Staff Blogs

By Rev. Deb Stehlin

On Sunday, I got to preach at St. Philip’s in Fridley. Between worship services, I was also able to take part in an educational forum. People of all ages showed up, which made for rich conversation. At one point, I asked the teens, “How many of your friends are part of a faith community?”

“Jesus likens the work of God in God’s people to a tiny amount of yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until the whole loaf was leavened.”

One answered, “Not very many.”

“What does that feel like to you?” I asked.

“Lonely. Because I don’t have many friends I can talk about faith with,” she said.

Some might see this change in the status of the church in society as losing ground. I’m not worried.

CHRISTIAN CONTEMPLATIVE Richard Rohr, in The Divine Dance, The Trinity, and Your Transformation, says it well: “You can see why the most Jesus hoped for … is that his group became a ‘little flock.’ … Jesus calls it ‘leaven,’ or ‘yeast.’ He seems to have the patience and humility to trust a slow, leavening process. This is quite different from any notion of … ‘Christendom.’”

Jesus likens the work of God in God’s people to a tiny amount of yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until the whole loaf was leavened.

“On Sunday, the people of St. Philips blessed their disaster response team. For 13 years, this crew of skilled plumbers, electricians, and carpenters has entered into devastated places equipped with the love of Christ and well-appointed tool belts.”

When we claim this way of being, it’s always at odds with powers that oppress. When the way we love looks like concrete acts of service, when we live in hope and not in fear, it doesn’t take much, and the whole loaf is leavened!

On Sunday, the people of St. Philips blessed their disaster response team. For 13 years, this crew of skilled plumbers, electricians, and carpenters has entered into devastated places equipped with the love of Christ and well-appointed tool belts. This will be their 64^th trip. One of their leaders said that places devastated by this year’s hurricanes will be ready for them in the spring. They’re gearing up for that work now.

This is leaven, I tell you.

Did you know that each synod in the ELCA has a partner synod here in the U.S.? Our partner is the Texas-Louisiana Gulf Coast Synod, which includes Houston. Congregations in our synod are already planning to do the ministry of showing up, mucking out, clearing debris, and praying. First Lutheran in Columbia Heights is arranging for buses to make a trip in November.

Is your congregation planning a trip? We’d love to know about it so we can be better together.

By Rev. Deb Stehlin

My first 1:1 as a church planter was with Reggie. I heard his compelling story – and then I may have let it slip out that I was kind of terrified about starting a brand-new church.

Reggie (who is Jewish) pointed to my Bible on the table. “Open it up to 1 Corinthians, Chapter 2,” Here’s what it says:

When I came to you, brothers and sisters, I did not come proclaiming the mystery of God to you in lofty words or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I came to you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling. My speech and my proclamation were not with plausible words of wisdom, but with a demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom, but on the power of God.

I believe Reggie was most certainly sent by God.

“Paul follows the One who shines light on the system and shows us the way of love.”

Deb and Billy have puppy love.

The Apostle Paul understood me. He also felt fear and trembling! Here’s the thing: I understand today that the trepidation I felt is puppy fear and trembling. Puppy fear and trembling is lack of confidence or fear of failure.

Paul is talking about something entirely different. Here’s how I know: Jesus wasn’t killed for doing nice things to help people.

DAVID LOSE, IN Making Sense of the Cross writes, “Where ever Jesus went, every act of grace, every miracle, every act of healing, every time Jesus embraces someone the system has declared an outcast, he is calling the whole system into question. And they kill him for it. … That’s what happens when you call the powers that be into question.”

Paul comes in fear and trembling because he follows the One who shines light on the system and shows us the way of love. And I don’t mean puppy love. I mean costly love.

“Jesus wasn’t killed for doing nice things to help people.”

This way of being could bring you to Charlottesville, linking arms with other Jesus followers, singing “This Little Light of Mine” in the face of a line of white supremacists dressed in camouflage and carrying AK-47s. Fear and trembling.

