more than 10,000 miles across the Mediterranean world, most of it on foot. In Acts 17, we meet him on his second journey (around 51 CE), standing on the Areios Pagos in Athens after being chased out of Thessalonica and Berea. Picture Paul surrounded by a mix of philosophers, poets, civic leaders, skeptics, and people who are simply curious about this “new teaching” he’s bringing to town. Athens was a city that loved ideas, so Paul meets them on their own ground. He begins with something familiar—their altar “to an unknown god”—and uses it as a bridge to proclaim the God “who gives to all mortals life and breath” (v. 25). Then he goes a step further. To show he’s not attacking their culture but building on it, he quotes two of their own poets, Epimenides and Aratus, to affirm that “we too are his offspring” (v. 28). It’s a brilliant move: he honors their intellectual world while gently redirecting it toward the God revealed in Christ. And as Acts tells us, the response is mixed. Some laugh him off, but others—like Dionysius the Areopagite and a woman named Damaris—lean in and become part of the early Christian movement (vv. 32–34).

So what do we take from these readings? First, God’s love and the gift of the Spirit are not limited to insiders. They reach everyone — an unsettling truth in a world that thrives on division. Second, the Spirit doesn’t let us stay insulated. If we only talk to people who think like we do, we shrink. We freeze. We lose the story we’ve been given to share. The Spirit pushes us outward — into conversations, into community, into the messy, beautiful work of living what we proclaim. That’s where “God in us” becomes more than a word study. It becomes a way of life.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Images of the Week

Going Beyond: Digital Ministry

Introduction: “Many Mansions”

“When you look back on your life, what are the pivotal moments when you perceived the grace of an invitation to a different way of being, a way closer to God? How does it change your understanding of such moments if you think of them as the Lord at work, trying to ‘take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also’ — in other words, into deeper fullness of life and truth and communion with the Creator? Hearing anew this promise of Jesus as a way-maker to abundant life, not just once and for all through his death and resurrection but even and especially through the intimate details of your life, can be electrifying.” (Laurel Mathewson)

As I sat with this week’s readings — and especially John 14 — I kept returning to a recent article by Reverand Laurel Mathewson that reframed Jesus’ promise about “many dwelling places” (or “many mansions” in the King James version). As she suggests, we typically hear that line at funerals, but the author pushed me to hear it as a present invitation: the soul as an “interior castle,” full of rooms where Christ meets us now in the day to day of our earthly lives.

That image helped me rethink Jesus’ words, “I will take you to myself,” not as a distant hope but as something unfolding now in the daily rhythm of our lives. And when I set that beside Stephen’s story and Jesus’ exchange with Thomas and Philip — “I am the way, the truth, and the life” — the connection sharpened. Those first Christians were called “People of the Way” for a reason. Our gaze stays fixed on Christ because he is the one who draws us inward, builds us into a spiritual house, and leads us toward the Father.

In a world fractured by division and despair, this is the message we carry: a God who stands with us, restores us, and fills us with hope — not someday, but today. Later in this week’s blog, I am offering a hymn that follows the more traditional view of John 14. Consider both interpretations as you explore the readings this week!


Soli Deo Gloria!

My introduction this week was inspired by Laurel Mathewson’s May 3rd “In the Lectionary” commentary on John’s Gospel from The Christian Century magazine (May 2026 edition). Reverand Mathewson is co-vicar at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in San Diego and the author several books. Here is further information on St. Luke’s Episcopal, if interested.

Image of the Week: The Stoning of Stephen

Easter 4 Readings and Connecting Themes

Note: I utilize the Bible Gateway website for the readings (NRSVUE) and also receive as assist from Co-Pilot (A.I.) for summarizing the themes each week.