It could bring you, with no green card (your only documents being your baptismal certificate) to live life not in the shadows, but out in the open, so that you can help start a new church in your town. Fear and trembling.

It could bring you to table with someone who’s never heard the gospel, and you get to tell them that they are beloved of God, and that their brokenness has been put to death in Christ. And you get to witness Holy Spirit ignite faith in our good, good God. Fear and trembling.

It could have you creating a strong Christian community, a school of love, where people decide to confront the system, speak the truth, and live in the way of Jesus. Fear and trembling.

This is all true. And at the very same time, the big, big message in scripture can be summed up in two words: Fear. Not. We know fear and trembling. But we also know the power of the Most High God, power shown in costly love.

Fear not, beloved. The power of Christ and him crucified is at work.

By Rev. John Hulden

Many years ago, year after year on the day after Labor Day, I would proclaim, “Today, I’m the happiest taxpayer ever!” Why? After another raucous and free-wheelin’ summer with four kids, Becky and I were thrilled to send our little munchkins off to public school. Thank you property taxes, income taxes, and any other kind of taxes that provide funding so other caring adults (teachers) could shepherd our kids for a chunk of the day from September to June. Thankful. Grateful.

Yet the first day of school still comes with heartache, … even if you’ve been waiting for some much-needed routine in your kids’ lives. If you pay attention, in the morning on the first day of school, you’ll see that love is in the air — bus stop love. Parents are out on the curb making sure kids get to the right bus, to the right school, at the right time.

You’ll know Bus Stop Love when you see it. It’s the Kindergartner and her Mom and Dad – the new outfit, the hugs, the kisses, the picture taking, the tears (parents mostly). 

Bus Stop Love isn’t in the smooching and hugging, however. Bus Stop Love is in the letting go.

If you pay attention, in the morning on the first day of school, you’ll see that love is in the air — bus stop love.

For that little darling going to Kindergarten, this is the biggest transition in her short life since leaving the womb – and parents know it too!

The next biggest transition might be … leaving home for military or volunteer service, a job, or college. Parents at this stage ask, “Can he live on his own?,” “Can she live with a roommate?,” “How will she get up in the morning without me yelling at her three times?,” “Will he make healthy choices — especially after midnight?”

(Please remind your kids who enlist that there are military chaplains where they will be going. And let Lutheran Campus Ministry know about a kid heading off to college. Fill out this easy form, so our Lutheran Campus Pastors can connect with all those little darlings: http://lumin-networkreferral.org/student-referrals/)

YEP, LOVE IS SOMETIMES in the letting go. It just might be the hardest kind of loving.

In Matthew 16, we read about Peter learning this hard lesson. Peter gets a Gold Star in one paragraph (“Blessed are you Simon, son of Jonah!), and in the very next paragraph Peter is given detention (“Get behind me, Satan!). Then Jesus teaches his disciples, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:24-25)

Peter gets a Gold Star in one paragraph, and in the very next paragraph
Peter is given detention.

“Letting Go Love” – Bus Stop Love – is that Christ-like love where losing it is required to find it.

Here’s to the first day of school.
Here’s to the brave children and their fearless teachers.
Here’s to the parents who love their kids so much, they let ‘em go.
And may all old folks like me still appreciate our tax dollars supporting education!

By Pastor Craig Pederson

C’mon, it’s summer, … the season of relaxation and renewal for those who work hard the rest of the year. Time to let go of some of that tension that is ever-present in daily life. So, what am I doing talking about tension as a gift?

I lost some tension in my life recently, but not in a good way. More specifically, I knocked knees with another guy playing basketball and suffered a complete tear of my quadriceps tendon. I learned quickly how that tendon provides some pretty important tension connecting the quad muscle to the kneecap; and when it’s disconnected, the lower leg is just kind of left hanging there to do its own thing. (I won’t go into any more detail than that.) [Editor’s Note: Thanks, Craig.]

Tension holds two or more things together. Sometimes that tension is by design (like properly functioning body parts!), but sometimes it is quite unexpected and even unwanted.