ELCA Commemorations This Week

The ELCA’s Lesser Festivals and Commemorations grow from an old Christian practice—shared with Roman Catholicism—of remembering saints as fellow believers. Early Christians honored martyrs, apostles, and teachers whose lives made the gospel visible. Lutherans kept the practice but shifted the focus: we remember these people to point to the God who worked through them. Today, these commemorations root us in the church’s broad story and remind us that the same Spirit who inspired earlier believers is still shaping our witness. They appear on pages 15–17 of the ELW.

Music and Meditation: Mansions of the Lord

“Mansions of the Lord,” written by Randall Wallace and Nick Glennie‑Smith for the 2002 film We Were Soldiers, takes its title directly from Jesus’ promise in John 14:2 (KJV): “In my Father’s house are many mansions.” The hymn embraces the traditional, future‑tense reading of that passage—Christ preparing a place of rest, peace, and welcome beyond death. Its language of “no more weeping, no more fear” naturally resonates in military contexts, honoring those who have fallen in battle. Yet the imagery also extends to anyone who has “fought the good fight” of faith, offering comfort to all who long for God’s promised home. This stands in contrast to Laurel Mathewson’s reading in The Christian Century, where she shifts the focus from a future heavenly dwelling to the present, interior rooms where Christ meets us now. If Mathewson invites us to explore the soul’s inner chambers in this life, “Mansions of the Lord” points us toward the home Christ prepares in the next.

The West Point Glee Club’s interpretation of the song is offered here — they are accompanied by the West Point band. It raises some nostalgia for me due to our son’s experience at USMA in the early 2000s — we visited there a half dozen times and it is a remarkable school.

Going Beyond: Digital Ministry: The Bible Project

Reminder: Blog Purpose and Format

Thanks for stopping by again this week. Two Worlds is a digital ministry space where I post the weekly Revised Common Lectionary readings (NRSVU) and offer a brief, historically grounded reflection with music, visual art, and other creative resources. I also include the ELCA’s weekly commemorations and link to additional materials, with a Table of Contents that lets you jump to what you need. Most images come from Wikimedia Commons, and Copilot supports some of the writing and research. Among other things, the blog grows out of ongoing conversation with Pastor Jen Hatleli of ELC in Black River Falls.

I welcome any feedback. Comment on the blog, or email me: pstrykken@gmail.com

Introduction: Day by Day

As Christians, how do we hold the past, present, and future in a healthy balance? That question has been sitting with me this week. Having spent more than 45 years teaching history, I have spent much time wandering through the past. And while history can be a gift, it can also be perilous if we get stuck there. Sometimes we linger too long in the darker chapters — our own or the broader narratives of community or nation — and the weight of it keeps us from moving forward. Other times nostalgia takes over, that aching homesickness for a “better time” when life seemed simpler. A little nostalgia is harmless; too much can keep us from meeting life as it actually is. The future can trap us just as easily. Fear of what might be around the corner — especially in a world as anxious as 2026 — can leave us cynical or even despairing. A quote attributed to Abraham Lincoln comes to mind: “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.” I appreciate Lincoln’s simplicity and perspective — and I pray the Serenity Prayer each morning.

Maybe that’s why the phrase “day by day” in this week’s reading from Acts caught my attention. It appears twice, and it sent me back to my high school days and the 1973 film Godspell. You might remember the song Day by Day, inspired by both Acts 2 and the 13th‑century Prayer of Saint Richard of Chichester: “to know thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly, day by day.” The Swedish hymnwriter Lina Sandell penned a hymn by the same name in 1865 — I have included that story and a version of the hymn later in the blog.

What strikes me is how the earliest Christians lived this rhythm. They carried a living memory of the resurrection — imagine the energy in that community! They experienced “wonders and signs,” shared what they had, and leaned into a mission bigger than themselves. As indicated in Acts 2, they did it day by day, trusting God with what came next. Maybe that’s the model for us too. Not to deny the past or ignore the future, but to stop letting either one swallow the present. Today is the only day we are actually given. We can’t change yesterday, and we can’t control tomorrow. But we can show up today, with faith, courage, and hope. After all, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

Soli Deo Gloria!