I RECENTLY ATTENDED the “Rethinking Church” conference at Luther Seminary with my colleagues Deb Stehlin and John Hulden. The theme was “Better Questions, Bolder Experiments.” Tension was all over the place as the presenters talked about honoring the traditional church we’ve known and loved, yet recognizing that the structures and messages of the traditional church are not reaching our current culture.

A compelling story highlighting this tension was shared by Tod Bolsinger, author of the recent book Canoeing the Mountains. He talked about his friend who had achieved ministry success, and Bolsinger was eager to reconnect to tell him about all the cutting-edge ministry he himself was doing in the church.

Yet, within the body of Christ we often avoid tension, believing that its presence
must be a sign of weakness or discord.

When they met, however, his friend surprised him by saying he felt strongly called to a ministry of caring for the elderly. Bolsinger was a bit deflated, because he thought he was reconnecting with a kindred spirit who was fueled by the boldness of “taking the hill” and charging into new challenges. Instead, it caused Bolsinger to reexamine his own approach to pastoral ministry. But then he said this: “In the church today, if you’re faced with taking the hill or staying back to take care of grandma, you need to take the hill … and you need to take grandma with you!”

As Lutherans, we are no strangers to tension – at least in a theological sense. Martin Luther dwelled regularly in the dialectic (i.e., tension), saying we are simul justus et peccator (“simultaneously saint and sinner”), and that as Christians we are both perfectly free and subject to no one yet perfectly bound and subject to all. Luther viewed tension as a gift – to see things as both/and rather than either/or.

Yet, within the body of Christ we often avoid tension, believing that its presence must be a sign of weakness or discord. I would suggest that a lack of tension more often leads to an illusory peace and even atrophy within the body. Now more than ever, just the opposite is needed: healthy tension to strengthen Christ’s body for change and growth in order to meet the challenges of a rapidly changing world.

As you ponder and plan for the coming program year, where might the gift of tension serve your congregation well? Are there ministries where you might honor the past, but also move boldly forward to respond to the current needs and opportunities facing God’s people?

I pray for your rest and renewal this summer – and for the gift of life-giving tension in the year ahead!

By Rev. Deb Stehlin

A weird thing happened to me this month. I had time to think.

For years, I’ve read books on leadership that suggest carving out “thinking time” each week. They say Monday mornings are best. And, they promise that setting aside time to think will make a big difference in, well, making a big difference. But, in my zeal to make phone calls, meet with people, and generally “get stuff done,” I haven’t intentionally incorporated that discipline into my work.

In my zeal to make phone calls, meet with people, and generally “get stuff done,” I haven’t intentionally incorporated the discipline of “thinking time” into my work.

But this month, I made time to ponder, … to dream, … to pray, … to imagine something big and new. And I suspect that the church is well served when I do that.

I heard some smart, faithful speakers at the “Re-thinking Church” event at Luther Seminary this week. The biggest take-away for me wasn’t the latest shiny idea for saving the church. What struck me is that the speakers who have the most clarity are the ones who are doing the most compelling gospel work with their congregation. Each one is gripped by a clear conviction that won’t let them go. I have a hunch that this conviction came about because they made time to listen, be curious, think, and pray. I suspect that the voice of the Holy One was able to enter into that sacred thinking space and mess with their usual ways of being church.

LAST WEEK, I HELD a focus group to test out an idea I have for mission in our synod. The first question I asked was, “What’s the most valuable thing synod staff can do in this time of great change in the church?” The focus group told me, “Help us to make connections and build relationships. And, help us to take risks.”

Gladly will we do that!

The voice of the Holy One was able to enter into that sacred thinking space and mess with their usual ways of being church.

Here’s one small way: If you’re a rostered minister in our synod, I hope you can come to the Bishop’s Theological Conference this fall. We’re hoping that our time together will give you time to think, pray, and get clear about one thing – your next bold step.

What might happen if 100 leaders leave Cragun’s Resort gripped by a conviction and clear about the next a bold step? What if we support one another in being true to our God-given purpose?

I think that would be good.