Image of the Week

Easter 4 Readings and Connecting Themes

Note: I utilize the Bible Gateway website for the readings (NRSVUE) and also receive as assist from Co-Pilot (A.I.) for summarizing the themes each week.

ELCA Commemorations This Week

The ELCA’s Lesser Festivals and Commemorations grow out of a much older Christian instinct — shared with Roman Catholicism — to remember the saints as companions in faith rather than distant icons. Early Christians, especially in the Western (and later Roman Catholic) tradition, honored martyrs, apostles, and teachers whose lives made the gospel visible in their own generations. Lutherans kept that rhythm after the Reformation but shifted the emphasis: we remember these people not to elevate them, but to point to the God who worked through them. In the ELCA today, these commemorations help us stay grounded in the wide, diverse story of the church across time and remind us that the same Spirit who stirred courage, creativity, and compassion in earlier believers is still shaping our lives and our witness right now. You will find the listing of these on pages 15-17 of the ELW.

Music and Prayer: Day by Day (Sandell and Ahnfeldt)

Carolina (“Lina”) Sandell Berg wrote Day by Day in 1865, several years after witnessing the tragic drowning of her father — a Lutheran pastor — a moment that shaped her lifelong emphasis on God’s daily care. Sandell wrote more than 650 hymns, many of them centered on trust, providence, and the nearness of God in ordinary life. When Oskar Ahnfelt (1813-1882) later set Blott en dag to music in 1872, his gentle melody helped carry the hymn across Sweden and eventually into the Swedish‑American community, where it was translated into English in the early 20th century. It became a favorite hymn of Scandinavian-Americans and was often sung at funerals.

There’s no evidence Sandell was thinking of Acts 2:46–47 when she wrote the hymn, even though the passage uses the same phrase “day by day.” But the thematic overlap is unmistakable. Acts describes the early church receiving God’s gifts one day at a time — daily bread, daily fellowship, daily grace. Sandell’s hymn echoes that same rhythm of trust: God gives strength for today and tomorrow rests in God’s hands. Whether or not she had Acts 2 open on her desk, she was writing out of a pietist tradition that loved the idea of daily dependence on God. That’s why the pairing feels so natural: both the Scripture and the hymn invite us to live in the present moment, trusting that God meets us there.

The hymn is part of the ELW (#790) and this piano interpretation by Sangah Noona is especially good. If you need a few moments of peace this week, enjoy this hymn!

Going Beyond: Digital Ministry and Global Refuge

Reminder: Blog Purpose and Format

Thanks for visiting this space again this week! Two Worlds is a digital space for ministry where I post the Revised Common Lectionary readings each week (NRSVU) and offer a brief, historically grounded reflection alongside music, visual art, and other creative expressions that deepen our understanding of faith. I include the ELCA’s weekly commemorations and link to thoughtful resources for readers who want to explore further, with a Table of Contents that lets you pick and choose a bit. Most images come from Wikimedia Commons, and I use Copilot to support some of the writing and research. The blog also reflects an ongoing dialogue with Pastor Jen Hatleli of ELC in Black River Falls, Wisconsin regarding the scriptures and Bible Study.

I welcome any feedback. Comment on the blog, or email me: pstrykken@gmail.com

Welcome to Two Worlds!
(Year A: 5 Lent)

“Discipline means to prevent everything in your life from being filled up. Discipline means that somewhere you’re not occupied, and certainly not preoccupied. In the spiritual life, discipline means to create that space in which something can happen that you hadn’t planned or counted on.”