By Emilie Bouvier

Yesterday evening in the waning heat of the day, I pulled through bundles of now-finally-clean-laundry to set aside assembled outfits. I quickly dug out my international outlet converter I haven’t used in five years, a couple books for the plane, my hiking boots from the back of the closet, and then stopped. I suddenly noticed how little was in my piles. I had only packed the basics.

Yet my deeper curiosity is about the stirring unrest in Luther’s day.

I’ll confess, I haven’t been preparing well for this Reformation 500 trip to Germany next week. I know the deep significance of this opportunity to be present in such historic, sacred places at such a pivotal moment in time – but it didn’t feel real until now.

I’m packing light because I don’t know what to expect. (What was the weather going to be like?) Rather than meticulously preparing (as I know I have a propensity to do), I’m stepping lightly into the holy moments that I know I can’t fully anticipate.

ADMITTEDLY, MY THOUGHTS have been scattered and filled with big wonderings this week. I don’t know if it’s the national debate on healthcare under a Trump administration, the upcoming rally in Nebraska reminding me that the Keystone fight is not over, or the painful layers of the Justine Damond shooting. Likely it’s a combination of all those things that feel so heavy, causing me to reflect a great deal this week on this current moment we’re living in – a time characterized by fractures and emerging social movements.

And now I’m stepping away from this week to get on a plane to Germany. My biggest wondering setting foot on this pilgrimage through history and tradition concerns the questions we face as a church today: ever-reformed, ever-reforming. Where do we stand in movements of change, in moments of rupture around the powers that take life instead of give it?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely curious to learn more of the stories surrounding Luther’s life, see his childhood home, appreciate the music and art that marked the start of Lutheranism. Yet my deeper curiosity is about the stirring unrest in Luther’s day. I want to know more about how he navigated the pain of dissonance and failure in the harmful systems that needed to change but didn’t come apart without loss.

I want to place myself more inside an understanding of the social fabric of Luther’s day. I want to better see the structural harm embedded in the institutions of that age and how the faithful sought to find a new way.

I want to know more about how Luther navigated the pain of dissonance and failure in the harmful systems that needed to change but didn’t come apart without loss.

So I’ll toss in a notebook on top of the packing pile, and hop on the plane in t-minus 48 hours. I know many church folks are making this trek this year, and many have already. I’ve loved perusing the blog posts from the young clergy in our synod and learning from their experiences earlier this summer. (See https://reformingforward.wordpress.com/).

The reflections we share and questions we raise together – both in our time at home and time away – are so important. May these voyages we take, whether afar or within our own communities, Reformation-year related or otherwise, stir new wonderings, inform us, and reconnect us.

By Pr. John Hulden

There is a 35-year-old Minneapolis Area Synod tradition of Summer Youth Programs. More than a dozen congregations see summertime as a golden opportunity to reach out to children in the city. What a great ministry — touching hundreds of young lives. It’s also extra programming – everyday programming – that takes planning, volunteer recruitment, and, of course, coaxing and coaching high schoolers to be mentors and leaders.

How about you? What do you have added to your summer calendar? Vacation Bible School. Youth trips. Outdoor worship. Bible camp. Neighborhood festival/fair/parade. Finding coverage for vacation. Knowing an important meeting will have to wait because summer calendars don’t jive for you and your leaders.

Ah, Summer. A change of pace. Perhaps a vacation week or two.

BUT NOW WE ARE half way through summer. Yikes! It’s the middle of July!

Isn’t summer our annual prime time to catch up on this or that at church, extra reading, or writing?

Summertime is just a-whole-different-kind-of busy.

I still fool myself every darn spring (even after 30+ years of doing this pastor/church stuff): “Summer is coming! Summer will be slower, more laid back, so I’ll have more time.”

Right.

Granted, summertime in this northern climate is radically different from the school year and those blustery winter months. Nevertheless, every year I fail to realize that even though the workload of summer is different, summertime is just a-whole-different-kind-of busy.

So, … how are you doing this summer, really?

Here’s hoping you carve out some time: to read; to sleep; to write; to enjoy friends, family, or a little more of God’s amazing creation.

I’ll tell you what, though. One thing does not change for me in the summer: I have to finish this blog so I can get to my regularly scheduled peer group gathering! Yes!

By Bob Hulteen

When I was little, my (much) older brother blew up my “little army men” with firecrackers. Mercilessly, he would throw some of the plastic soldiers into an empty can of Folgers with an entire pack of Black Cats. Oh, the carnage.

I also watched older boys/men returning from Vietnam, with injuries that would determine the rest of their lives. I saw physical pain, but also emotional and spiritual devastation for these veterans.

I didn’t like war. And I didn’t like firecrackers (which, to me, seemed like the “gateway drug” for war preparation). So, I wasn’t a big fan of the Fourth of July.

In recent years, my experience has been a bit redeemed by the singing of a couple of patriotic anthems at my church. Most years we sing one or the other of two songs near the end of the service. As part of the holiday today, I offer the lyrics (and YouTube videos) of each.

“This is My Song”

–Lyrics by Lloyd Stone (1934); music by Jean Sibelius (1899)

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
a song of peace for lands afar and mine;
this is my home, the country where my heart is;
here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine:
but other hearts in other lands are beating
with hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
and sunlight beams on cloverleaf and pine;
but other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
and skies are everywhere as blue as mine:
O hear my song, thou God of all the nations,
a song of peace for their land and for mine.

Listen to Cantus perform “This is My Song.”

“Lift Every Voice and Sing”

–Lyrics by James Weldon Johnson (1899); music by John Rosamund Johnson (1905)

Lift every voice and sing
Till earth and heaven ring
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list’ning skies, let it resound loud as the rolling sea
Sing a song full of faith that the dark past has taught us
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun
Let us march on till victory is won

Stony the road we trod
Bitter the chast’ning rod
Felt in the day that hope unborn had died
Yet with a steady beat
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place on witch our fathers sighed

We have come over a way that with tears has been watered
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered
Out from the gloomy past, till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our star is cast

Listen to Committed perform a rendition of “Lift Every Voice and Sing.”

With “harmonies of liberty” and “hopes and dreams

By Emilie Bouvier

“Think of a time in which you powerfully experienced public space.” This is what I asked a room of faith leaders this week at the Peer Group Lunch and Learn I led this week. We went around and told stories (in two sentences or less!) about everything from rallies to hospital waiting rooms. What came to my mind to share from my own experience was the smell of crackling cedar logs and crisp clear feel of prairie air in late October. I thought of the tarped shelter over a microphone next to the sacred fire that functioned as the central public space at the Octeti Sackowin camp of Standing Rock.

As people arrived in camp they were invited to the mic to share why they came and their connection the water and native rights. As the sunset lit up the tall grasses with tones of orange and red, songs would rise from the scratchy amplification of the feeble little sound system and reverberate through camp. Drums and singing, stories and prayers. I was honored to stand in that space and bear witness to the presence and narratives that bound the people together.

I heard many languages, not only from global allies but from those spoken by native folks here. I learned recently that the people of the native nations in the Americas pre-colonization spoke 350 different languages. Potawatomi, Bodewadmimwin, Lakota, Dakota, Hopi, Seminole, and many more.

LATELY EVERYTHING SEEMS to remind me of Pentecost and this story is no exception. I immediately think of that cacophony of languages and stirring of the spirit that compelled these disciples out of an upper room into the public space of the street – citing prophets, proclaiming a new way centered on hope and healing, washing new believers in holy water, and sharing all things in common.

Acts 2 is such a compelling text, one that I’ve been thinking about for weeks as we make the journey from the empty tomb to the tongues of fire. I’m struck by the sudden thrust into public ministry, as these disciples literally go from sitting around a table in a house to speaking in many languages on the street corner, abruptly, with no interlude.