(Henri Nouwen, Dutch Theologian)

INTRODUCTION
Living in the northland makes the Lenten journey feel like the slow turn from winter toward spring — a season that asks us to clear space inside ourselves the way the land slowly clears itself of ice. The gray, frozen landscape loosens, and the first thin layers of green push back into view. Lent invites that same discipline of stepping back from what occupies or preoccupies us so that God can do what we could not plan or predict. That movement from darkness to light, despair to hope, and death to life runs straight through the readings for the 5th Sunday in Lent — Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones and Jesus calling Lazarus from the tomb. Ezekiel’s vision has always pulled me in. He stands among the great prophetic voices — Isaiah, Jeremiah, Lamentations, Daniel — and he lived through the trauma of exile in Babylon after his people watched the Temple fall in 587 BCE. That loss cut deep into their identity. Ezekiel spoke with fierce clarity, confronting the idolatry and corruption of Israel’s leaders and insisting their choices mattered. Yet he refused to leave his people in despair. He promised restoration, a return home, a rebuilt Temple. At the center of those promises rises that wild, unforgettable vision: a valley of bones so dry they almost rattle, until God breathes life into them and they stand with energy and purpose. Darkness to light. Despair to hope. Death to life.

That same breath — God’s life‑giving Spirit — carried forward through Israel’s story, shaping the imagination of the people who later stood at Lazarus’s tomb. They knew the God who brings life out of death; they had sung it, prayed it, and passed it down for generations. So when Jesus called Lazarus out of the grave, they recognized the pattern. God’s presence wasn’t an idea to them — it formed their memory, their imagination, their identity.

So what do we make of these stories two thousand years later? I’ve been sitting with that question this week. The same breath that filled those dry bones and stirred Lazarus awake still moves in and among us. Paul says it plainly in Romans 8: the Spirit dwells in us. That brings to mind the word enthusiasm — entheos — “God within us.” God doesn’t leave us stuck in darkness, despair, or death. God fills us with light, hope, and life — and calls us to live as if we trust that promise. And maybe that’s where Nouwen helps us land. Lent isn’t only about recognizing the breath of God; it’s about making room for it. Creating space — somewhere not occupied, not preoccupied — so that the same Spirit who raised dry bones and awakened Lazarus can move freely in us. The season invites us to that quiet, courageous openness.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Note: The opening quote comes from Henri Nouwen’s 1981 book, The Way of the Heart: Connecting With God Through Prayer, Wisdom, and Silence. A prolific writer, Nouwen published 42 books in his lifetime.

This Week’s Readings

The readings are drawn from the Bible Gateway website and are the NRSVUE edition. I utilize Co-Pilot to assist with summarizing themes among the readings. All images are drawn from Wikimedia Commons, thereby copyright free.

Image of the Week

This Week’s ELCA Commemorations

Musical Meditation: Abide With Me

Abide With Me comes out of Henry Francis Lyte’s own season of weakness and uncertainty, and that’s part of why it still feels so human. He wrote it near the end of his life, when the days really were “fast falling,” and his simple plea for God to stay close has the same emotional honesty you hear in Psalm 130. The psalmist cries “out of the depths” and waits for God the way a watchman waits for morning; Lyte is doing something similar, just in the language of evening—naming the fears that surface when things grow dim and trusting that God’s presence won’t slip away. Put together, the hymn and the psalm sound like two voices in the same room: one calling from the depths, the other from the edge of night, both leaning on the same steady mercy. The version I’m including here comes from a performance by the Concordia Choir at Central Lutheran in Minneapolis from 2024. Enjoy!

Prayer Meditation: The Prayer of St. Patrick

The Prayer of St. Patrick (483) — often called St. Patrick’s Breastplate — is a bold, rhythmic call to “bind” oneself to God’s strength, presence, and protection. It paints a vivid picture of Christ surrounding the believer on every side, turning faith into something embodied and fiercely alive. Rooted in early Irish Christianity, the prayer endures because it speaks to our deep desire for courage, grounding, and the sense that God walks with us into every moment. I’m including it this week in honor of St. Patrick and for those with Irish heritage — in my case, twelve percent according to DNA testing. My Viking ancestors, apparently, made trips to Ireland!

Going Beyond (Faith At Work)

Welcome to Two Worlds!
(Year A: 4 Lent)

“The world desperately needs this Lutheran witness. In our current context, we see so much yelling — even as many people don’t feel heard or seen. There is so much anger, even as so many people’s hearts are breaking with grief. We are surrounded by so many voices, images and opinions, even as many people feel isolated and alone. God’s love has the power to break through all this noise, break down all this division, break apart all this cruelty. One person — you, the bearer of this love — can make all the difference. Put your body where love is needed.”

(Reverand Kristin Johnston Largen, President of Warburg Seminary, Iowa)

INTRODUCTION

John’s Gospel gives us a vivid conversion story this week: Jesus meets a man born blind, sees him with compassion, and restores his sight — sparking wonder, confusion, and notable outrage among the Pharisees. The moment exposes how easily we mistake certainty for vision, and how Christ keeps pulling us out of our shadows into the light of what is good and right and true. It’s the kind of moment Dr. Largen names so clearly: a world full of noise, anger, and isolation suddenly interrupted by a love that actually sees someone and moves toward them.

That same pattern shows up in the life of John Newton, whose own eyes began to open during a terrifying storm at sea in 1748. Newton had spent years participating in the slave trade, yet that night marked the beginning of a long, uneven conversion that eventually led him into abolitionist work, ministry, and the writing of a poem for a sermon—Faith’s Review and Expectation. We know it today as Amazing Grace, with its unforgettable confession: “Was blind, but now I see” (note John 9:25). Newton’s story, like the blind man’s, reminds us that God keeps showing up in the places we least expect, inviting us to see differently and live differently. And if Dr. Largen is right — and I believe she is — this is not just ancient history or a hymn’s backstory. It’s a call. In a world where so many feel unseen, unheard, or overwhelmed, the healing in John 9 and the awakening in Newton’s life point to the same truth: God’s love breaks through the noise by taking on flesh in ordinary people. One person, putting their body where love is needed, can make all the difference.

Soli Deo Gloria!

Note: The introductory quote from Kristin Johnston Largen was drawn from her Living Lutheran article (Spring 2026), page 53.

This Week’s Readings

The readings are drawn from the Bible Gateway website and are the NRSVUE edition. I utilize Co-Pilot to assist with summarizing themes among the readings.

Image of the Week

This Week’s ELCA Commemorations

Among this week’s commemorations, Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth come across as two women who simply refused to let the world stay as it was, and they carried a fierce, grounded faith that shaped everything they did. Tubman’s courage on the Underground Railroad and Truth’s preaching and public witness both grew out of a deep conviction that God intends freedom, dignity, and wholeness for every person. The ELCA remembers them as renewers of society because their lives didn’t just challenge injustice — they helped re‑imagine what a just society could look like, insisting that faith must take the side of the oppressed. Their stories still nudge us today to put our own bodies where love, courage, and truth are needed most.

Learn More About Their Remarkable Stories Here!

Musical Meditation and Prayer: Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace began as a New Year’s Day sermon illustration John Newton wrote in 1772, long after a violent storm at sea first shook him awake to God’s mercy during his years in the slave trade. Newton later became an Anglican priest in Olney, England, where he and poet William Cowper published the text—then titled Faith’s Review and Expectation—in their 1779 collection Olney Hymns, printed without any musical setting. The hymn remained relatively modest in England, but it flourished in the United States during the early 19th century, especially amid the revivalism of the Second Great Awakening, where its message of grace resonated across denominations. Its now‑familiar melody, New Britain, was added in 1835 by American composer William Walker, and that pairing transformed Amazing Grace into one of the most widely sung hymns in the world, cherished for its simple poetry, its honest confession, and its enduring promise of redemption.

The version offered here is a wonderful interpretation of the song performed by the Salt Lake Choral Artists. Enjoy!

Going Beyond (Faith At Work)