The Spirit here is not abstract, we’re given these powerful, physical details: and suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. (Acts 2:2-3). Rushing wind, fire, power. Later in this story water and breaking bread make an appearance. There’s a very visceral and sacramental nature to this story in all its earthiness and elemental nature.

“This fossil fuel is not the oil of anointing; this oil never makes an appearance in our scriptures.”

I think again of the power these elements have and the tangible impacts they bear when I recall what I witnessed at Standing Rock. Water has the power to nourish, wash, and heal – to give life and hold meaning in sacred ceremony.

And water is threatened by pipelines carrying crude oil to fuel an instable system for powering society. This fossil fuel is not the oil of anointing; this oil never makes an appearance in our scriptures.

Yet the power of wind fills the whole house where they were sitting, and can fill too our houses with the literal electric power we need for our day. Wind power cost has dropped 58 percent in the past five years and is the cheapest form of energy (besides energy efficiency). Wind is currently the largest renewable energy source for Minnesota, accounting for nearly 18 percent of Minnesota’s electricity in 2016, ranking sixth in the nation for wind energy as a share of total electricity generation.

This transformation is hopeful, but with 78 percentof our electricity coming from dirty energy, including 44 percent coming from coal, we know we still have a long way to go and need to keep pressing for a fast and equitable transition of our energy economy.

Wind power cost has dropped 58 percent in the past five years
and is the cheapest form of energy (besides energy efficiency).

In this time of celebrating the call of God’s people to public ministry and the commitment of this new community to caring for the common good, asking questions about our energy use and advocating for sustainable sources in the public square seems like a good response – to the prodding spirit and the call of my neighbors I heard echoing around the sacred fire.

One possible response is signing on to urge an increase the Renewable Energy Standard. It’s clear as legislators recently wrapped up the 2017 legislative session, we’re at best going to choose not to take steps backward on environmental policies. Now is the time to be building for the steps forward we can take in the months to come and look to ways we can continue to make room for the winds of the Spirit – in more ways than one.

Postscript: The Minneapolis Area Synod’s EcoFaith Network prepared Pentecost Worship Resources. If you want to add your name to the Renewable Energy Standard sign on letter, please contact Emilie Bouvier at e.bouvier@mpls-synod.org.

By Rev. Deb Stehlin

If you stop by the synod office this week, you’ll see stacks of boxes, file cabinets, and books shelves all over the place. We’re re-configuring our offices to make room for Jaddie Edwards, our new racial justice organizer. She and Emilie Bouvier, our eco-faith organizer, will take up residence right across the hall from me.

Whenever you make a move, it’s a great time to decide what’s essential. Do I really need this file? Will I ever read this book?

Last week, I got to sit at a table with church-planting executives from the mainline denominations in the U.S. and Canada. Each one came to share their latest research. I filled a legal pad with essential learnings – which I will keep on file!

One leader shared ground-breaking work by two Harvard Divinity School students. They did a deep dive to discover how millennials gather (www.howwegather.org). It’s required reading, I think. They studied 3,000 young adults and got a glimpse into the gifts this generation offers. We can learn a lot by noticing how they form community, seek personal and social transformation, use their creativity, and find purpose.

One person’s comment hit me like a thunderbolt: “If we’re not working for racial justice or addressing climate change – to millennials, it’s not the church.”

WOW! IT JUST SO happens that our synod is staffing to support congregations so they can enter into this work. And because these issues are so critical, foundations, individuals, government agencies, and ELCA Churchwide – as well as some individual congregations – were willing to provide support for the organizing positions through grants.

The “How We Gather” millennials study discovered something else essential: Even when young adults gather at Soul Cycle or The Dinner Party, even as they work for social and personal transformation, they are seeking what they call “something more.” Whether it’s named the Source of Being, The Transcendent, or God, young America thirsts for something bigger.

We can learn a lot by noticing how young people form community, seek personal and social transformation, use their creativity, and find purpose.

This isn’t anything new. The Apostle Paul encountered this reality in the first century! While he was hanging out with folks among the statues of gods at the Areopagus, he gave words to this yearning for something bigger, saying, “In